Category Archives: insight

Everything All At Once

Sometime in the Spring of 2006, I sat on some sea side cliff outside Mendocino, California and I had a truly transcendental DMT experience.

I had imbibed the charismatic chemical maybe twice before- but in a moderate amount that didn’t catapult me from my body- rather showed me the interconnected threads.

Rewind to the first time.

Eugene, Oregon- the house of a bear whose color was blue

He saw threads all the time- and when he saw me- he gave the invite

The first time I did DMT- I was slight- my sight became loose- and in between the focus of his room I saw his connections to everything coming out from him in blue and red threads-

The things he loved were connected in red

His ambivalence existed in blue

I was truly in the Matrix

His cocoon wrapped around me with both colors

I could see he loved me with all of his heart in this moment- but he wasn’t invested in me beyond what was at hand

Can you imagine it? To meet someone new with no future expectation- to just fully embrace them in the time that you have- and then send them on their way?

Nothing near sexual happened, but it was deeply intimate.

In this beginning of seeing the connection of things in a very visual and tangible way- I didn’t see my own threads. I just saw the construct of my host.

People came and went- One stayed for hours. Raven sat with me and we created art into the early morning hours.

Flashforward – I’m on this cliffside- the sun is in a vibrant set of mind. I am sitting with a frenamy- a sister- a questionable source.

I am along for the ride because of curiosity and responsibility to accompany purpose- though I am not sure what that is yet.

I take in three, strong, long hits as the sun sinks into the horizon.

I am transported beyond space and time into a place which is every color and every feeling to have ever exist in a tiny box of emotional explosion.

My physical body looses control and I am laughing and crying and gasping for air- but I only see colors until I am safely returned to my body with a singular thought;

“It’s all a joke. One beautiful and sick joke.”

For a moment I feel reconciliation.

Yellow House

Overall the house is rather inconspicuous. It sits on the corner. It’s weathered exterior doesn’t draw much attention. I find it significant because it is the second yellow house I have lived in- in a row.

The subdivided dwelling holds approximately 19 living beings with an extra two who dwell in the detached garage. Ten humans and nine animals in the main house. Two adults in the garage. Six Adults and four children under the age of seven along with five cats and four dogs in the main house.

Overall the house is pretty quiet during the day. One Retiree, Three worker bees and me- the artist trying to figure things out.

The loudness comes in waves. The neighbor comes home to let the dogs out- the kids come home from school. The neighbor’s live in boyfriend come home loudly on cue as if he is lugging the weight of the world soaked in anger.

There are a few personalities here that disrupt the otherwise still home.

Each one brings the anger soaked world with them. So entrenched in their own chaos they forget that we are sharing walls in this subdivision. They become ignorant that their vehement actions effect the lives around them.

Just a month ago I called the non emergency line several times. Disruption of peace, but also the fear that something sinister may be afoot with the reckless actions and words vibrating the wood fiber of our dwelling.

It is those raised voices that lend a feeling that one isn’t safe- and in my childhood I didn’t know how to react in those situations- other than to shut up and take cover. In my adulthood I have no tolerance for other adults who choose to treat those they claim to love with such vitriol. I also acknowledge that I am not an expert in de-escalation- and sometimes it is vital to seek help.

The retaliation hasn’t been that bad- but the fear it could escalate is evident. I want to think I have done the right thing- because I, myself are not threatening on the surface. Bring in the uniform- face your threat of authority ripping your life away. Sometimes we need it on the road to better things. You realize you do not want to act in a way that would make you a lighthouse in the dark with those who can change your reality.

Anyway- the house is like an instrument that changes cadence when certain people arrive or leave. And the stillness I crave tries to numb itself as these repetitive and scheduled waves activate the creaks of floors and slams of doors.

Even the new baby cries in a way that isn’t threatening- like it learned in the womb that they must not overly upset the tyrant that is their father- but I know somewhere down the road that this little boy will tower over his father- and that battle will eventually end.

