I can’t stop thinking… or feeling that there is something bigger that I am missing. Something BIGGER than the biggest big I could conceptualize. Everyday the search begins again. Little pieces to the bigger puzzle, leaving me empowered and confused. Addicted to the search. I have gained so many new tools in my stability that I have started to feel that rumble and shake inside telling me to move on and use this newly acquired knowledge.
I received some cash today for art. I put it in a thin necked Vodka bottle. It is harder to get it out that way. I want 500 to travel with. What is 500 bucks? Nothing. Bills in a bottle. I am almost a tenth of the way there. Not bad. Should be easy enough. I make it harder with its easy accessibility. I have to set up my own boundaries. That too should be easy enough as I seem to set some sort of boundary for myself on a daily basis. Not even the good kind. No doubt as I tackle the task of breaking the boundaries I will be learning new skills of survival.
I live very much in a now and present future oriented mindset. I aquire what I need in the moment as a way of confirming my energy in work… I think I am in the surplus. This excites me, I just yet have not seen the total fruits of my labor. This should be exciting fruition.
I have not yet traveled as much as I would have liked, to the distances I have hoped to see. This will be a future manifestation when I finally have something tangible to offer. But what is this; all these journals and pictures? Is that not tangible? Sure but it is the old journey and I am in the drivers seat for something new. I am a pioneer who has yet to pick their path for the destination.
I ask inspiration to guide me into uncharted water. I want to ride the current to a place few find because they fight the flow. Getting caught up in a cove somewhere so close to paradise. Always wondering the great “what if?” (Something I refuse to suffocate from.)
This acquisition of comfort is such a gift. I have all I need and more in this moment, but I need more movement to balance this fixture of roots. I am ready to dive deep and move forward in flow.
I ask that I am offered support, and that I be willing to accept it when it is fulfilling for everyone involved. This is truly and exciting journey.
Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said,
“This could be a good time!”
“There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid.
They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.
“Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate.
At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, Least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.
The time for the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word struggle from you attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”
— attributed to an unnamed Hopi elder
Hopi Nation
Oraibi, Arizona
(Here is an audio recording I made of my Ode to Water.)
Have you heard of my beautiful friend Water?
The innovator of the phrase “Let it Flow.”
You may have seen her, she gets around quite a bit
Oh that Sweet Water
She is quite the mover and shaker
She has friends all over , and all sorts adore her.
She came to be when her two gay Hydrogen Fathers approached their good friend Oxygen with the idea of creation
new life , beginning.
The conversation had been stirring that life had become a little to stagnant and sticky
The Hydrogens and Oxygen felt a need to let in a little flow
And despite their differences, felt a bit like innovators with their idea
It took a while to figure out a formula that worked…
But then those Hydrogen Fathers sandwiched Oxygen between themselves
And Water was born
Out of polarity came this Neutral Solvant
In a sense it was structured improvisation
All the elements working in their own way
Nature tending toward perfection
Despite how odd the occurrence, or how illogical it may seem
Within this improvisation was a creation of malleability
Water was a mischievous youth and a wonderful teacher
She has always been a fantastic imitator, with a photographic memory
She ran wild through the woods blessing all she could touch
Taking in everything it had to offer
Adding it to herself
And then moving on in her unique way
There was no boundary she could not reach beyond
Even when She was out of sight, she was still around
She traveled where ever her heart wanted to go
Growing large and vast
Connecting herself to everything she came into contact with
Leaving pieces of herself behind as to grow her ideas of prospective change
Magical adaptation
Ultimate mobility and convergence
Water was always ahead of her time
The other elements were a bit jealous of her ability to transmutate herself
Not realizing she was changing them, as she changed herself
In any situation or environment she touched
They marveled at her cooperative relationship to Temperature
And wondered at her ability to patiently weather all stages of her cycles
Even when she was at times Cold as Ice, she was still quite graceful
It was a common observation that she could be the most gentle of the elements
And also one of the most threatening.
When I was a child, my grandfather told me, “If you respect water, She will respect you; If you honor Her, she will teach you to Honor yourself.”
