Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I just read it again for the first time. If I read it before, I guess I just didn’t get it before. Maybe I really didn’t read it before. Read it and get it now. Like that he was looking for himself. Got that he was so distanced from who he was that he was his own ghost. Oh yeah, boys and girls, I get that. Liked that he just kept peeling things back. Back to the why and then that why and on and on. He cruised wherever while staying right in his own soul. He went everywhere and smelt his own shit everywhere he went.

The very reading of the book was different this time. It oozed. Went slow as heck. Like an everlasting gobstopper of a story that I digested a few pages here and a few more there. Took a long time to read it and didn’t really care. Guess that means I didn’t take a long time. Didn’t take a short time. Took the right time. Meandered as he did. Sometimes pausing to think. Sometimes not thinking at all. Touching it and not even reading it at times. Then the last few days, the pace accelerated. No destination. No goal. No deadlines. Just felt right to read and read some more and read some more.

The book is only a day behind me. Yet it feels like I had to read it now and question back then. Back when I could have done even more with the message. Back before I lived the message before I really even understood or heard the message. Made me ask myself things. About who I was back when I was that guy on the start of this whole thing. Was I that young? That naïve? That sure? I felt that and did not go to regret or what ifs. Just felt it. Saw it as sorta of a contemporary how to. A Hippie Walden. A search for self that has us face our past and accept our now. All part of the rewiring. All part of who I am now. Thoreau knew. There to be seen in a borrowed cabin where he owned his truth. Whitman knew. There in verse after verse of leaves. Rand knew. There where they wondered who John Galt was. Quinn knew. There in the cage with a really smart Primate. This book knew. There to be seen.

Made me wonder. Where have all the Flower Children gone? Did I read this book back when it and me were newer and just not get it? Did I not read it? Was it too much for me to handle? Was it too far out of my box? It was a best seller. It is a cult classic of sorts. Lots of people read it. Who got it? Who did anything about it? Interesting to see old answers there for the taking.

I am glad I read it now. Makes it a bit easier to be me today. I don’t have a motorcycle. Likely won’t. I am where I need to be and travel the roads of my soul wherever I am. Zen is cool. Soul Maintenance is the art I master a bit more every day. This book was a good tune up. Maybe I am running pretty well right now. Feels good. Vrooooom. Vroooom. Beep, beep. Pedal to the Metal. Vrooooom. Vroooom.

Ostara 35

There is power in print. Be bold enough to write your thoughts and then read them days after. In the reading days or even months or year after is the reality of what you thought. Was it a passing trend? Was it raw emotion? Was it pure and long term? Written things have substance even when what was written about does not.

Words are powerful. Put them in print and that power can be permanent. Be cautious though for words cut deeply and those words in print can be devastating.

Things in print take on form. Plans in print are plans while plans not in print are dreams. Emotions of love in looks sweeten time together. Words of love in print scream of commitment.

Be brave enough to print. Be wise enough to know when not to.

Ostara 34

Change is often painful. This is true in all things but especially in change of self. Yet when the person faces their own demons and emerges victorious over them, the rewards fully justify the pain of the metamorphosis.

See those who did so and you see the heroes. Slaying their own demons lights their eyes. There is a peace in that victory that fuels even more victories. Especially if they slay their biggest monster. Then the little ones head for the unknown for fear of what they would face inside the new host. There are mental, spiritual, and physical changes of self that not just reward the victor but armor the hero for the days ahead.

Helping turn victim to victor is not just right it is essential. They deserve it as well as need it. Sadly, the sadder path is also the easier one and we not just avoid the demons but feed them with sympathy and excuses.

Change is often painful. Not to change though is sometimes deadly.

Ostara 33

Answers will not always be easy but the questions must still be asked. Avoiding the questions only delays the inevitable and the problems escalate. Address issues and face difficulty soon for time does not heal festering things, it exacerbates them.

When looking for those answers, go to the place inside yourself where fairness reigns. Bypass the emotions related to the issue for they will not just taint the answer but will contaminate the evaluation. There is strength is looking the issue in the eye and accepting the answer you know is right. Delay will not change right answers. It will generate false ones though. Alternatives not to the problem but to the solution. Alternatives that will merely mean address the same problem repetitively.

Delay is weakness. Haste is foolish. Trust in self is always right. Be kind. Be fair. Be understanding. Be strong at the same time and it separates you from the fools.

Rising Legend

“We need you now.” I want to believe that is how it started. Choose to believe that is how it started. “We need you now.” Want to believe that a stranger said those words from a rolled down car window in traffic and the words were heard. Heard by a man from New Jersey who writes from his soul and then sings from there, too. “We need you now.”