Cryptic.

I’ve known since I moved in that this house is a wayward spot for the drifting – craving roots and something stable but the house will show you your worst self. And you can either work at it and get toward better and then it will spit you out, or you can reconcile your worst and stay in that zone and it will also spit you out.

It is a perfect place to reformulate what you want from yourself- because settling here isn’t for anyone but the retiree, whose son owns the house and wants a safe place for his father.

I like safety. The anger trolls compromise the feeling of safety not just for me- but for anyone who can hear their tirades. It becomes ironic when these tirades lead to having their own safety feel compromised. At this point the challenge is on the the individual to comprehend why someone may make an effort to level the playing field.

I know I am not wrong in action, but it can feel as such when retaliation comes to play.

Meanwhile the house is going to let us in and let us figure out what we have to learn in the comfort of walls and a roof. The house doesn’t ca re so much- it knows it’s job. The house is a house- it is our lives that give it life and make it a home- and a home can be comfortably uncomfortable.

Whats Love Got to Do With It?

I think we need to have a talk about Love.

I think we are mature enough to look at it from various perspectives and start to really feel and observe what this concept is beyond the word, itself.

Love, isn’t one thing or one feeling.  It isn’t one singular expression that is universal in output.  In fact it is as ever changing and unique as each human is- and each human changes and develops over time.

But Love is also consistent and steady and holds itself with such secure solidification that one may ask how both could be the same and cohesive at the same time.

Love is more than a word that is used too much and not enough.

Love is a feeling that is intangible but has, at times tangible reward.

Love in it’s most true form can not be corrupt- for its expanse leaves no room for corruption.  It is only those on the surface who use the term with superficial meaning that bastardize the depth of the concept.

No worries though- there is always some hope that True Love can be found or will find you.

The first Love we know is from our parents or primary care givers in our early development.   They set us up with expectations that love may equate ultimate forgiveness and freedom, or that love equates some sort of punishment; then again it may present as non existent as a word- that there is some void of connection to the word that is often connected to a feeling.

Then there are the loves we find beyond those beacons that bring us into the world- those gods that brought us life.  Those on the outskirts that are different but familiar- grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins. We love them too.  But each is expressing it in a certain and unique way that may or may not be healthy.

And we learn- we are mushy little beings in the beginning- we are absorbing like a sponge.  And Love is a word with a unique feeling that shifts and changes with these beginning relationships.

We get older- hormones come to play.  We see our peers now in a new way as physical and mental development weave with the comprehension of our soul.  Attraction becomes something that steals our attention.  The biology we cannot control brings new focus.  If religion is involved things get even more complicated because something in it fights the reptilian brain.

I could ask anyone and everyone would define “Love” differently- that should give you pause because the word is thrown around like confetti- it is strewn about as decoration. I don’t like that.  I take the word very personally knowing everyone defines it in their own way.

It’s an awkward way to live.

I’ve never been about the superficial meaning.  I’ve never been about throwing the word around like it is candy or a treat to waste away the senses.  I use it, when I mean it, the way I comprehend it.  It is not a designer label, it is not a place holder.

It is a brief moment when I am saying “all is forgiven”- I feel for the best of you in the depth of my core and therefore you have my care.

You won’t find that in the dictionary.  Most people won’t define “Love” in anyway close to that.

There is “conditional love” and “unconditional love.”

I don’t want anything to do with conditional love.  I want to specialize in “Unconditional Love.”

I am familiar with rejection and I don’t want to feel it again, nor do I want anyone else to feel that feeling.  The word “Love” is not the answer or solution because it is so unique.

In the Love Languages I am a service oriented do-er type.  I show love by action.

When I feel love it is hard to deal with the energy that comes with it because I do not use the spell of the word to convey the feeling.  I take the feeling and I do something that shows the care that I have for the one who is getting affection.

I would bleed myself dry for love.  I would work to the bone for love.   I would sacrifice my time for love- but I will only use the word every so often to make a point- and if the focus of my attention was paying attention they could see that.