And when I would swim within that skin of Water, I would gently pull my arms down on her
Breaking the surface tension and submersing my self inside her
Thinking always, that she would hold me and move me along
As I grew, I became closer to Water, she enjoyed the respect and came to visit often
She would follow me on all my travels and she never complained about the weather
Except to say she thought the Desert had an unspoken grudge
Which was fine, because I rarely traveled anywhere but through the Desert to some other lush region
We talked long about the Desert, and its sense of helplessness that it disguises through resilience.
Water joked that anywhere she wasn’t allowed to hang out for too long, was no place for anyone to be
Some had accused Water of being a bit of a loiter at inconvenient times
Water knows more about this Earth and everyone on it than you could even imagine.
I suppose if she was anyone else she would be a big gossip, but actually she is a fantastic secret keeper
Water remembered every conversation, every thought, every prayer
She always knew my worries and needs
And when recognized would become the most brilliant amplifier
She absorbed every change, flowed through every integration
When others didn’t want to be like anyone else
Water was always totally herself, meaning to say
Water wanted to be EVERYONE and EVERYTHING always, and forever
Which is exactly what she is
Everything and nothing
She loves when you gaze within her shimmering eyes to see your own reflection
Because you are her, and she is you
She was born knowing that
It is her mission to share that knowledge, hence all of her worldly travels
From the tiniest blood vessel to the widest sea
She’s been there, all up in it
Sometimes she shares the beauty she has experienced through her snowflakes,
little perfect geometric shapes
Water captures prayers and praises and changes them into the most beautiful little expressions
And if you stare at the sky and attempt to catch them on your tongue
Did you know you are taking inside of yourself; someone elses prayer or affirmation as it falls back to earth.
You are sharing a piece of someone else, which has inherently been recorded and crystallized by Water?
When you bathe in water you are sitting in a collection of thoughts and experiences and eliminations.
And Water is in bliss when you finally see it for yourself
Water tells us that just as she must come, she must go
And as she gathers along her way, she must release
She reminds us that as we take time to eliminate her from our bodies, through exertion and elimination
She says it’s good to consciously get rid of old thoughts that are no longer serving us
And that it is also a process in the cycle to appreciate and honor
At times it may seem Water is stressed out by life
Angered by the sight of pain and dis-ease
And she will come wailing in from the sky hitting eyes of passers by as they run for shelter
In her seeming helter skelter
And people curse her for reigning down
Thinking, something as gentle as water should never create waves
But some days she can’t help herself. She can be a catalytic force to be reckoned with.
It would be ridiculous to think one with such a brilliant memory would remember to be gentle all the time
Think of all the pain and destruction she has seen not at her own hand
Like tears in your eyes sometimes things need to be washed away
To clean house and start over
She has shared so much of herself with us
And we have unconsciously given back so much crap
That at times it seems like she is attacking
But She, just as we, at times need to purge
What most fail to see is the lesson of our own reflection
Our willingness toward emotional pollution
Our blames and lack of solutions
Our anger at our environment and ourselves
Our desire for help
But our unwillingness to change
What if change just means perspective
Water has been teaching us the whole time that our ability to handle all of this is within our control
But we let go of our cooperation some time ago
Slowly there are those hoping to win it back
They see the potential of fluidity in humanity
They understand the plan at the hand of Water
They want her to guide us
Because she cut her own path
And she constantly goes back to Source
She learns and takes with her wherever she goes
She flows freely, changing environmentally, adding to biology
Always giving back
Constant cycles
Her consciousness is ALL of US
We can not exist with out what she has to offer
Her filing cabinet is the planet,
It is the record keeper and proof that she was here and somehow, someway made a difference
Now is our chance to share our appreciation for Water
If everyday we choose to Bless her, she will be more willing to share her secrets with us
The first secret is this, you are never far from Truth and change than when this you do
Say, “Water, Great recorder keeper, Great Transmutator, Blessed Giver of Life
I honor You, I thank you! I love you, for you are the cutter of the path, the source of moisture to the Earth, Vapor of the Rainbows, A silent White morning Evident in our Sky
You flow around me, through me, and back to the Earth
Constantly changing , and yet always staying in some form
Water, I bless you, I honor you
Thank you Great Teacher
I walk in the path of respect for You”
Thank her daily, and her secrets will seep inside of you
One must ask first for her knowledge
It is part of sacred development to learn to ask for it
And then to be willing to receive what She has to offer
She teaches her lessons many ways, and one must not judge it with any sense of duality
Water is not good or bad
She is what she is.
