Tag Archives: evolution

Art, insight, Writing

February 12, 1999

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I was able to apprehend a job at a local radio station when I was in High School.  I have to admit that I felt it was one of the coolest jobs a kid could have.  It didn’t pay much, and believe it or not, it required more responsibilities and checks than most HS kids have in jobs.  I stayed in radio for roughly 4 years on and off.  I still think it is one of the coolest, underpaid jobs in the world.  Here is a taste of a normal day observation back at KRAE/ KRRR; run by the iconic Tom Bauman.  

Tom reminded me of the cigarette smoking man on the X-files.  He was a strict mystery clouded by smoke.  His daughter Brenda, one of the main DJ’s,  was my favorite person at the station.  She loved my thrift store clothes, that reminded her of her youth.  Occasionally she would inform her listening audience on my daily attire.

For a few years, the KRAE family, was my second family.  I miss those old days, on the radio.   I loved that Tom wanted me on his crew.  I watched as the initial take overs of small stations were usurped by larger broadcasting conglomerates, infiltrating one of the oldest local stations in the region.

My how times have changed.  Please enjoy this short relic of the past.

P.S.  Yes, I worked at a place that still played records On-Air, and our commercials were recorded on to 8 track cassettes.  “Digital” was still in it’s infancy.

 

Silently I sit on a broken stool, in a puke green shag carpeted corner.  I hesitate while the stench of stale cigarettes pervades the room.

The addicted man behind the other door, lights a new one, once again.

I am burning out as he hungrily inhales his Cancer.

Music.  Good time oldies are playing and melting together as sweepers play in between every two songs.

Dan Rather will soon give his daily report.

The phone rings at just the wrong moment, yet the lady at the control board opens a sandwich bag full of fresh slices of orange.  She drips juice down her chin, and my stomach growls.

There is a consistent whir of reel to reel carts playing KRAE commercials.

The lady eating oranges says it is my turn to play.

Art, insight, Writing

Titus

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In the autumn of my domesticity, he waddled his tubby body into my yard.  Closely followed behind, came his parents.  I was able to easily see the origins of his over weight form.

Titus, despite his size was only four years old.  His clothes were meant for a husky seven year old.  Clearly a product of a fast food generation.

He came sweetly to me.  A precious and sensitive child oaf.  Chubby and gregarious, fascinated by dinosaurs and dump trucks.

Blonde tubby towhead, bright blue eyes and smile that could power a lighthouse.  Titus could be king at charming adults when his mood was right.  At other times, however, Titus was very irritable.  These brash swings in temperament could be linked to a constant consumption of sugar and processed foods.

Solid attitudes toward health were far from priority for this family of three, living in a 500 square foot converted garage.   Despite their eating habits, the house was well maintained and clean, cluttered only with Titus’ growing collection of happy meal toys  and matchbox cars.

Reflections of the emotional stress of Titus’ parents is evident in his overall physicality.  Pounds of fat to protect this child from his mothers need to constantly be drinking. A sensitive attitude perpetuated by his fathers fear of homosexuality, and a need to hide behind layers of smoke.  Daily toking to detached from this unplanned life.

The only escape for Daddy is going out with friends; Mommy’s is the taste of wine on her lips, all day long.  Titus retreats into a world of Walt Disney fantasy, and dinosaur discovery.

Though this child is oafish, he is far from dim witted; remembering the names and correct pronunciations of prehistoric animals is Titus’ specialty.  At times correcting his tipsy mother as they share time playing before he goes down for his morning nap.

Titus’ mother, Sarah, is a college graduate with a degree in Literature. She is a wonderful conversationalist and a very friendly neighbor.  She would occasionally stop by and leave me and my partner at the time, little gifts and treats.   Cookies, herbs from her garden and cards of appreciation.  We would commiserate over our failing relationships.

Sarah wasn’t shy about her alcoholism.  She was well aware of it, all this despite her college education; which temporarily led to a phase of speed use that landed her in jail.  Later she became a Warden in the same institution she was once confined in.  This woman, this mother, drives while drinking as Titus sits in his car seat.

One day, while Sarah grabs the phone, as she unloads her car; she asks if I will get Titus out of his seat.  He sees me move his mothers 64oz Super Gulp out of the way.

“Don’t drink my mommy’s juice!  It’s her juice!”  Titus declares.

I lift the lid, and take a whiff.  Mommy’s “juice” is Pink Zinfandel, most likely from the economy sized box of wine in her fridge.  I shudder at disbelief and spoke not a word about it to anyone except my tyrant boyfriend.

This added fuel to his fire, one that thrives off the faults and failures of others.  To him, these were poor, fat, unhappy boarder line white trash neighbors.  Still, neither of them knew, how harsh his criticisms were behind closed doors.