We don’t live in the ideal world…yet.  It hasn’t worked out so well for me in the way I perceive.  It is easy to feel like it is all daunting- but it isn’t because everything is temporary.  My Love is so big- the word “love” is just not good enough.  It has been co-opted and bastardized by inappropriate boxes and labels.

The movies try and drag you into “romantic” and “unrequited love”, the psychologists try and tell you that even though your parents abused you, they also loved you, and that even though you may hate them, you still love them.

Abusers love to use the word love as a psychological manipulation tool.

People read scripture and bastardize that too and make the examples of unconditional love fit a prerogative.

I don’t like it- I don’t want to do it and when the word comes out of my mouth you better know I mean it wholeheartedly but in a very, very big way.  Nothing about it is superficial.

I know we all deserve love in that way- that we deserve to know what it is and what it feels like, but people are too scattered in their mind mayhem and survival to break it down.

Tonight I break the construct of superficial love and help reintroduce the TRUE REAL EVERLASTING AND UNCONDITIONAL LOVE that is the core of our being- our heartbeat, our bread and water and breath.

No more will these chains of superficial nature keep us bound in ideas of condition love.  No more will the phraseology be used as a psycho/emotional tool.  NO MORE.

Everyday I work for all of us, because I believe and LOVE all of us.  It isn’t work like a normal job- it actually looks like nothing to me if I were to look in on it- it isn’t a perceivable work.  That doesn’t make it un-important- sometimes it confuses me too.  I am human and fallible-  but that it allows me to not care what you think you do or do not see.  It is happening beyond your view.

I DO Love you all.   I DO want the best for you.  I WILL Work for the best case scenario for us all. I DO NOT need the word “Love” to prove my work.  That word never did prove the work.

If you feel profound Love for someone- do the work- see what they need and help them meet their needs.  Show up.  Be there.  Say the word if it gives them comfort, but refrain if you don’t feel the feeling in your core.  Know that not everyone enjoys the word, read the room and figure if it’s been over used and has lost it’s meaning like saying the word “Fork” one hundred times.

We are all at different places on the playground.  Honor that most- it takes no words.

This Transparency

I knew at a very young age that marriage and children were not in my cards.  I didn’t spend time dreaming up the dress unless it was to try and meld with my peers.  I came up with the weirdest name for the imaginary daughter I would never have.  It was really mythical in my opinion; Azora Wynter.  I guess “azora” means sky blue.  The name is beautiful and somewhat depressing unless you are a skier who appreciates a good fresh powder blue bird day.

I came up with that name when I was in junior high school, in the beginning of my depression as I tried to blend in with peers while still holding on to the self that existed beneath the required social structures.   And if time doesn’t exist- it was perhaps in that moment, coming up with that name that I deeply knew some day, I would make a decision so that spirit of something would not have time on this earthly realm.

We actually know a lot about ourselves at a young age and the world will either capitalize on it or try and wipe you clean of what you remember.

When my parents would say “Just wait until you have your own kids.”  I would vehemently tell them I wouldn’t be having any.  So far I have stuck to it.

When I was little, before anyone said anything about it- I believed in Mind Over Matter.  Weird that it comes as an acronym for MOM- because losing my mom at a young age is where many of these belief systems originated.

A mom is an amalgamated foundation for survival and life experience- when there is no mom a child grows up quickly out of need and survival.  It’s also very traumatizing but not something that can be openly discussed because the adults have a hard time quantifying painful situations- or at least historically it appears that way.

I thought and observed a lot of interesting things when I was young yet there was no real outlet for rumination of that sort.  Parents want you to be good and listen and follow directions.  Peers are trying to out do themselves with being “cool.”  I was in a constant spiritual battle and very aware of it on the physical realm.   Religion only made the struggle even more brutal.