The reflection of the observer
Blessed to have her as a Great Teacher
Always blessed to be her Student
But this too is perspective,
Water has been known to manipulate change in the perspectives of others
The difference is in the conscious realization
Which is when she says to you “let it flow. Just let it go and ride with it.
Take a deep breathe, keep your eyes open and drop off the edge
Get really, really wet
Don’t fight the current, watch out for obstruction
In my dream I was told that nothing was gonna happen, nothing was going to change, that the biggest deception of all, believing the world will rearrange.
And in my dream I thought to myself, well if nothing changes, than I refuse to go on, because I have a purpose inside that tells me I have to keep keepin’ on.
The East and the West are melding and lines have only been drawn in our minds. This Red Electric Skywalker will teach you to walk the thin line, then how to absolve what you find.
In physicality we have demonstrated demonology, we have played the part of duality, it has been inside of you and me for as long as we remember.
But when you slumber there are chances to rise above it. To see what it has done to us. You’ve chosen your own symbology, decided what it means to be: Human.
But the Spirit in you, the one you haven’t given much credit to, has been on the sidelines this entire time guiding you through the mucky muck, when you thought it was just random luck.
Face it, we have been coerced to see the worst in ourselves and one another. We understand now the possibility that lies within negativity.
It’s become so blatant to see all around us. We have fussed, and fought; been internally wrought with confusion. We have ignored our own solutions. The little hiding gem beneath the soiled dirt, beyond the pain and hurt, is love.
Just love unconditional.
When you dig down to find it, you will be guided by the light it gives. And when you finally hold it in your hands, you understand the duality of man, and how to transcend it. We weren’t left here with out devices to find love when the time was right. So now, it is time for the light to absolve us. To lighten the load below us. To walk the clouds of confidence that lift us in love.
For the things you do not love in yourself, there is solution. Change yourself in internal evolution, let your cells speak of revolution, for they are fighting back. When the vibrations of the lower start to choke you, let Universal Unconditional Love, stroke you back to health.
You are a potential wealth of love. No one can give it to you, find it for you, or tell you exactly where to go… but if you listen without judgment, that heaven sent map will guide you on your individual way, to the place of your hearts calling.
So to those who dismiss the greatest mission we have ever had, well they just haven’t found theirs yet.
Let go of the things you’ve been told forever, walk through the stormy weather with a smile. All the while knowing, that this motion is the needed emotion to making the world a little bit better.
Me and Shane in SF when he told me his tragic story
I have been thinking about a friend I once had, who sadly killed himself last year. His birth name was Shane Neary. Most of his life he was known as Steven Klingsporn. I met Shane at the Dream Lodge in Mount Shasta. He was one of the motley crew to pass through it’s doors.
Shane and a couple of our friends had some pretty bizarre adventures when he was still around. He was not your average bloke.
In the late nineties and early 2000 he worked as a computer programmer, which meant he had a lot of time to be on the computer, by the time I met him, he was an out of work dot com-er. * Apparently he was a young genius in tech and one of the youngest people to be hired by Apple back in the day.*
He was *said to have been* suffering from bouts of depression and extreme paranoia boarding schizophrenia. He was hearing voices and following a deep rabbit hole of conspiracies against the people of the world inflicted by Illuminati.
He felt ties to the Sylvan Learning Center. (If I recall correctly it was the name of the Sylvan Learning Centers.) This was all attached to involvement in abducting, abusing, and using children for mind control.
In the last years that I knew Shane, he felt he needed to right the wrongs of those people; and he had brought to him, people who felt connected to his cause. Last year when I got news of Shane’s death, I became curious. To this day, there is no obituary that I can find stating what really happened. I have not been able to track down his adopted parents.
