Tag Archives: poetry

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

Personal Inner Experience # 3: Why Is Love So Rough? or What is Love?

The topic of Love keeps falling into my lap.  I had to sit down and talk about my personal inner perceptions and insights.

Thank you to my friend Alessandro Muresu who continues to inspire my heart to explore what Love means.

The backdrop of music is Alessandro’s creation, I would love for you to check it out and a just sit with it to let your own inner voice navigate the terrain.  I promise it is worth it and priceless.

https://alemuresu.wordpress.com/2019/01/12/rare-and-united-lp2019-e-on-line/

 

Interwoven

Renaissance (n.)

“great period of revival of classical-based art and learning in Europe that began in the fourteenth century,” 1840, from French renaissance des lettres, from Old French renaissance, literally “rebirth,” usually in a spiritual sense, from renastre “grow anew” (of plants), “be reborn” (Modern French renaître), from Vulgar Latin *renascere, from Latin renasci “be born again, rise again, reappear, be renewed,” from re- “again” (see re-) + nasci “be born” (Old Latin gnasci, from PIE root *gene- “give birth, beget”).An earlier term for it was revival of learning (1785). In general usage, with a lower-case r-, “a revival” of anything that has long been in decay or disuse (especially of learning, literature, art), it is attested from 1872. Renaissance man is first recorded 1906.

 

I like the parts of this etymology that says “grow anew” or to be “born again” , “reappear.”I like it because it is true, time is not linear and more and more these days we are allowed to reconnect with deep soul kin… essentially elongating our interaction through these different wave lengths and time lines.

I am living this now and I want to share some of it with you.  Obviously my series about My Best Friend(‘s Journey)  is some of the amazing proof of this reality.

My creativity is expressed in many ways: these blogs, the journals, the scraps, the paintings, the music and the spoken word I can’t contain.  So much content with context.

I wanted to create a post with all the links to the music up to now because my creative collaborator Alessandro Muresu is some sort of vibration soul mate born on another continent.   He is precious to me because he brings out the best in what I struggle with in experiment AND his passion bleeds through his work, for whatever reason he also found me a compatible collaborator and what happens through sound files is soothing for us both.  Feeling old and familiar, but new and extraordinary.

I shall not build it up too much more.

Preface-  All of these sound qualities have a drone, which is the specialty of Ale.  I am the chaos that interferes but can also create soothing.  Ale brings all of the balance in composition.  My success’ are accidental.  I am sloppy but focused. I have no idea what I am doing, but I love manipulating sound.  My voice is a tool to those ends.  These are posted from earliest to most recent.  I invite you to listen to the evolution of it over all and to visit the rest of Alessandro’s Archive of Wonder.

If you don’t want to listen to all of them, pick one for now out of what you are drawn to.  It’s probably the right one for you in the moment.

Listen to Yourself

FTC Part 1

 

FTC Part 2

Squeaky Floor

Save

Ode (To Us)

173 Part 1

173 Part 2

173 Part 3

173 part 4

177

Karibu

Recording 21

Rudiments

Recording 15

 

*Credits to my late Grandfather Edward Lee Chapman for the heading photo in this post.  He really had an eye for light and shadow.

 

 

 

 

 

The Coronation.

For what felt like life times, she wept. Almost swept away by her own tears.

The crowd finally dispersed, confused.

The coronation was like none they had seen before.

Her tears were not in vain.

They were unsure of their newfound power; intimidated of themselves for the first time.

It was an awkward spectacle at first, until each one found their rhythm.

Tonight her tears were not the sobbing sort of times past.

When They realized She saw Them, they were again pulled into the rhythm and beat of their inherent hearts harmonic nature.

Suddenly all the colors became more vivid- an unexpected additive to such unfolding.

For the first time she felt willing to dance, and in that moment for the first time asked.

Each knowing the strength of their own thread in this divine tapestry.

It was a lovely pattern they chose to weave.

 

 

Everything Leading to the Apex

The vibration of the soul, and the blood combined brings forth our flesh, in this spiritual contract we manifest in form, the features of history within us.