I’ve fought myself to be where I am right now and if you were on the outside looking in you might find it a sad plight.  Over times I have been nearly dredged of whatever external drive I may have been given in this dream world.  I don’t want fame, I don’t want fortune.  I want to be in peace with the land and myself and anyone of that ilk is invited to join me in camaraderie and contemplation.

This isn’t my world.  I know it is a strange thing to say because here I am living up in it-  yet I am in the world, and not of it.  More and more I disassociate from it- not because I am frightened, but because it is so dissonant except for where it resonates.   These spots of resonance are so physically far removed from one another, that I am certain if they were in proximity something just may change with such a rush it would catch many off guard.

Meanwhile, here we are broadcasting these resonator waves  trying to create bubbles of heaven to inhabit.

This all sounds so crazy, but we need to be transparent about what is actually happening here.  I don’t spend all day and night focused in this way for nothing.  As time speeds up and this focus has apparent results for those beyond myself, this work just feels like it has to be done and I have been set up to participate in a greater effort for the whole.

This feeling that we came from somewhere else is pervasive in my common community.

For a long time I have felt that we will not recognize Jesus or the Christ because he is here in the faces of those fighting this spiritual battle that they were born for- incarnated to face.  The Christ spirit has been here for a long time- it is already embedded in those who are willingly here but have always wanted to go Home.

It is time to realize your roles in this play.  It is time to be transparent about what you are here to do and do it. It is okay to be in the middle, but realize there are two sides to the fence and walking the fine line takes practice and strategy.   You could fall at any time to either side.  Also remember that there is more than one way to get where you are going and you are a unique creation with permission to make your own way which make be more akin to a dance or carving your own path.

In this journey- some things stick and others fall away.  Pick your little battles wisely because the war isn’t yet over.

Post-Apocolyptic Laundry

Imagine if you will- a tech-dominated world where people are slowly trickling in.  Their one domestic responsibility is to have responsibility for their own laundry.  In divided groups at certain times, they trek down to the last slow-running river in order to beat the shit out of their clothes.  This is their way of staying connected to nature and need. However, the scene is always distorted somehow by the leftover frequencies that pollute the air.

This piece is about a  woman trying to remember the “other world” she uses to live in, and she feels a very strong desire to share these memories with anyone who will listen.  In this world, it is rarely silent, but there are only certain times when it is permissible to speak.  The tones of the reception are measuring the frequency of the output from the people, and if the speaker derails into topics not meant for discussion- the frequency reflects that.

This is a personal compilation of solo creations I have made in the last month.  I would like to add more stories to this because I want to introduce you to Maggie- and her story is incredible.  We wouldn’t know about the Laundry Lady if we didn’t recognize Maggie and her participation in bringing her to view.

Please enjoy- Post-Apocalyptic Laundry-

 

 

Here Are My Albums

Ale and I have been continuing to pass each other soundbites through the ether in hopes of finally healing some dark human wound that we all possess and would like to ascend from, so you can imagine that sometimes things get weird.

These albums are no exception.  They are audio journies in long-form. They have the power to take you where you need to go- if you have the patience to listen and relax into it.

These compositions have been a pleasure to make and they really force me to be present with all synapses firing.  I am not in a preconceived attempt- I simply do what I feel like doing in a moment; that may be a vocal reading, collecting sounds or beating the shit out of an instrument in a way it was not designed to be used.

This process has developed into quite a conduit of expression and creativity that keeps me on my toes when it comes to imagination.  This is what I want to share with you.

I want you to take the grit with the beauty and awkward and the graceful interlude.   To feel all of it for yourself with no preconceived notion of where it will lead you.  All I ask is that you invite your imagination for the journey.  And thank Alessandro Muresu for any grace that comes from these compositions- he has the gentle touch that balances everything you hear within these gifts.

All of his contact info is in the video description. Subscribe to his channel, he makes new music EVERY DAY!

Let me know how it plays out for you in the end!

 

What is going on?

