Sunday, July 21, 2013

Divine Oneness

Thank You
for
opening
me
to

YOU

there is only
surrender
&
gratitude

only
‘yes’
&
‘thank you’

as we
harbingers of
“Homo Sanctus”
recalibrate

fully
embodying
YOU

DNA        Cells        Hearts
pussy
cock
eyes

blossoming
as
  holographic
fractal
erotic
Christic
LOVE


e            t            e            r            n            a           l




[the amazing image is the brilliant, evolutionary creation of www.http://subliminalphoenix.com/  Please check them out. They are truly tapped into a greater reality.]

Surprised to realize that it's been so long between posts. That's fine...there's been so much recalibration that I haven't been in a place of articulation yet. I feel that changing, however. I feel myself tapping into new levels of my own humanness, my own divinity, that are worth exploring and sharing.

More to come...

Sunday, June 17, 2012

A Happier Father's Day


Since he died in 1980, I've tended to hold my father rather at bay...mostly. (Horace or "H.H." as he sometimes preferred) I do have a number of peak positive experiences with him and it's never been that hard to appreciate how well he took care of his family...in most respects. But my mother lived quite a bit longer, so she's been easier to feel connected to.

The older I get, however, the greater my compassion for him is...as I experience first-hand how impacted I've been by my cultural and family-of-origin conditioning and having to unravel my own blindspots and numbness over the decades. And I've had amazing support through every year of my life...gifted with such blessings.

With informed hindsight, however, it's now apparent that he did a damn good job of evolving himself (without the need for a lot of fancy workshops), thereby  providing me with an upgraded set of conditioning soil to sprout from.

I've certainly told him this a number of times when he was alive, but just to be absolutely clear from this new depth of perspective: Thank You, Dad.

Friday, June 15, 2012

The Realities of Life...and Our Tap Roots

Just as I was starting my work day, got a group email from a really good guy who I haven't had any contact with in 2 1/2 years. A man in dispair. A brother who's hurting.

Here is what I wrote him:

I appreciate your reaching out. There are no easy words to type in. My sense is that many, many are being crunched by the realities of life right now.

Much of our society, our culture, our systems, are on the verge of collapse, IMO. That's easier to look at on a collective level. It's gut wrenching on the personal. What I can say is that out of collapse come opportunities for recalibration, re-wiring, rebooting. And, in my experience, those opportunities often lead to more gratifying ways to be in the world...after we get through the blood and tears.

Breakdown carries within it the seeds of breakthrough.

What I'm also aware of is that desert plants seem to have the deepest tap roots. That's how I've survived in this world: going deeper into my inner self so that I'm less impacted by the vagaries of the external world...drawing strength from my own Core.

And from friendships and mentors and the kindness of the many amazing people in this world.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

An Meaningful Song for Men


Last weekend, I accompanied a good friend to a concert that I never would have gone to on my own: to hear/see Keb' Mo', a singer I hadn't known of before, in one of Portland's best musical venues. It was delightful: an earthy, high-energy performance by an uber-cool musician.


Anyway, was particularly struck by one of his songs--one that captures a lot of how I interpret the "divine masculine"...which, at least, expresses my feelings about the women I have/do/will care for...and my wish for us all to be "wild and free":

You don’t need no fancy tricks
Painted eyes or glossy lips

I love you just the way you are
Hope you don’t mind my beat up car

You don’t need to change your dress
You don’t need to change your shoes

Don’t try to hide your natural looks
Forget about the cover -- let me read the book

Don’t get me wrong I like them heels
But the way I feel is the way I feel

You don’t need to change your dress
You don’t need to change your shoes

Go ahead be wild and free
you don’t have to shave yo’ legs for me.

Hunnybabe, don’t starve yourself
You’re lookin good, you’re lookin well

And I’m proud to have you by my side
Glad to have you in my life

You don’t have to clean my house
You don’t have to wash my clothes

Go ahead be wild and free
Cause you don’t have to shave yo’ legs for me

You’re an angel

You don’t have to read them magazines
You already know how to get to me

Just be yourself and I will too
That’s all we really have to do

You don’t have to be ashamed
You don’t have to hide your knees

Go ahead be wild and free
You don’t have to shave yo legs for me.

Now go ahead be wild and free
You don’t have to shave yo legs for me.



[song titled "Shave Yo' Legs"]

Friday, October 14, 2011

Long, Long Ago


Have been writing a fairly autobiographical novel and took one scene straight from my current life. Here's an excerpt:

Underneath that is a potpourri of loose photos from many times and places. He ignores the temptation to browse through them and plunks them in a box on another shelf that already has a cache of photos inside. Turning around, he spots an old identification badge on the floor.

What in the world is this? he wonders. I am so young here. A photo from what feels like another lifetime looks back at him through plastic laminate.

It can't be from General Dynamics in Fort Worth, where he'd lied about his education and intentions and barely managed to get a job driving a fork lift in the heart of the military-industrial complex -- the largest freakin building he was ever inside of, working as a cog in the production of F-111 fighter planes for Vietnam -- for a few months until he saved enough money to fly back to Portland for Christmas, which somehow (miraculously) enabled him to avoid being drafted and sent to that same Vietnam (although he would have slipped across the border into British Colombia; he already had the how-to pamphlet with detailed instructions) as he navigated Peace Corps trainings post-graduate school. No, I was consciously trying to stay beneath the radar then since management was already so suspicious of me and my likely politics.

It has to be after Peace Corps and Brazil because he never wore his hair that long until he was back in the States. Finally he decides: long-term temp job, Bank of America, graveyard shift, when I added 20 pounds from vending machine pastries at 2 AM. Once he's pegged the time, he looks more deeply at the face captured here, a face that stirs a cauldron buried deep within.

Oh my god, was I really the most innocent 33 year old in all of San Francisco at that time?

Friday, September 23, 2011

Deciduous Days

I no longer yearn for an evergreen life
static in its deceptive depiction of ongoing youth

Instead, I crave a full-seasoned run
not wanting to miss the vibrant, rich colors of my own Autumn
as I distill the juices of beloved life experiences into a
penultimate expression

letting myself
be infused with the
blood reds and
butterfly yellows
of my core self

while choosing
at last
to
be
fully
seen