I am tweaking the geek vibe so it suits me
I’ve been in this state of murky
Ignoring the benefits of quirky
and now I ‘m wondering why I’ve let honor for myself swirl on down the loo
See sometimes I’m sarcastic
and people say
“You can’t say that shit..”
But I do
’cause humor suits you, like it suits me
Like finely tailored clothing
At times my mind is terribly inappropriate
I spit loogies and farmer blows
Unbeknown-st to who might be watching
Only because I know I’ll be laughing afterward
There was a point in time when my socks never matched
Not for lack of ability or aptitude
But rather, because I knew you’d feel rude for asking
And I am good at receiving looks of confusion
I will ask heartfelt and probing questions
to new acquaintances
Because I would rather ask and get a taste of your truth
than prudishly talking about the weather
getting no where
Sometime down the line of my evolution
I realized everyone has a surface
The real test is to find the core
The source and “what-for”
So call me weird
Call me a geek who makes you think
Harder than you gave your synapses credit for
I’ve spent hours under UV lights
With peers dooming, and grooming
Whilst in the corner I sat silently
Looming in observation
You don’t seem so different than me
With your brown eyes
And Ambercrombie
Truth is you never seem to see farther
Than your own surface
And man, I wouldn’t mind
Giving that a chance
But you call me the odd ball
Not at all friend caliber
Not quite cool enough because my stuff
Is thrift sore sale merchandise
And it’s like I haven’t paid the price of acceptance
With my second hand wardrobe
We sit across a room staring
I am imagining conversations we’ll have
Ten years down the road
When the load that is reality
Lays heavy upon your shoulders
All of a sudden
A burden of Truth
Superficiality the addiction of youth
Its tight grasp
And the weird in me says
“Maybe down the road we will share a laugh;
“Not because I am the source of deprecating harassment
“Time well spent on living has brought us comparable views”
Meanwhile I am going to allow this little presumption
To ride it’s course
There is no forcing this future on hollow eyes
And closed ears
Still I talk loudly about crass things
I settle onto the soapbox of dramatic beings
And you’ll wing on by
With out ever knowing my name
Occasionally you may see some
Semblance of recognition
Of this Freak with no shoes
Remember the news she’d sarcastically share
How you felt a little weird too
There was no way for it to show through
All those layers of popularity
Those moments of “look at me”
“I am something special
“My name brands and my mother
“Say so”
Someday we will all realize
We were each a little strange
And boarder line
You will finally realize why I chose
To show mine

getting back to the me I enjoy

I need three weeks a month of passion and laughter. One week for recuperation and me-time. And when I say I need passion three weeks a month, I mean passion for the good stuff; sunshine, clean air, hot raw love, and creativity. I want to wake up to the beating of my heart and the excitement for what is to come.
These days of foggy clouds hanging over my head both outside and within are far too muddled to be enjoyed. I want some other voice to chide me out of bed, rather than the one that tells me to stay glued to my sheets beyond the time of rising.
I want to look forward to seeing my lover instead of with holding myself during break outs, hoping to meet at a time better to my liking; closer to perfection. I don’t want my vices of social lubrication to overcome the once more energetic and pure parts of myself. To no longer have them taint my day with their distractions.
I want my full potential back, the part of me that isn’t listless and lost. The inside motivator sat dormant now for days. I want to see my purpose.
Three weeks of passion and laughter. One more somber week to myself. Days full of natural highs and less low lows. The better parts of me aching to escape. The parts some of us do not know.


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 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 8/19/2017 – posts from Shane that haven’t ever come up in my searches before.

**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.


They say, never give up.

Stupid poster with a crane swallowing a frog who refuses to give up and keeps on choking the crane… I think I remember that from the 2nd or 4th grade. I have dreams of giving up. Not showing up. Wasting time. Running around aimless, feeling like the underbelly of motivation.
I am empty and waiting. I have a play to do, and pure passion is not filling the reserves. The pit of myself feels icky. I don’t seem to have a lot to give and instead of looking forward to share this production, I feel ashamed of myself. Unready. Grasping to touch that part of me that wants to touch others. This play is hard. I understand it, and I don’t. I am not falling into character like I use to. I am struggling, it feels unfair, and unfamiliar. I am letting myself and my cast down. The movements feel forced and unnatural. Once upon a time I felt so disassociated from myself, it was easy to slip into someone else’s life. Now I am so wrapped up in my own, I fear the talent may be gone.


we are but fractions of reflections of one another
like facets of a diamond that glitter
and each in turn
shows brilliance enough for one
part of humanity to shine
we are each and the same
but with different names
and faces, living intertwined lives
in separate places, not like we are so different
but life has sent us to do similar things
in different ways
i thank you for the consolation in the abrupt realization
that geography must play a part
in our hearts directions
interaction through sensation
unexplainable connection through art
blessed be sister
along the road
to authentic organic expressions

You make YOUR OWN RULES Day!