Twenty-five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill
Of hope for a destination
I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made up of this brotherhood
Of man for whatever that means

And so I cry sometimes
When I’m lying in bed
Just to get it all out
What’s in my head
And I, I am feeling a little peculiar

And so I wake in the morning
And I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream from the top of my lungs,
“What’s going on?!”

Lyrics “What’s Up” 4 Non Blondes

 

I’ve been off of Facebook now, for some months.

It was my source of local relation and information about the microcosm I live within.

It was my way to know about social happenings and city evolutions.

It was the place of the updates about my up and coming 20th high school reunion.

I wonder if I threw away a useful network.

Now it’s just me and the people who are in direct contact with my daily life with no pretense.

Now it is me and animals and vegetation and Gma.

These recent days have been full of insight that comes in sparingly in regard to outside parties, however, it hasn’t stopped the insights I have been pulling in and building since before the FB exodus.

What the hell is happening in my town?

Oh, just The Story of Old in a  New Digital Era.

I am on twitter @MadgeMidgely– my local newspaper The Wyoming Tribue Eagle posts on twitter.  Almost every published article is behind a paywall.  Why then use Twitter?  I don’t think more than a handful of people follow them.    Many of these published pieces are basic AP Wire reporting from other places across the map- yet, still behind a paywall.

The most worthwhile reporting in the aforementioned periodical are obits and police blotters.  It is generic and lacks substance when it comes to the content of local reporting.

A few of the things I want to know, as of recently-is in regard to the magnanimous money drops made in our downtown area.  I want to know what the hell is happening under our noses through developing backdoor deals.   I want to know how the “Good Ole Boys” club is adapting to the digital age by funding the progeny lines of wealth, and what it means to the regular Cheyenne resident in the long run.

I don’t want to pay $14.00 for a cocktail downtown to impress anyone.  Look into the scam of alcohol pricing.

I like to go to my favorite hole in the wall pub when I get the chance and have a reasonably priced adult beverage while having a conversation with old-timer locals who work hard for people who have the money and tend to abuse their help.   Sounds like a good time, right?

My attention toward them is like a rainbow during a storm,  and each time I see these people, these residents of the city I live in, I see how time and lack of appreciation are taking its toll.   If anyone shows up to a memorial for them, it will be because of the potential for free drinks, or to brag about what a good job they did for business… That will be the end of it, until some night down the line, a patron gets drunk and sentimental, and maybe says something out of line or provocative.

These are the type of people who live downtown, but will never be able to enjoy what it has to offer as the money dumps and changes proceed without consideration to the local community.

It kind of sounds like gentrification.

Those with money are not asking what Cheyenne NEEDS as a city with a variable in demographics, however, they are putting their money where their desires are, and these aren’t “passion projects”- these are investments.

Of course, a person can invest in their own passion project, but this usually comes later once an entrepreneur type is more established.

Investments require only a passion to make large amounts of residual income.  Something that pays for itself over and over again- something the investor finds useful to their own vision and benefit.

Why does it feel like my city has no planning?

Because it doesn’t it seem to with any legitimacy.  This is a town that once was segregated by the direction of the roads- where “colored people” couldn’t purchase property in the Avenues.

It mostly appears to be a hustle and shuffle behind closed doors between people with money and vision over drinks outside of government regulation.  The government is complacent in just trying to find streams of income without actually planning the city based on its needs and developing a unique personality. Oh and some of these money streams hold government positions.

I live in a town of nepotism.

We are like the old western town fronts that were just pieces of boards propped up and painted in some sort of nostalgia that wants to shift on a dime and become “hip”- but it has no foundation for such a broad jump.   Just because it “wants to be” something, doesn’t mean that it is, or is ready for what it means for a dramatic personality shift in a drastic and different direction.

I want to think that the younger entrepreneurs in my city mean the best, and are using their wealth in that direction- but I sense they are connected to the streams of wealth that are unrealizable for the average joe, and that connection alone is going put them in places of authority that they may or may not actually deserve.