His Tribe.net page still exists and the writing from his last night on earth seem to reflect his inability to overcome the program that was causing him to be too unstable to survive.
I don’t know exactly what Shane was going through. I know he felt helpless in a world needing help. A pure soul trying to undo all the damage already done. It drove him crazy.
Maybe he was abducted as a child, brain washed and implanted. Maybe the voices he heard really were the government enacting their own form of population control. I don’t know for sure. But I know Shane was good, and true, and it’s sad to me that his digging into the abuse of children literally took him to such a rock bottom, there was no escape.
If a soul can still exist as energy moving through these ether, than I ask Shane to show us the truth, to speak into our ears so that we may fight the unseen force with the power given to us through the bounty of Creation.
We need to use our own wise consciousness that speaks from the heart in order to create a new solution. We have already allowed such weakness into our mind, body and souls. All of it further facilitated by our willingness to sign ourselves over to programs, drugs and organizations with a bigger darker plan. Are we really thinking for ourselves?
Are you really as depressed as you think you are, or is it just the programming around you that allows you that life view? We need to clean ourselves from the inside out, top to bottom.
Oh and by the way, Prozac is really really bad for you.
**Update 7/25/18- With all of the exposure toward Ritual Abuse, Pedophilia and children being sold into sex slavery, I am more inclined than ever to believe everything Shane told me. His adopted brother is the person who told me Shane was diagnosed as schizophrenic. Shane was the first person I had ever talked to who brought up these topics and I have been following the thread since I met him in 2006. My heart goes out to all the victims and I can’t wait for all of this to blow open. I don’t know if there will ever be justice, but it’s time to lift the veil.
In a world of wanters wanting to be wanted, spring has sprung. Pheromones float in the air, beyond sight, ready to infect the masses. Winters nesting melts away into the stir craze of spring. For this particular individual, it seems as though the pot o’ love is just about ready to boil over into a frothy and unpredictable spectacle.
I call this segment of life: Six Beau’s, a Dame, an Old Dude and Me.
Finally for the first time I can remember, I am being called out and it is appreciated. It appears as if I have created my own motley crew, an entourage if you will.
None of these followers hang out together. I am pretty sure none of them know one another. I am the Princess of the Ports. Somehow, someway, the hormonal aching of spring has drawn some unlikely suspects in perusal of the Princess of the P.
Firstly, we have the Israeli. We met haphazardly last spring. After required service to his country, this ex-military turned bohemian was spending the last few weeks of the ski season hitting up Eldora. Minding my own business as usual, I was embarking on a frosty brew and a heady writing session at the pub. Tokman, as I will refer to him, brought about a certain nostalgia in my mind.
Who did he remind me of???
Ohhhh, right, that guy Tyson I had a crush on in 7th grade. The guy who treated me like shit, and wrote “dyke” (though spelled “dike”) in my 8th grade year book. Yeah, Tyson, who dated my (at the time) best friend Lisa.
Tyson, whom I ran into at the age of 24, working at a gas station in Cheyenne. Good ole, badass, Tyson, who found my face familiar but my name escaped him. Tyson, who had the worst case of “monk hair” anyone has seen in this era of plugs,sprays and implants. All this, probably due to all the harassment he gave people like me back in the day. Yeah, Karma can be pretty heinous.
So, dear Tokman, resembles Tyson, in his youth and once hairier prime. Tokman, however, lacks much of the abrasiveness I associate to Tyson. Two weeks after our initial meeting this traveler was bound for foreign seas. Apparently I made an impression… a year later he is back in Colorado’s western slope and anxious to hang out… My biggest mental deterrent is knowing he hooked up with a red light district Miss, in Amsterdam.
Next we have the pleasantly reclusive artist, we will call Bud. After a momentary interaction, I have realized that artists that reclusive must be sought out if they are to be interacted with. I ride my own rainbow, and honestly going too far out of my way to hang out with someone who isn’t “that into beer,” leaves a dry taste in my mouth. As luck would have it, the crazy spring vibe must be tickling him too, because he just started calling again.