Forget for a moment about the things you’ve been told for years; things like “get eight hours of rest a night,” and “Sometimes you have to do stuff you don’t want to do.” Throw it all out the window.
What would your day look like if you made the rules? Maybe you thrive on five hours of sleep, but you hold yourself in bed for eight because you read somewhere that it’s good for EVERYONE. Only to find that you lost your second wind for the day by “over resting.” Maybe eight is just a standard.
Maybe all these “rules” for living are standards. Maybe you do less than you would like for fear of getting hurt; maybe you have been told your whole life that you are a klutz. What do you think about yourself? What do you enjoy but avoid because of some etheric standard keeps you rooted in behavior outdated for your mode of living?
Maybe you want to try climbing, but tell yourself it’s too late, that your too old. Maybe there is another way to the top, you just haven’t been able to see it through the fear.
What if there were no “10 Commandments,” would you still make righteous decisions, would you still help humanity and your community? Would your internal moral compass lead you in the right direction, or would you waste away in confusion.
Some people function well with a frame work that has been proven by others, but most of us feel constraint from the expectations of these standardized rules. Making the expectations of others our own.
The artistry of living is sending invitation to join the calling of your heart. The pain in our world is crying for healing from Masters of change and Evolution. Are your insides feeling these growing pains?
Forget the rules for a day, live the way your heart calls for. Paint something obscure just to feel the weight of a brush in your hands and to participate in the glory of creation. Find a way to do something that fills you with extraordinary joy. Do something you have only thought about. Life is too short to be stuck in a standard of rules for those who are far from standard. In this day and age there are no longer excuses not to do what your spirit embodied physicality for.
If you have legs, use them. If you have resources, share them. If you have space for others, fill it. If you have knowledge, give it. If you seek guidance, ask for it. If you have love, make it multiply. If all you have is encouragement and a smile, gift them often. If you feel like changing into a better you… start today.
If life lived by your own rules causes you to thrive without forsaking the safety and health of yourself or others, than tell others how it worked for you. Be persuasion to change by always taking the best and leaving the rest. The world needs big thinkers and do-ers. The world needs the involvement of every heart and mind. Wake up, open your eyes, and welcome to a new day.