Politics is interesting as it is one of the few ways a supported individual can make insane strides by blowing hot air up innocent asses just by spouting a vision that most likely will never come to fruition in the way the average person expects-  it sets people up to become accustomed to that kind of  lose delegation through promises with little argument.

It’s time we look beyond the excitement that appears with the hope of the “next new exciting thing” and to start building something that has longevity and value to the people who call this place “home.”

We need to ask ourselves as a community, “what do we actually need, and what do we actually want?”   And that is what we need to petition for and realize- even if it means finding ways around the common construct that we take for granted to provide us infrastructure.

If those who are in tight with the acquisition of property and moving large dollar sums really want to “help” their community, they will ask those questions and listen very carefully to answers of the people.

It is fine if Cheyenne decides to be a modest but interesting destination.

We don’t need to compete if we find our own voice and integrity.  Sadly it is becoming evident that we will not be able to rely on our governing parties and their networks to ring lead that kind of mission when they have the best and easiest connections to resources.

It is going to have to be a community of people who demand transparency and who are willing to call out corruption and malfeasance, then disseminate that information to the residence to decide for themselves about.   That in and of itself is a battle of interest vs. disinterest.

Life can be hard enough without investing in politics.  Most people want to live and let live and hope they have enough to fund their life with a little leftover, or for that unexpected expense.  These won’t be the people in the $425,000 condo’s that are the gateway to the “up and coming” art district for interest.

No, the people who would actually do best in an art district, are not the seeds the city wants to be planted in that area, and they couldn’t afford it anyway.   Those people would flip the investment on its head with new ideas that don’t necessarily pop dollar signs in the eyes of investors- those ideas could be the rejuvenation this small city needs.

Now is the time to make it known that we want certain things to happen unless we settle and let go of the reigns, just to see how it unfolds as we continue to complain about the outcomes.

Your move citizens of Cheyenne, your move.

 

Follow The Money

Do you ever look at a building with crazy architecture and wonder,

“Who the hell had the money and idea to build that, and where did THEY get the money to do it?”

Buildings certainly are not getting cheaper, and restorations can easily go into the millions.  Who is paying for all of it and why is it looking more generic all the time?

We need to refamiliarize ourselves with the creation of the Federal Reserve, which is neither Federal- nor technically any sort of reserve.

It is simply our central banking system that makes printed money paper out of thin air, backed by nothing but the hard day’s work of the normal people who keep the system rolling and the drops in a bucket that the money launderers pay when they are forced.

I don’t want socialism, but what we have isn’t much better.

People want transparency- and the lack of it in our system will be the biggest downfall.  The corrupt dealings behind the scenes are coming to light on the mainstage and if you find that shocking, wait until the local expose’ relevant your area comes to your eyes.

Every city was built up the same way to a certain degree, starting on the supposed level playing field of Right vs. Left.

A battle back and forth played with money and acquisition along with the influence of religion, which the government covertly hid behind “separation of Church and State.”

The same people giving big to the churches were the same people holding up righteous illusion in public forum while playing dirty deeds in the back chambers.  Every single city was built on some sort of corruption and program facilitated by religion and the govern tied to wealthy individuals with secret purpose in collusion.

One cannot be a “normal person” and think about this for too long because it seems unbelievable, and shit, there are bills to pay and mouths to feed, and there is no extra time for an existential breakdown due to too much truth.

I don’t care where you live- what are the common last names?  What do they do and what do they own? What church is their family known to attend?  How many of them have held public office or have networks with people of a similar ilk?

If your family has been in the same place for a long time- have you worked for these people?  Went to school with the children and grandchildren- did you see evidence of entitlement from them when you were growing up?  Did they seem emotionally disturbed under a false illusion of superiority?  Did you find out later that their families were just a show on the outside- and they had back door dealings of their own?

Yeah- these are the families that sustain our city infrastructure, politics, religious and educational institutions that employ everyday people working hard to make a living.  These are the families that make and break/brake legislation in our government for reasons we have yet to realize.