It is my choice to have those words of truth pierce the artist as well as the man. It is my own legend to have him hear and feel and ponder. Ponder why people he never met mentioned him in eulogies for other people he never met. Ponder why he meant so much to people who died so suddenly in ways that broke his heart and shattered his reality. Ponder his grief and their grief as it somehow became our grief. Ponder until it gnawed through his shock, penetrated his anger, pressed his fears to the side, and enflamed his passion. A passion he needed to understand, then harness, and then share. So he did.

He called and asked the ones that knew them who they were. They knew who he was, after he explained he really was who he was, and they shared. He drank of their sadness and shared their load for a nanosecond that felt too short. He spoke of it. Dreamt of it. Paced the riverside with it. Sat on the dock with it. Hugged his guitar with it. Reached for his pen while still inside it. Afraid it would be too much. Afraid it would be too little. Afraid to do nothing. Afraid to do anything. Afraid he was going to miss the mark and they would have died for nothing. They were gone. He was here. “We need you now.” He cried and asked himself who the fuck he was. He answered that question in the only way he could. He was just a guy from Jersey that sings and people listen to him. He was just like those people….nobody until somebody notices. So he wrote.

Wrote some new stuff cause it was there inside of him and needed to be born. Revisited some old stuff. One he thought he wrote about one place but that written for right now. So he sang that one and felt the life in it all over. Reached for one by Sam Cooke that felt light and sad at the same time. About a place people went to feel good. God knew they needed to remember those places still existed. He reached for some of his older stuff and realized he was right about them. They were more than he knew at the time. They were needed now. The more he looked, the more he found. As he looked, he had a vision of the Album that he needed to record.

Soon, he was brave enough to speak of these things with others. They got it right away. They got it with tears and silence and what the hell are we waiting for moments. They reached for their instruments and began to heal.

“We need you now.” One sentence that inspired Bruce Springsteen and resulted in “The Rising”. It started in pain and was delivered in agony and sadness and more. It shined and healed in the very birthing. It was right. It was his best. “We need you now.” It was what he needed to do. It was his way of dealing with it, honoring them, and remembering he had to do his part. So he did. Legends are like that.

Ostara 32

Be quiet once in a while. If quiet too often, speak fruitfully at times. Listening is an art most can describe but few can actually achieve. Ask someone to describe it. If they explain much at all, they get it not.

Silence offers answers. Contemplation of things mundane often provides simple replies to complex queries. Meditate. Reflect. Be peaceful unto self and that peace will carry forward to others. Master yourself. Therein lays true power.

Let silence be a treat to the ears. Smell what is around while you listen. See what is in view as you reflect. Touch the inner you by keeping your hands to yourself and your mouth quiet. Let you be you. The mirror of life can show much when we cloud it not with verbiage. Shhhhh is such a lovely sound. At least, it can begin the truest of sounds. The sounds of silence.

My Prayer

This is my body.

This is my blood.

This is my soul.

These are my words.

Share them freely for in the sharing I live forever.

If you wish to know me, I am here and always shall be.

Forever and ever. Amen.

Ostara 31

Seasonal change should affect you. Question it not but embrace it. Sounds in spring carry further. You hear not better but act as if you do. Sounds are back. Prescriptions for hearing as birdsong returns. Owls seen only in sound. Nests gathered one twig at a time as we see. Outside beckons. Answer the call.

Things that kept you in now seem to drain. There is energy in the air that urges action and that action needs resolution. Walk when you would have sat. Laugh when you would have been inside alone. Smile at the sun when it would have been elsewhere at that time. Smell grass that slept under a blanket of snow and now awakens with freshness of nature.

This season urges youthful things. Regardless of physical age. Indulge but honor the years upon you. Cartwheel into summer and slide into fall. It is seasonal change calling.

Ostara 30

Expectations change. Routine should vary now and then if for no other reason than to validate that routine is right. Be willing to see if daily things should be daily things. Be willing to alter your routes to see if efficient is not bypassing beautiful. This is how you stop and appreciate the norm. It is the same reasons vacations are eagerly anticipated and happily over.

There is so much comfort in places, people, and things that we sometimes miss them. The mountains seem to fade. The sea’s surf is drowned by radio. Smiling eyes are unseen from the daydream of mundane. We just forget to look at times and we are blinder than if we could not see in truth.

Enjoy what is and what is always. Savor what is normal for you but would be treat for another. All in perspective. All in thanks. All in joy.