It’s true that they are attempting to kill off certain bloodlines.  To suppress certain peoples.  Those peoples feel the Truth in their own life blood.  It’s required that they meet a certain range in vibration in order to be activated.

There are many yet to activated and they are being drawn in various directions in order to harvest the life force they have left while being blind to their own brilliance.

In actuality the frequency and vibration is killing off those who seek to kill off the “Natural Light.”

This is where we meet the trans-human agenda.  The desire for clones and all around trans-formative manipulation geared toward infinite longevity.

Those of Natural Light in Creation know the Truth.  It was contract as such.  We don’t need modern technology to utilize it, once we remember it exists.

The best thing technology gave us, was the ability to reconnect instantly.  The result is an archive of shared remembrance.  If this medium goes away, know that your heart has an internal voice that needs no words to speak.  You have internal eyes that see beyond your dreams.  You have a gut that brings awareness to things that are amiss.

We are already full operating systems that have to remember how to get back to the home feed- alone. That is Heaven, or Infinity.   The journey is singular at your own pace until it isn’t.

If you have been feeling something is amiss; it has been.  If you feel a strange shift; it’s shifting.  If you feel a calling for Higher Truth; follow it.

end of transmission

#SimplePoem

I’d trade in all this tobacco for a wide green pasture planted with plants that meet my pleasure.

I’d cast off this cyber connection if it led to the lesson of real interconnection.

I know I can go to the earth and immerse, but while I am human I love to converse,

plants are quite peaceful and abundant in knowing, I know that us humans continue to grow and I want to be a little water.

I want to redirect the sun.

I want to speak sweetly as the seed has just begun to grow.

I want to show what I know with a peaceful hand.

I’d trade all these advertisements for one real conversation about something that doesn’t rely on superficial reactions

So, I will keep sewing, quietly toiling while minds keep wandering to pointless places

I have a love, I wouldn’t trade, no matter time or day

Take it or leave it, I haven’t put an expiration date on it… but that doesn’t mean that it has a shelf life beyond me.

I don’t work in guarantees.

I offer what I can, while I can, relinquishing my hold on what I think I am

I work for Creation, because in lonely days that is the singular satisfaction I find to encompass everything we blind ourselves toward.

Focus on the seeds of being that are ready to burst free with life and living.

 

 

Love Letter

The magnetic specter of our dance is gratifying in its own way.  The ebbs and flows, the way it goes carving-marking along the way. Deeper than ditches run, farther than a tumble weed could tumble, we fade into each other and the landscape.

When time is timeless what does time mean?  Perhaps a momentary infinity of you and me on this hypothetical horizon, watching the shades fade from hue to hue. Darkened silhouettes along the terrain, enveloped in some other domain existent but far between.

Specks in the dust, they say

Each meaningful and yet inconsequential in their own way

Working the wheel.

Beating the drum.

Reading the same script, over and over again

“You play this role, and I will play that.”

Expectations, at times hum-drum because you know you’ve played and acted these roles before, whether hero or villain you are familiar with the score.

Dum-ditty-dum-ditty-dum-Dum-ditty-Dum

The pipers come piping, the drummers do drum. The hamsters keeps spinning,  song after song.

So what?  In mixture of this intoxication in our physical being- how can we sequester such meaning? I cop it up to hormones, emotions and feeling. Avoiding the meaning it plays on some higher reality. You have yet to play the lover or the beloved.

The world at my fingertips, hair on end as I keep feeling this world, again and again.

I can be the gyroscope, and if you can hold a steady plane. Let me spin inside your skin until our souls touch.  In some perfect balance of day and night, taking flight to higher heights than either has ever known. Sew yourself within me- carefully.

Together we can be stronger than before, a united front of protection in this mundane place of normality. We would be allowed to dream bigger dreams. See ourselves as champions.

I can share with you my secrets of the cosmos- my ever evolving mind.  This heart holds divine space for you, there has always been a place for you in the core of my cerebellum, telling me to move muscles and sinew forward until the crux of time and space collide.  The horizon simplified, no longer lingering in hypothetical realms or parallel dimensions.

Our compartmentalization of feeling somehow becoming null and void?

Not under my watch.