Titus’ father is as domesticated an Oregonian redneck can get.  Rather than hang out with his “old lady” and kid, Sy would usually be out fishing; golfing, drinking at the bar, or clam baking in his tool shed.  This is the life of discontent fathers  in the land of suburbia.

The whole neighborhood had a veil over it, so it seemed to me.  No one was happy with their lives, but they would attempt to keep their yards looking nice.  If you ever got the opportunity to be invited in, the discontent was palpable.  Sadly, I had no room to judge because everything was falling apart on my own end.

 

Art, insight, Writing

An Open Letter To All the People Who Wonder Why I Shy Away From Intimacy

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Dear Loved Ones,  those I continually shy away from emotionally and physically.  To those I have run away from, and have run away from me;

I apologize that at times I can’t seem to escape the nauseating feeling that builds in me when I come into contact with physical intimacy; whether it be between parents and children or lovers and friends.  I find it hard to watch; to stomach the outward affection people are able to show toward one another.  I don’t quite understand it, but I crave it.

I find myself caught in a steady state of loneliness, confusion and hopelessness, that I will never be able to “feel” and express “feeling” like others seem so comfortable doing.  Something in my second nature has atrophied.  Will I ever be able to truly share and savor those aspects of emotional camaraderie, that should come with love and intimacy?  The seemingly one thing, keeping me chained to isolation caught in stagnant aspects of my emotional world.

I often cringe away from physical touch, as a completely unconscious response; I find myself jump in surprise when touched affectionately.  I find this to be upsetting for both parties.  This leaves me further feeling untouchable, misunderstood and lonelier, still.

This is not a matter of not wanting to be touched at all, but rather, I do remember that I like to be touched.  The ability to be touched starts in my brain.  I don’t just go around touching people, and people certainly don’t just go around touching me.  I have spent more of my life being untouched, than touched.   I don’t have normal daily excretions of Oxytocin.  I get a good hug in, every few months.  Seasonal hugging.  In my mind, I think, if I could just surrender, then I know I would want to be held forever.  But, for some reason that cognitive dissonance sets in and I can not surrender.

Everyone knows about the wall around my heart, and some even believe that they themselves, are enough to beat it down.  No one wants to break it down together, and I am not just going to give hammers out, willy-nilly, with out at least being able to supervise the progress.

The ability for me to start to surrender,will always be, when I feel a foundation of trust. I need to know that I won’t be left to the wolves again, by this obvious distraction that exists within my brain spaces.  I don’t need extra isolation, I can provide that plenty on my own.  I don’t need harsh emotional critics, I have that covered as well.

I would be happy enough with compassion and understanding.

 

 

Photography courtesy of Pat Kight.

 

 

 

Art, insight, Writing

Contimplations on Flow- Sacred Water

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angel

Contimplations on Flow- Sacred Water.

I am re-sharing this older piece of writing because we need to pay attention to our water… it is our life force.

Art, insight, Writing

Invisible Immaculant

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If I can just sort of spiritually brag for a minute… my life has been filled with amazing, beautiful, poetic, and ironically humorous synchronistic guide posts.

Yours probably has been too, but maybe you have been too busy questioning the latest mind numbing activities to allow your brain to make those connections… I don’t know. I am not you.

I can only say that I have observed that effect on humanity, and it has kept a large portion of people in a saddened arrested development which really can be hard to reverse once it has reached it’s later stages.

I am going to go out on a limb here and say that I have noticed these things occur with frequency and consistency through out my life. I do not say this to seem better than anyone else, but rather to call the attention of those who may feel that is my “tone,” to hear me out and understand why you are so quick to cast judgment on me, if you are.

If you deny yourself the potential of this reality by making excuses for why you have not experienced it and why it can not exist, maybe you should look at that first.

The only thing which limits your potential is yourself, and by denying the potential existence of something beyond your scope, limits you directly from consciously and voluntarily participating in a process of self expansion from many levels.

You can take that in any form large or small, super size or miniscule, and realize this Truth by how hard it may cut you on the inside.

Now, noticed I said ” consciously and voluntarily participating” , there is a reason for this.

These guideposts, I have had in my life, have told me a few things.

They are doing the same for you, but maybe you are not paying attention and listening… they come in various forms.

Main themes for me are preparation for the emotional output of others whether positive or negative. This has led to my self preservation as well as knowing if I am on the “right” or “wrong” path.

People who constantly fall on hard times in their life often times are not seeing the signs given to them, in their own personal code. Things like blame; hate, fear, anger and excuses get in the way, of what otherwise could be a really rad physical experience.

Those roadblocks of emotion can bog us down, and with prolonged exposure they fog our vision toward all the things which are pointing us in our own personal golden direction.

I don’t want to give you some fluffy “BE HAPPY ALL THE TIME” bull shit. It isn’t like that… It is far more real and gritty… and let’s face it; pretty obvious if you give the idea any credit.