Cousin Dickey

I woke up this morning on the other side of something. Felt nice to have whatever that was behind me finally and what ever is headed this way in motion. Thought about my dead cousin, Elvis, a compass, and some other stuff then did what I obviously needed to do. Shook things up.

Radical nothingness from a place of calm cluelessness. Did something that used to be last, first; didn’t even do something that is usually first; bobbed when I normally weaved on the walk; saw flowers where there used to be grass; took some summer stuff from the back to the front; stowed some winter stuff where the summer stuff used to be; and fed these worlds to whoever will gobble them up before having what will likely be breakfast for lunch. Just another day is the life of “Who is the guy and what did he did with the Gil we used to know?” Realized all I have and how to give it even more thanks to all of that.

Thanks to lessons learned from Teachers of life disguised as parents, Elvis Presley, and Cousin Dickey, not to be confused with Cousin Brucie. Cousin Brucie was the voice of WABC Radio, 77 on your dial, right from NYC and into my youth with all the hits that used to be hits, are the hits, and will always be the hits long after Murray K said here’s the Beatles and the Fab Four said Hello Goodbye then stayed forever. Cousin Brucie is still around and still looks like Cousin Brucie. (That is creepy like most clowns are creepy). Cousin Dickey died quite a few years ago. He taught me a lot of lessons while he lived.

Cousin Dickey mattered. He lived life like he knew something. He did know something and I just begin to know that something about me and understand that he knew it about him all along. He knew he mattered. He knew it was alright to have. To have peace and answers that you just knew even when you couldn’t explain how you knew. To have the call to taste life on fishing boats and oil rigs and still understand others lived other lives in other ways. To have a light in your eyes when you were with other people, just because you were with them. To have the knowledge that we are here now and tomorrow is a crap shoot at best. To have people that love you, sometimes get you, often don’t get you, and that love you all the while. Cousin Dickey lived a lesson in life many just don’t learn. We have to know what we have to be all that we can be. We have to look for what we have where it feels right and do things that are right for us because those things feel right for us. We have to find ourselves before we can really be anything to anyone else. Cousin Dickey mattered. He mattered because he celebrated all he had and all he had to give because of all he had.

The first lesson of life is understanding what we have. We must be taught that we were put here for a reason, that reason is important, and it is alright to be happy to be alive. My Teachers taught me that. They pushed me back inside myself for answers about gifts, how to know them, and then how to hone them. My Teachers came in all shapes and sizes. They still do. The first lesson is the lesson of life that we must continue to learn all along the path of life. We must learn to have. We have all we need to have and what we have improves the more we work at it. What we have gets better and better as we do what we must do to really understand what we have. (By George, I think I have it. Now, if I were a Rich Man….Opps, bad form to mix musicals in writings.)

Then we can learn the second lesson of life. How to give. Sometimes folks get stuck on the first lesson…how to have. Sometimes have gets stuck at have to. We have something and it becomes a chore. A thing we have to do. A thing we have to take care of. A thing we are stuck with. We begin to have to do things. We forget ourselves because we have to do what others want. What others think we should. What others said would be best for us. What others will approve of. What just have to. Then we begin to long. To miss. To long for ourselves. To miss ourselves. To wonder why others have and we don’t. Why others are lucky and blessed and……..holy shit, what a load of crap. It drains even typing self pity. Self pity is not something I have and not something I ever want to have. Some of my best Teachers taught me that….by example, good and bad. I learned and celebrate what I have.

When we know what we have, we can give. Just give. It is easy to give cause what we have blossoms by the bushel basketful. We focus on what we have, what we have multiplies, and we give it away. Give it because that is why we are here. To learn what we have, hone what we have, and give away what we have. The winner at the end of this journey will have given away almost all they had…..and still leave behind tons that matter.

Cousin Dickey left behind a lot. He left behind enough inspiration to span decades, shine from the beyond, penetrate the granite like cluelessness that is my soul, and make me even happier with what I have. Good Teachers are like that. They came, They had, They gave. They conquered. To have is to live. To give is to live. Cousin Dickey lives. I am glad he touched my life and still does.

Ostara 29

The pace of change will scare some and invigorate others. Therein are the clues for those balanced of the earth and the spirit. Questions of doubt reveal the naysayers. Questions of how show the hopeful. Merely listen and be drawn to the gathering of kindred. Together, the answers flow not just to meet the pace but accelerate it.

As the significance of the changes become more apparent, some will choose to hide. To revert. To deny. This is just what will be. Fear not and move with those that act.