Respectively in line, is a handsome Punk Rocker. Dark, robust, pleasant to the palate, and more tattoo’s than me. The universe would have this hard-kore hottie living in the rough’s of Denver. It seems we can never connect via phone, and I am dying to see his band perform because from what I hear, there is stage diving and EVERYTHING. The truth is, I have never been with a musician… my ego wants someone to write me awesome songs, to call me muse and a find a fountain of inspiration in knowing me… This is something I may need to wait for. In no way am I even assuming that this specific rocker thinks I am song worthy… it just gets my imagination roaming.
Now… as if three fine young lads wasn’t enough, we have number four. Tall, ironically Jesus like in appearance, and very, very Southern. I can’t help but slip to a silly drawl when I imitate the things he says. This fine example of chivalry found himself in my way during a Lotus show. I only had a severe warning of flailing elbows for him, so he moved. Past the first set, we found ourselves sharing a smoke… and well, let’s just say he is anxious to show me all the South has to offer.
And finally, and most weirdly of all… Missed Connections on Craigslist has recently allowed me realize someone from my long lost past of life-guarding and high school dances, still flirts with the thoughts of me that run through his head. I am almost certain I know who he is, and I wonder if all this nostalgia is just a quarter life crisis. A crumbling moment most likely found in inebriation when one realizes all of the friends from their wily youth are either married or with child. Realization that the singledom that was so bravely fought for in our early twenties is now slipping away into a need and desire for a partner in crime- not just any partner though… No, a partner you want to sleep with.
Long lost are the days of misunderstood youth, and awkward moments of teenage alienation. I have found my worth, and now those around me share their appreciation…
All the while, I am starting to wonder where the hell my sex drive went, because despite my ever broadening options and my wanting to be wanted, I know I don’t need to be needed, it just feels nice to be held once in a while…. So until someone get’s those old fires burning I guess I’ll let my imagination run wild, there really is nothing safer than masturbation.
I have no regrets but upon looking back there are things I would do different. I would appreciate myself more in order to see the appreciation others had for me. I would push myself harder to be social and kind, because lord knows, at times I haven’t been kind enough.
I would have communicated more often, more clearly, saying what I mean and meaning what I say, verses beating around the bush, creating drama when there was no need.
I would have loved with more passion when the situation called for action, I would have respected myself with boundaries and strength.
If I knew then, what I know now I would have the confidence to keep on track with my needs instead of leaving my own path for the sake of another.
Learning to let go would have served me well, sadly it is a slow process of realizing what is worth detaching from, and what is necessary for reasons of the heart and soul.
I would have known despair without the experience just with the sense of knowing… but despair has allowed me a growth within.
All of it necessary, but the perfectionist in me, wishes there could have been another way to learn these lessons…Now its the struggle of assimilation and movement forward. I am ready to excel, I just pray I recognize opportunity when she shows her face.
Hard work, is an investment. More than the price of supplies; time is priceless. The creative reservior in the mind is an ever evolving shuffle. Everything becomes a steam of consciousness flowing from one project to the next. Process at times is unexplainable. One only hopes that is makes sense to nameless strangers looking to grow their personal collection in honor of artistic expression. That is, if you sell your original art.
I have given so much art away. Many times to those probably undeserving for lack of appreciation. I have no record or picture left of that creation, it exists only in my memories and now lives a life of its own. But like an over zealously whorish mother, perhaps I have even forgotten some of the faces of creation I have helped design. And hopefully this does not mean they have found themselves in waiting at the Salvation Army… though some cool things come from there, and admittedly I own many things from them. Only once a piece of original art. A 7 in by 9 in framed stipple of two eyes done in black pen. It looks like it took a while, I appreciate stipple because I once did a 2 ft by 4 ft panel of an Angel coming out of a pit of flames in the same style. It came in a nice silver industrial metal frame with glass, a good buy for $2.99. But to think of my own art in the thrift store, when each one was given out of so much love and personal conviction. I guess a buyer of fine art would never take it to the thrift store, would they?