Cure for the Collective Unrest

We did it again.
Started the summer amped for beach bodies and skinny dipping. Begging to be the best version of ourselves to date. The accessibility of self comparisons to past and present peers is in our faces, thanks to these social networking sites.
In a wave of collective consciousness each status update was a bold exclamation of “self improvement.” The hankering to be lighter, thinner. Somehow perhaps even more spiritually permeable?
We jumped in together, two months ago. Into the diets, exercise and fasting that seem to be a staple response these days to the warmer months. And why not with all those products on the market promising that everyday people can look like stars.
A test: of will power and a change of habits built strong over winter. Habits and attitudes packed tightly into the pounds of fat we tuck away for winter storage. Proving self mutilization to be a bigger predicament world wide than the media would let on. Addictions to stimulants, foods, pain, war and sickness, all wrapped tightly into a comfortable coat we call discouragement.
Our bodies scream to break free, our minds agree; and yet the will broken by time, lags in response. Perhaps the first week or two is easiest. Emotion and determination are fuel for the fire. Jump started metabolisms eased on by early morning runs, walks with loved ones and friends; realization the discouragement coat is too tight… Pushing the limits hard and fast, ultimately leaving a lot of us, some how empty. Emotionally undernourished, physically over-worked, and attacking this whole thing in a very bassakwards way.
Two months down the road; the push of new beginnings finds you looking at a pile of empty beer cans, the question of how the first two weeks could change so quickly and again wondering how you could eat that much cheese.
We feel it together. There is something happening to us as humans seeking deeper communion with ourselves, and one another. An aching so strong we literally want to shed our skin. To tear off the weight of centuries of oppression. We are reaching out in ways new to this world. And still, it is easier to get sucked into this vicarious way of living, checking up on one another just so we can build ourselves up by condemning others. Remembering vividly the pain of youth and holding those who hurt us: once upon a time; responsible even years later.
You told me I was ugly twenty years ago, why do I still hold you responsible. Have I blamed you for so long I have indeed become ugly?
Are we packing all this old baggage in our fat? All the old harbored feelings left unaddressed? The pain and the blame of childhood days now just lingering in the struggle to be better? Inside something doesn’t fell right. We would rather starve ourselves to look better in hopes of feeling more acceptance and deprive the body of personal work to achieve what would be considered an ideal quick cure. We want a cure; instant gratification style. We do not want to slow down to get there. To look too deep into painful waters, to see our own reflection in the common struggle that acts like a wave.
It isn’t easy to look back at comments made by our peers, to take back the blame and become responsible for our personal actions of today.
You may have told me I was ugly, but I was the one who listened, I allowed myself to believe you, too weak to believe in myself. No one forced me. It is me who relives those things on a daily basis to prove you right, because somewhere down the line I didn’t believe I could be worthy of being more than your projection. I couldn’t believe I had anything valid to offer. Externally if there was a consensus of no beauty then internally it must be just as flawed. My fear that everyone felt about me, the way you did, kept me from testing that theory for truth. Instead I created a buffer between me and society. Obviously a buffer built of fat and sadness. The fastest way to alienation in a superficial society is to become a less than optimal aesthetic of yourself. To physically hide behind pain in full view of others. The sensitive are prone to this path.
I don’t even remember your name now, just the horrible things you said that I took for facts. Some where at the back of my mind it’s given me excuses for over consumption of food and drink. I took it into account in every situation where I felt like the underdog.
Quietly confirming this lack of worth. You were never a friend, and never pretended to be; why your words would mean so much to me is hard to perceive. Left only with the reminders of how I have taken your view and made it my own.
You stood for popularity, the one who is liked even though it comes at the sake of others. You could say mean things and they would be taken like sacred relics by your cronies. I could speak truth for the sake of balance and be ignored. Anything you wanted was yours with a word or seemingly so. I have worked very hard for my place in existence, though humble it may be.
I have hung in the background watching the dynamics. I have seen your type come and go, blowing down mountains along the way, always taking the violent road to get to the top. All along, you have a similar pain, and are probably taking it out on yourself in solitude. I have examined this mind and heart, this intention of soul asking whose Truth I have really been living. And at times it is my own; the positive, ambitious, kind and brave attitude that prevails..
Through the ability to self motivate and observe, I see this fear does not serve me, this pain is only a ball and chain, that this buffer of old trauma is no longer my Truth. I am ready to strengthen my will, I am happy to do the work, and I am strong enough to become a better version of myself than has ever existed. I have seen my own personal ability to change. It takes time, and time gets shorter. I must use it wisely, to push harder when it is appropriate. Betterment with out forsaking the Self and the Selves of others, it is always appropriate. Life is rarely instant gratification, and those things that are, prove to be just as fleeting.
The work of change isn’t a month long diet. It’s an adjustment of attitudes and a life long shift that ebbs and flows but never goes away. It realizes that “I am He, as You are Me, and We are all Together.”
This isn’t a time for us to feel condemned to alienation through a pain we all feel. This is a new season where the old adage “Sharing is caring” rings true. Pieces of me, are pieces of you.
In the words of that famous writer Anonymous..” Remember in order to change your life… First; YOU must change, otherwise nothing else will. If you continue to do things as you have always done them, your life will remain the same.”
Let us tear into the layers of our soul and pull back the skin of our fear in order for the best parts of us to show, and for the fragile parts to find communion and healing.
We are not in this alone, we never were. First you must change your mind, and live another way. Open your eyes to new perceptions. We change the world we live in by first becoming righteous examples of the love, life and humor we wish to see in our reality.
The rest is just daily reminders to stay aware and flexible, not an easy task for someone weighed down by outdated modes of thinking.
Shed old thoughts that no longer serve like useless weight on a long trek. Take only what you really need, leave the rest behind. Only those who have made room for the new discoveries ahead will be allowed to partake in what will be offered. Out with the old, in with the new; and be prepared to discover who you really are. What your soul aches to be, the reason it took you so long to see it before. Be prepared to see a bigger picture, not just the microcosm of your personal existence. The interplay of lives that surround you; the affects and effects of moving up in vibration. Be brave, it is not for the faint of heart.

A portal of inner exploration

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