This energy abounds and it is yours. Linking you. Connecting you. One of the Collective Consciousnesses. There is no isolation anymore, anywhere. A wave of energy connects all and therein lays the hope. All can be reached. All can be helped. Not that all will be reached or helped but all can. Do what you can with what you have for it will be enough. Together, Soon.

Compass

COMPASS

Use your compass to map your life.

Maps speak of routes available and already marked by others.

Maps show you where you are and where existing roads may take you.

Compasses are about direction.

Your True North is your light.

Know it and let it shine your way.

SOUTH

Face there first for the Ancients Ones and Ascended Masters send Magic and Hope to all from that place where warmth rings this realm. Open to them and remember that you are here for a reason and part of all that was and all that will be.

WEST

Turn there to feel the calling to explore. Feel that place where the sun sets and the moon lights the darkness each time it returns. Honor your explorations with the confidence that all the Magic that was is yours and you are one that honors your gifts. Go forth knowing your needs will be met and share so all are honored with your presence.

NORTH

Look there. Feel the seasons. Sense the winds of change. Know dark moves to light and cold to warmth again and again for balance is indeed the very cycle of life.

EAST

Feel your past and the rubble that remains. Carry forth the best that was while honoring each thing that has been. Everything happened for a reason and made you who are. Choose what is yours from then and shoulder it forth to be all that you were meant to be.

BELOW

Prostrate. Know that we all serve each other and each thing we do is connected to every other thing that is done, has been done, and will be done. Feel Mother Earth and open to your place on Her and Her place in All things.

ABOVE

Raise your arms in celebration and surrender to the wonders of the Cosmos. Feel the wonder and vastness of it all. Speak the words “As Above, So Below”. Balance your totality with your nothingness. This is your time, your place, and your joy.

SOLITARY TRAVELER

You enter this realm as a Solitary Traveler.

You move from it alone…leaving all that is here forever changed by your visit.

As you travel from the beginning to that return to where you came from, you are here to find your true light.

Alone.

Use the Compass to find your path. You alone know the right way. In that Solitary journey, you will find your light. A light you increase by sharing it.

Be you. Your best is good enough. Then you are wonderful company for those drawn to your light. Enjoy the warmth of their light and remain on your path just as they must remain on theirs. We are all Solitary travelers….on the path from there to back there and we here for as long as we intended to be. We grow together. We find our own lights and light the world in our gathering.

Ostara 28

Be willing to test yourself. Link to those that challenge your abilities. Those who test you. Not in the way to question or degrade you. In the way that stretches you. In all your abilities, be like the athlete. Train and hone your skills. Alone and with others. Then test those skills against those that challenge you to use them to full capacity. Do not choose that who do not challenge you for, if so, you will not get stronger. You will merely think yourself great as you win against challenges that are easily overcome by your abilities.

This is not easy. You are not sure if you are challenging yourself until you fail. Then you know you must hone the skills even more and try again. Then again you may fail and hone even further. When you do succeed, you will know you have improved. Then you move to the next level and do it again.

Those that find the niche and stay, begin to die. Comfortably. Happily. They begin to fade. Into what they once were instead of what they can be. There is time for that. Later. Now use your skills and be happy when you do. This is not about work. It is about skills on all levels. Most relate it to work. They relate it to every level of existence.

Ostara 27

Change in a routine can foster more change or reinforce the sweetness of the routine. Be willing to see both avenues while on the path of change. Routine offers much hope in that it can be process and enhance efficiency. Routine can also be comfort in the maelstrom of flux in the universe. Routine can nurture as well as invigorate.

Routine can also stymie. Eyes seeing the same things all the time convert those things to background. Notices that are common are barely heard as predictability overcomes sensory input. Touch loses its feeling when we hold things all the time. It is like that with all things and all senses. We stop seeing. We cease to appreciate. We take for granted.

Change can break that routine. Suddenly, the daily comforts are enjoyed again. Perhaps they are questioned. Either outcome is right. Either outcome makes us better. Change the routine now and then to validate it or eliminate it.

Ostara 26

See the opportunity in all things. There is nothing that is coincidence. There are no accidents. Things happen for a reason each and every time. That is the message that is not only often not heard but often not believed. Not seeing the opportunity changes opportunity as well as attitude.

There will be bad weather, machines will malfunction, humans will error in haste as well as intention, and nature will lash out. Some see these things and wallow in helplessness. Some see them and move to right them. The wisest see them and move to right them and also see the opportunity therein.