It’s sad but true that these innocuous everyday places have been a breeding ground for people who really don’t always have the communities best interest at heart, despite having elected civilians in public offices who supposedly speak for the people at large.

Most of those civilian elected positions are filled by people in alignment with other agendas and serve as a buffer zone between the community at large and the actual governing bodies that delegate the consumption of funds from whatever coffer they hold trust in.  They are the “pillars of the community”. They serve to hold the roof over the foundation- whatever that may mean.

So what kind of place would you actually like to live in- if you had authority and infinite resources? 

Would you want a cluster of people and a large booming place, or say a nice quiet country town. maybe something in the middle?

It’s easier to live in a bustling city to some degree than it is to move unknowingly to a small place.  In the small place, the politics are more blatant and they recognize a newcomer right away- in a city, you can blend in or stick out- it’s up to you and the political agenda of things may be more hidden as there are other things that one can find interesting or entertaining.

In both situations, if one neglects to build a rapport with the location and the people, one will find oneself somewhere else once effort and frustration set in. Eventually, it seems reasonable that it would just be better to start over somewhere else.  That is the thing about people- nothing ever seems good enough- the grass is always greener somewhere else. No one wants to tend their own garden without payout in some regard, whether the payout is sustenance, beauty or comfort in the activity.

A person can build their own little heaven anywhere- but it isn’t easy, and one can’t define their personal heaven by any other blueprint or prefabricated overlay.  The tenacity it takes to energetically build a space for oneself can be daunting.

We want to find ourselves in places that we truly love on many levels; the people, the location, the scenery and the ability to actively engage or not. 

Much of this draw on a large scale is dictated by politics, religion and the purposeful circulation of large amounts of money.

However, individuals tend to stay in a location when they build a community or get absorbed into one adding a sense of security and support.  Community makes life worth living.

A lack of participation in politics is a byproduct of the fact it takes time and money to be involved- and when you don’t have either of those things, basic priorities come first, almost to the point that one is basically forced to step out of paying attention to it altogether.  It’s a stress that can be managed by ignoring and silently rolling with the punches.

Those are the same people who need a voice in representation- they can tell you how hard it can be, they might even have some really innovative solutions- but they can’t find a baby sitter for three hours in the evening after having the babysitter there all day, in order to attend a city council meeting where they may or may not have the opportunity to speak.

Money Speaks.

I grew up in a town that didn’t seem to have much to offer when I was growing up in the ways of city type entertainment- I also didn’t have a strong personal community of friends who planned on staying in town after graduation. We had dreams of leaving this podunk town and finding a home as far away as we could find comfort with.  There was no reason for me to stay when I finished school- and like many creative kids, I had my eyes set on NYC and school for performing arts.

My “dreams” didn’t happen for lack of pursuit or ability-  my “dreams” didn’t happen because I was able to see snippets of a dark underbelly and I made a conscious choice to change my own mind about following a popular pursuit filled with popular but sick people.  I left a popular program. 

I don’t want to be entangled with people who live off of a corrupt illusion- I don’t want to be handled.  I’d prefer to think for myself.

I’ve seen how people in authority with money and power take advantage of ignorant dreamers working to make something true and genuine.  All the while the dreamer was merely an investment in some other agenda they never received a memo about.

The money is fake, the entertainment is fake, the politicians are fake, the religion keeps the division. Depriving the individual spirit; providing only backtalk that spouts lack worth in the unique spirit that is the unique you.  We have continued to feed the facade.  Running off to those supposed greener pastures when home and the ability to be good enough was inside of you the whole time, YOU just never thought a whole city could operate on that level and settled for the closest approximation.

How many people want to go home, but feel like they can’t because they have nothing to show after pursuing a hopeless dream?

They were profound in youth and everyone “knew they would be someone someday”.  They did anything they could while they were away chasing some big dream, probably even some things they would rather not admit which led to being smacked in the face with how  we are programmed to think we can do anything we set our mind to- only to find out the next gateway exists to those who are willing to sell themselves out to the people with the bankrolls that invest in individuals with dreams that will assist in selling a large and selfish agenda.