Not true! There are stories of clueless owners of art all over the place. Not to toot my own horn, but I believe one day people will be happy and astounded to own something I did. Not because I have elevates hopes of grandeur, but because I love what I do, and life itself. I travel, and socially I get around. It is how I try to live and what I feel I have been put here to share. I have been blessed in my young age to have the ability to be told by many people that I have positively influenced their lives. I can not say if that would be a consensus of those who knew me earlier in life or not. But I believe that many of us get multiple chances in this life to share the joy of living with those around us. And many people are too caught up in the petty parts of living to ever fully engage in that way.
In the beginning for me I experienced this overwhelming “push me, pull you” effect. To be social vs. apart from society in my expansion of art. To work alone or in a crowd. I am somewhat of a loner as it is. I realize I enjoy good beer, good music, happy people, tasty food and stimulation. Not all the time, but when I am around it, even if I am not talking to anyone, I am engaged in this artistic expression. Not every piece is that way. I ask, “Is this piece calling for audience participation, or is this an object of unconscious; manifesting through a tool called ‘alienation’?” Sometimes I create art to participate (sometimes painting most times writing), and sometimes, I do it to avoid people. Every piece has it’s own fuel and organic process.
This at times, I realize is a direct and clear channel of the collective.
Recently I have looked at art from artist near my age and with similar beliefs, our colors reflect one another, our minds are meeting somewhere, but I don’t know these people. I specifically ignored looking at other artists work because I didn’t want to be influenced or to copy. I wanted to just experiment and see what I came up with. I didn’t even know who Jackson Polluck was until I was twenty-five.
As a collective when we further understand art, and artists who create; we become more clear about ourselves, and the facets of imagination meeting facets of reality. Either way it usually persuades you to let go a little or to take more action in your life. There is a style for everyone, whether it is the darker shadow elements or the lighter etheric reality encompassed through visionary art. Each finds and sustains its medium in the endless process of creative and inner growth.
So many people own commercial art. And the renaissance for the artist is in its beginnings. Worn out are the cheesy posters and the over industrialized “generic print.” Creative types like muralists and tattoo gurus are showing us how art can be a part of day to day life. Accentuating the home through art is the next step. Art should not have to have high price tag on it to be considered good. It is idealistic and nice to think that one can sell a couple of paintings a year and get by well enough, but what about art as a living, pumping it out because people need what you do and the medium you work in doesn’t take days to dry? Graffiti artists do it, and some of them eventually get paid for other artistic endeavors. Some local artists find their niche in photography and are able to make it by capitalizing on the every day things they are able to capture about their local area. Perhaps visionary artists are popping up all over with the same vision because we need change, and the artist are the just the people to bring it after this long oppression.
In tribal communities artists would trade their wares,it kept the tribe stocked with things of artistic necessity like blankets and pipes, but also things to trade with other tribes. What if some how, some way this visionary art is a local necessity as it goes about expanding minds, activating hearts, and making people thing beyond their normal bubble? I think it is. And before you know it, it going to be unavoidable.
Thank you to those who own and have influenced my art; those who hold it sacred, and realize your life is a little bit brighter because we have shared something beautiful. A lot of people look for one person to have babies with. I have taken a different route to loving those around me by allowing them to inspire a different kind of co-creation. I want to see us live in a better future, one giggling with bright colors of change. One we are appreciative of, and in awe to participate in. A life with Truth and appreciation of the experience. Each of you, in your own way have helped me become who I am through this process, and no words can express that gratitude I have for you in the sake of life and art!
May each of you receive the returned blessing of sharing your gifts with those waiting for what you have to offer. Each one of you does, it’s just a matter of figuring out how you can make it work. This always means committing to a certain degree of risk. But if you know me, than I know you can handle a little risk. Never be afraid to give the best parts of yourself in service of humanity, Each moment is priceless, each life is an investment, and each of us in our own way, is a necessary artist.
I can’t stop thinking… or feeling that there is something bigger that I am missing. Something BIGGER than the biggest big I could conceptualize. Everyday the search begins again. Little pieces to the bigger puzzle, leaving me empowered and confused. Addicted to the search. I have gained so many new tools in my stability that I have started to feel that rumble and shake inside telling me to move on and use this newly acquired knowledge.
Madge Midgely 