I figure, I like to know what’s going on, and I like to have info and facts… well why turn down an extra tool which pretty much makes life less stressful? And the only proof I need is in my own personal experience and the positive outcomes.

Let us also face the fact that potentials are endless… what if you married someone else, what if you dropped out of high school… what if you had that baby, what if?

I almost feel like self sedation is just a way of self prevention. It doesn’t seem to hurt the ability of a person, to exacerbate their already arrested developments.

I use to wonder about each untainted individuals “golden path”… the one they choose that is best of all the options, the path they were on before they end up here…the people they want to meet… how they want to influence the world… and then further down the plan they add the exclusions of a “choose your own adventure.” So a person can have their Spiritual Ideal, but there are a lot of paths and potentials in this world with some free will… so who will we actually choose to meet out of all those Souls we know? And is this why so many people feel separate from their “people,” or why so many feel incongruous from themselves as they have mindlessly milled about in a sedated state?

Where would my golden path have taken me… had things been slightly different? I don’t really care but for the sake of curiosity; and yet I feel so perfect in how it has all played out thus far. I have seen purpose in all of it, and the connections for me are undeniable.

I wrote this story, no doubt. I know all the lines like the back of my hand… and when I see things in my reality, or I hear things in my heart and mind I go with it… and it has not failed.

I am not wealthy in money because I choose not to be… but I never starve, I always have shelter, and IT IS NOT A STRUGGLE to acquire those simple things honestly!

It’s divine like Mary Poppins, when the winds change, it shows me where to go.

And I am not ashamed of how I live my life, because people trust me with the care of their most precious earthly things…animals, children, homes, gardens… and since I have few precious earthly things, I can fully love and give to that which is entrusted with me… and no one has had a large complaint yet.

I am missed when I leave, and life changes for everyone with new light in their eyes, knowing now new things.

I value life and personality. I enjoy silence and laughter in equal part. When I am alone, I am very happy and very content… because I feel you all so strongly, that at times it is overwhelming.

It may always seem I am writing about me… to me… but mostly, it is for you. It is the words you have not yet found and put together like the puzzle pieces of experience which is the blessed benefit of living. It may be the context which makes you stumble at the ability to comprehensively explain your own similar circumstance.

I can’t write a book because the story is not finished yet… and this is why we have the Akashic Record and it’s keepers.

I can’t perform a symphony alone. And luckily I don’t have to… It’s like we have all had the sheet music and we have been performing alone at home mostly. A few practices here and there… to get accustomed to our parts… But now it is feeling like opening night… and everything is aligned in the most brilliant way.

We have been practicing a piece of music which has never been performed publicly before to the scale in which it is about to be performed.

It is curtain call.

insight, Politics, Writing

Observant of these changes- January 29, 2010

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I haven’t written in a while as I feel thrown into the waves of chaotic energy that seem to permeate this socio-economic state. We see the struggle from sea to polluted sea. But there is hope beneath the waters and above the clouds. Still we hunger for something other than this mother of turmoil boiling around us.
Natural disasters, personal failures, and realizations of a need to change ourselves because our government doesn’t seem to have the functional consciousness to do it for us. We waited to have a president who used “Change” as slogan bribing voters that one man could change it all for us, if we were to choose him. We have done just that; only to see that the bigger wheel is already turning. He is just a cog in a bigger machine full of other cogs and the votes tallied to bring him into office have no real baring on the decisions he will make, or the laws he will pass once in charge.
You see, some one IS in charge of him. A whole panel of people are in charge of him, and we have been led to believe that it is US, the American People. However, it is not to us that he answers. If it was would anti-abortion be an issue so long after Roe vs. Wade? Would we have the fear of possible imprisonment for not having health coverage? Would our countries leader really have given international immunity to Interpol International Police force?
The enslavement of American citizens has gone on long enough, and yet you can look forward to more incidents to occur causing fear and keeping us further enslaved. They don’t want you to think for yourself, they want you to be motivated to make decisions out of fear.
I am not afraid. I am not alone. And the uprising of the new Evolution says we can no longer revolve around this old paradigm. Somethings gotta break, and somethings gotta give. Which will you be? Breaking down to fear, or Giving the world light and real hope in a time when things look too dark.
We are not the sum and total of our government, but we should be in an ideal symbiosis; which is the government for the people, thereby the people supporting the government. It’s time to take it back and give that bitch a makeover.
My suggestion: Get some real women in there to clean house, cause the momma’s are coming home, and if momma ain’t happy, ain’t no one happy. And who cares about you more than anyone else? Usually Momma and Grandmomma. I like the idea of a future wherein not only do I get great effective low cost or free health care, but I also get a hug and a hot bowl of the best chicken noodle this generation has ever tasted. Take it from me Fuck the Revolution, let’s be the New Evolution.

 

1/29/2017 Update:  Here we are SEVEN YEARS later… and?  Different party, same ole problems.