Enough is truly enough. We will no longer settle for being treated/ bought and sold like livestock to populate your weird human ranches.

 

 

Unconventional: Rise Above to Reform

Have you ever been at a point, where it all seems so obvious and you can’t believe people are still arguing over what is blatant?

That is me, here, now in this cybersphere.  I thought that by leaving FB I would find respite- but one doesn’t simply go cold turkey with social media- they migrate and adapt.

For me, this was moving over to Twitter, where the conversation completely changed and I felt like I jumped into the deep end of the lake.

On FB, I had over 500 friends and over a 100 followers… I know, I know; nothing to brag about, but it equaled engagement.

On Twitter, I have roughly 90-96 followers and I am pretty sure at least a dozen of them are surveillance.  When one of the surveillance accounts realizes I am useless- they move on.  That’s cool- what ev’s.

That doesn’t stop the weirdness on my end though- Nope.  I am still at the mercy of algorithms when I go check my feed.

My motto:  “I’ll follow back until your posts get whack.”

Why?   I am not your judge- I am not your jury.  If you start posting stuff that makes me want to act in a negative or violent way- I will simply remove you the way I would a thorn or a splinter.

I will pay attention to the wound, give it care with things that will remove the intrusion.

This doesn’t mean I am running away or avoiding things- it means I am doing what I can to control my internal environment which will ultimately impact my external environment.  I could let my wound fester, or I could care for it and bring it back to optimum function.

90% of what I see posted online, makes me want to kick someone in the shins- why?  Probably because when we hurt we try and hurt others and the things I see posted bring me more than a modicum of pain.

If leaving FB taught me anything, it’s that I am sick of making myself responsible for the pain of others, or assuming that I was the source of pain, to begin with, because that is how hard we can be on ourselves.  We will assume so hard that a post is about us, that it will tear us up inside and then overflow into the life we live that isn’t attached at all to a SIMPLE FUCKING POST!

It’s crazy- but it’s real and normal for day to day life.   How many people are lugging around their own unspoken guilt and ruining the lives of others because a post was worded in a way that makes an individual have to face their own conscience?

I had to leave because I was on the brink of kicking shins because of the fakeness of all of it.  I wanted to kick shins because it would really hurt, in real time- but it isn’t fatal, but it is brutal.

I sit here at times just hoping for a real and raw conversation about how fucked up we are individually and in groups- not because I want to further twist a wound but because I can’t wait to find people who are finally mature enough to address the issue while also avoiding kicking shins.

I’ve found people would rather kick shins until they are bruised or deal with broken toes that have to heal from all the kicking.

I want a conversation or ten to be good enough.  Most people would rather mince words, or not talk at all, because they know their words will hurt as bad as a bruised shin.

When I say “I can’t do this anymore.”  It is because I truly can not do it anymore. I am smart enough to know that there are others in the world who don’t want to operate on the program we have been fed- and those are my loves of forever.  They are the ones who keep coming back, again and again, so that none of us are left alone in the struggle.

Those of us aware of the struggle, say “NO MORE!”   We are done.

 

 

How Wang Fô was saved

For some months now- Ale has been intent on this story of “How Wang Fô was Saved”  and he found inspiration to record an Italian translation of the story accompanied by music made specifically for this creation.

I was honored to be asked to create an English translation of the story- which Ale also created accompaniment for.

I had not read the story before the recording.  I wanted to test my voice with the words- and once I began reading out loud- I said: “screw it- start the recording.”

You are hearing the story unfold for me for the very first time.  I am not exactly sure how it will weave.  There are moments you can hear my voice fall because I am shocked at the revelations the text is painting.

I was left with some beautiful insights and contemplations.  I hope this story can do the same for you.   Please join us  as we share the story of:

How Wang Fô was saved