The unexpected storm can mean reviewing photographs rather than taking pictures as planned. Malfunctioning machines offer the chance to review their viability as well as importance. Human error offers insights as well as shots at forgiveness. Nature’s fury can link mankind in action and resolve.

See this in all things, the little and the big. It is the difference between those that live lives of quiet desperation and beings that soar with hope, faith, and trust in the Almighty.

Unknowing

I am deeper into my unknowing. On strike against what I was. Monkeys don’t need metaphors. As a primate of some order in what used to the chaos of my own creation, metaphors smell a bit different. Perhaps it’s all the bullshit I used to buy and eat and work to have more off. It oozes from my pores and stinks up my metaphors. The world reeks of it right now. My world. This brave new world where I am a stranger in a strange land just off the map of all I knew. New smells. The decay of the old stinks and the decomposition is fertile. Something blossoms as the flash bulbs flash forward through what I pictured as truth. Flowers smell better once we stop flinging bullshit in our own backyard. I am on strike against my own bullshit.

The strike is really easy. Question everything. Slow as all get out but it works for me. Question everything. Everything I did, knew, learned, and lived. Question everything that ever was. Question everything I do. Each turn of the key each time I even sit behind the wheel of the last of my herd of noble chariot beasts. Must I drive? What’s the cost? Where did all this come from? Why not walk? Why not just not go? Why today? What’s it all about, Alfie? Was Alfie really Mad? Did Alfie really look like that freaky guy on the wall of the Palace in Asbury Park all those years ago? Do I need to drive. What drives me to drive? What drove me to drink? What feeds my soul? What pops my cork? What drives me to even think I am in the driver’s seat or even have to be? Maybe writing about Alfie is more important than whatever I am about to do when I turn this key. Maybe? Why not? Why not now? If not now, when? Now. Now, now. There, There. There will wait. I am here now. Hear, hear. Hear me roar. What’s it all about, Alfie? I don’t know. I am unknowing and that is what it is all about.

Back away from the key slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them. Place them on the keyboard nice and slow. That’s it. Now talk. Talk. Don’t make me shine the light in your face. That is so 40s. So Avant guard. So new wave. So yesterday. Yesterday. Remember yesterday? Where were you between the time you first went to work and yesterday? Where were you? We have witnesses. Stand here and answer the following questions. We know who you are. We know what you did. What were you thinking?

What was I thinking? In the unknowing, I begin to understand what I did, what I was thinking, and what I am going to do about it. Right now, I am not going to do anything about it. I am just going to let it come. It will come when it is due. It will come when it is past due. Past due might be just right. Right on time. A stitch in time saves nine. A stitch ahead of time might be just the right thing. Just the right recipe. Just what the Doctor ordered. What’s up, Doc? Take two of your own pills and don’t call me in the morning. One pill makes you want them. Two pills makes you dumb. The one that Alice gives you, ain’t on the menu at all. So ask Alice if you wonder. Don’t ask me. I don’t know. This ain’t on schedule. It comes when it is time. It will be here when it is time. If I have to do time, I will do time. Time in on my side. Yes, it is. Time waits for no man. I wait for no man. I am on strike. Don’t wait for me. Don’t try to keep up. Don’t ask me. I don’t know. I just unknow right now and I unknow a lot more every day. That is the key to unknowing.

So I don’t turn that key, keep my finger off the button, and get ready to strike. To strike it rich because of my unknowing. Rich beyond anything that money can buy. Money can’t buy happiness. Want to know why? Cause happiness is free. Free as a bird. Naked and free and yours for the taking. Actually, it is yours for the having and for the giving. Money can’t buy happiness cause happiness can’t be sold. So I ain’t buying that bullshit any more. I am on strike. That much I know.

M Path

On the outside of insights.

Sensed to know something important.

Feeling the truth despite all the guises.

Trusted, tested, then filled from behind.

Tainted springs poison the weak.

Rather than do, they choose to repeat.

A weeding this way comes.

A weeding this way comes.

Spinning in circles, they bite off their tails.

A weeding this way comes.

Ostara 25

Every act, no matter how little, generates change. The impact of everyday actions ripples as sure as the rock ripples the water when it hits. Simple acts of kindness to those who serve and toil becomes a flash of warmth and appreciation. Quiet actions to provide something to one who needs it becomes the proof of faith in the good of all. Words of appreciation about everyday support recharge sometimes weary spirits.

Do these things every day. To all that deserve. Make it not platitude or rote. Look in the eyes, say the name, and give them thanks. Silently place items needed so they may be found by the needy. Stand not and show of your generosity for that defiles it.

These acts begat more acts and that begets even more. Know that your daily kindness moves tenfold and there is your Power and your reach. See the others who do this as well and comment for that increases it tenfold again. That is the change that spans time and space.

Ostara 24

There is joy in connection with kindred. These strings links are essential to reenergize and fuel the passion for action and life. Friendships are good and necessary since socialization is vital. Solitary is only good in small doses. Work relationships are tepid at best and all parties treat it as such…transitory interchanges with unchosen companions. Little more than travelers on the same conveyance even on the longest of trips. These are fine but Kindred are Kindred and barriers drop and communication moves to purity as trust soars.

Find this connection crossing many plains and things not just merge but balance beautifully. Compartments disappear and work is play, play is growth, growth is daily, and energy is everywhere. Grasp this chance. Grapple it to thy soul with hoops of steel.

Ostara 23

Balance requires telling distractions from opportunities. There will be mistakes. Good intentions bestowed well can still be taken and discarded. Love can have tolerance beyond what should be granted. Pleasant and intense forays into seemingly correct changes can delay. Pace can threaten balance as things shift and it takes trust to act versus remain.

Routine comforts and habits ease but close the door to opportunity. Routine is the beginning of rut. Yet change that is constant drains even the strongest and soon progress falls victim to collapse. Balance can be achieved. Listening is the key. Discard words of weakness and whining. Embrace words of concern that seek solution versus justifications.

Followers want clear directions but would delay until all is defined. Rulers use leaders who act on insight and trust rather than stubbornness or greed. Rule well. Choose your leaders wisely. Reassure followers but move faster than they want for they will celebrate at journey’s end along with all. If you rule, rule with love and Power but clearly rule. If not, follow those you trust. It will be less than smooth sometimes but, when balanced, will succeed.

Rain Man

They ensured I was up just before the first lightening flash. The flash surprised me. The rumble confirmed it was real. Raindrops came. Big ones. Pounds. Rat-tat-tats. Drew me to the windows. Upstairs. Me and the night and the once quiet world. The storm came quick and sure. It let me know more followed. The announcement that I would be inside. Would be writing. Would be reporting. Did I quit looking before it left or did I just head to the keyboard? Wait. The rain is still out there. The first two pieces are shared. This one is embryonic. It is raining more. Writing less and feeling more feels right.

I woke up in love. Loved. Loving this. Loving you. Loving all of it. Especially the rain. Especially having no place to go and all the time in the world to get there. Over the bills. Under the radar. Right now. Right now is enough. Right now it is raining and the world has to adjust. Has to roll up the windows and get to work and be inconvenienced. Has to miss out on this moment.

I am braver at 3 AM. Always have been. Now I am braver more and more. Three AM is even more important now. I AM at 3 AM. I am what I am. I am what I am for real now. The old Three AM is me. The new 3 AM me is almost me. Three AM. Three AM. Three AM. Beetlejuicy. Juicy Fruity. Root Toot Tooty. Here I am at Three AM. Popeye. Rain Man. Dustin off. Robin eggs huddled in nests. Wings hearing the knock knock knocking at the door as raindrops keep falling overhead. Its Three AM and I am here. Lightning up the skies. Lightning up the load. Cinching up the harness. Toting the barge. Bailing the hay. Hey, Hey, Hey. We are the Monkees. Monkey man. Monkey Man. Monkey shines his light on me. Its past a quarter to three and I am the only one in the joint and now you see. You see what you get cause I am what I am. Rainy days and Mondays and Karen died to soon, Richy is a lot different, and that one Carpenter really nailed it. I am braver at 3 AM, have friends in places I have never been, and settle in for the storm.

It is just rain now. The rumble is away. Saying remember me. Touching that other slave in that other away. Waking that other one that finds peace at Three AM and lets the rain ease inside hard, or soft, or easy. Spreads wide, thrives, dies, survive. Resurrected again and again. Rained on, in, over, through, to, towards, under, up and with. The one hand dances quicker than the other. The other hangs on to 3 AM long after 3 AM kissed me awake. Prepped me for usage. Filled me with words and the bravery to speak them. To show them. To live them. To let them whoosh from up there to down here through there and out across time and space. It’s reigning men. Its about time. It is about space. Imogene Coco was a lot funnier than pretty. She was what she was. I am what I am. Especially at Three AM. Especially when it rains. Good morning, Sunshine. Rise and Shine. Here I am to start your day. Mighty Mouth roared in the middle of the night, split some infinitives, talked about Jesus and Buddha and that guy from laugh in who creeped me out. What’s the Buzz? I tell you what’s happening.

Peace Full

The ocean in my head is calm.

Waves kiss the beach with silence that is music to my ears.

I dance to soulful songs in solitude.

Trip the light fantastic with feet that move no more.

Peace eases from a new place.

Shining brightest where there was only dark.

Cheshire grins begin in the eyes.

Imperfect risings gleaned in simple contentment.

Ostara 22

Learn even from the mistakes. No one is flawless and each must err for it is human. Misjudge. Mistake. Omit. Commit. Moments of weakness. It all happens. Even to the strongest and the purest. Do not be overly hard on yourself but do learn and change. It is not mistakes that are the error. It is repeating the mistakes that is an grave misstep. Break the habit if the habit is wrong. Control the emotion if the emotion is destructive. Overcome the vice if in the grip of evil.

Humans are, after all, human. Help yourself and then help others who may struggle. The best defense for minimizing mistakes is balance. Balance of the earthly and the spiritual. Link the two in every day actions and mistakes are fewer. Each act links to earthly needs and spiritual purpose. As it should be.

Lucky Guy

I am an incredibly lucky guy. Incredibly simple too. Simpler than I knew, slower than I realized, and surprisingly salvageable. Daily self diagnostics are getting easier….at least for me. Those around me everyday probably feel just the opposite. Call me the Weatherman. I am a seasonal feel of an annual flow delivered with daily doses of variability that changes every year. Maybe that is why folks kinda check the temperature to see what my day holds. They likely want to use a rectal thermometer…and wish those gauges came in bigger sizes. Lots bigger. I can live with that. I can be a pretty big asshole.

Being known as an asshole is a lot easier than being one and not knowing it. Would hate to be one and not even know it. We need assholes. We are all assholes at sometime or another. Those that think they are not assholes are full of shit. I can be a really big asshole. That’s cause I can take a lot of shit. Maybe it is because I can give a lot of shit. Who knows? Who knows if we are coming or going? Not me. So I try to figure shit out each day and be a little less of an asshole. Not sure it is working but it feels pretty good.

Changed my diet once I figured out where the food came from and what I was eating without really understanding. That helped my asshole-ness, at least on the inside. Took longer to digest things. Big things like the world, the environment, and spirituality. That slowed down a lot of bad shit for me. Backed away from consumerism. That helped the intestinal fortitude for my body and my soul. Cleared the air about what is mine and what belongs to others and that helped my own back yard a lot. Started sharing a lot more of my stuff but did my best to ensure it was the good stuff and not the shit. Really cool cause folks give me a lot less shit now. Guess you do get what you give. I am a lucky guy.

Folks care about me. Some even love me. I see the good in the world and the good in the world is beginning to see me. They see me even though I can be a really big asshole. Maybe the further away I get, the easier I am to see. Yoo-hoo. Here I am. Way out here in left field. In this words. Way over here….a strange visitor from some other planet. Disappearing into my words and becoming truth from the inside out.

Maybe my body really is just the vessel and I am much more. Much more than an asshole walking around in the flesh. My body becomes a lot less important the more my soul realizes it was stuck in an asshole for quite a while. Sometimes my body is a temple. Other times it is an amusement park. Sometimes it is walking, talking asshole. I am more than this body. Not sure what but it is bigger than this bag of flesh.

My Sister-In-Law said I did not have to worry about what to do with my body when I die. She said I would be beamed up to the Mother Ship. Cool. In due time, I guess. Some more shit to clean up here on Mother Earth. Lots of assholes can do a lot of damage without even know they are assholes. This asshole is cleaning up his own shit. Lucky I started before the Mother Ship came to get me. Don’t beam me up yet. Maybe there IS intelligent life down here. Let it begin with me. I ain’t just your average, everyday asshole any more. Lucky for me.

Ostara 21

Take time to appreciate the wonders many take for granted. Think of the many people and many things that happened to make your world as wonderful as it is. Mundane and forgotten things like mortar and brick. Who first succeeded in linking stone and mason to form walls of protection? Who first not only used fire but harnessed it for instant access for the dwellings then build with that same brick and mortar? When did they first learn to make food that was once seasonal available at any time and any whim?

There is so much around us. We look forward to things that will be and things we will have but should savor the abundance and wonder that is every day. What if there was no more? What we have would be enough and we would care for it all the more. That is peace and contentment.

Ostara 20

Just act. Sometimes it will seem that you do not know what to do. Many need distinctive and clear answers and directions prior to movement. Even the more faithful will have moments of indecision and doubt. That is the human condition. That is actually the moment for you to confirm your trust of self and purpose.

It is easy when resolve is high, purpose is clear, and answers are at hand. That is the time of productivity and joy. Actions fueling success and successes fueling more actions. Energy seems boundless and limitations few. Those times are to be savored and used.

Other times there will be some hesitation, even amongst the strongest. At those times, just move forward. The success may not be as dramatic but it will reassure. That extra step, sometimes into the unknown and often needing to be forced, confirms that path as well as the traveler. Others did not and will not make that extra step. They will not move in trust and faith. They will not succeed. These moments and these successes make you better. It is the walk in the rain when others do not. The extra row planted when others are at the table. The hour of progress while others sleep. Just act. Then just act again.

Gut Instinct

Sometimes my gut instinct does not make sense. I obey it anyway. Still have those conversations and questions and that stuff germane to obedience of things beyond our understanding. The little guy with wings on one shoulder and the little guy with horns on the other and the whisper of “Come on, it will be alright.”. Still have those inner debates that border somewhere between polite argument and out and out war. Luckily, I have been guided, cajoled, broken, controlled, directed, encouraged, inspired, monitored, ordered, nudged, force fed, slam dunked, and loved by some very wise and wonderful people over the years to be a good boy and do what is right. My wingedness usually trumps my horniness. Most of the time….more and more….enough to make me better and keep me human too. That is my story and I am sticking to it.

Still the conversations about what to do and when and why and all of that continue. Now the conversations are inside my own head, most of the time. The good guy wins because I listen to my gut instinct rather than my ego that knows exactly what to do and exactly when to do it. Otherwise, I would not have put on that CD for yesterday’s energy session.

The CD was exactly wrong. I knew the session needed a different musical energy than a regular massage one. That was the easy part. Knew that at the outset. Opened Sacred Space, selected the right incense, ensured the table and supplies were ready, and headed upstairs to find just the right sound. Something that was there…just waiting for me to know it when I saw it. Ideas sprung forth and a particular CD came to mind. My hands moved cases to find that one while my eyes looked at what shifted in the search. Each movement assured. Guided. Comforted. Then a CD surfaced and I had one of those hmmmmm’s. Didn’t remember it was there. Didn’t know I ever had it really. Yet it intrigued. It moved to my hand, then to my eyes, and into my mind. It went downhill from there, control wise. The CD was exactly wrong and I knew exactly why. There is sat though….in my hand…….staring back up at me. Taunting. Hmmmmm. The pause was deliberate. The deliberation short. My gut said take it down stairs. Give it a listen. So I did. Well trained and docile servant to the Muses of touch.

Even in the session space, it was wrong. Exactly wrong. Would result in a completely different session for the client. Yet the CD sat there. It might have chuckled but that was likely my imagination. I pondered and wondered and did all those things we do when we are guided to do something that just doesn’t make sense. Being the good boy I am, the CD stayed.

The session did not go as planned. It headed off in a direction so different that I was stunned only slightly less than the client. The CD was almost forgotten in the shift. When it was remembered, it was exactly right for the session. A session of deep and penetrating lessons that reverberates even today. A session that opened me to my truth as much, if not more, than it did the client. A win-win exchange of therapist and client that fostered trust for both in something far greater than the sum of two wholes.

My gut instinct does not make much sense sometimes. That is when it needs to be obeyed to be understood. Overriding it would mean I know better than whatever it is that put me here and wants me to do my best with all I am and all I have. Heck, I don’t know better than whatever created me and everything else that ever was, is, and ever will be. That much I understand. Thanks to my gut instinct yesterday, I understand it a bit better today.

Ostara 19

Temptation is anything that takes you away from the higher good. Sin in acting on that temptation. It is that simple.

There have been volumes written of this but the core truth is the core truth. Anything can be a temptation. Money, flesh, material goods, friends, family, community, talent, strengths, gifts, abilities, appearance, power, love, responsibility, and more. Everything can be used to connect to higher good or divert attention from it. When you connect all you do and all you have to the higher good, you are without sin. When you succumb to temptations, you are in sin.

Money can protect and serve and be used for good or it can be amassed and used for things that divert you from your natural calling. The pleasures of the flesh can link you to spirituality and love or be based on lower needs alone. All you have and all around you can enhance your calling or keep you pleasantly distracted from it. Things and abilities that are yours for the higher good can have you think you are the ends when you are really the means.

Lead us not into temptation is the right prayer for then there is not sin.