Clown

There was a clown in my dream. Hi, my name is Gil. Can you hear me now? Put on quite the show. Ah, yes. The world tour. The world as I knew it. McRand’s jolly old sphere of wow, look at all the places. Hillary, dillery, hickory, dickery, oh, such trickery, what’s up, Doc? The male ran around the block. A few times. Just to be heard. Just to know what to say. Just to be polite. To make a long story short. Then…………Pop, went his weasel.

They quit listening. Just as you found your voice, they quit listening. Now, hear this. Now hear this.

Vampires cut you a new opening. Opened you up right where you crave. Vampires, Witches, Warlocks, and more. Magick in all shapes and sizes. Yowsa, Yowsa, Yowsa. Presto Lunch…….get the point? Get the points? So many points. She heard you cream. She heard you scream. Surely a mistake. Is this what I ordered? I thought I ordered the pizza. You wanna piece of me? That piece of me?! All They are saying, is give piece a chance. Open Saysa Her. Open Sesame. Sesame Street. Sesame seeds. Hot cross buns. Pussy doing well?

Jolted awake. Pulled back to the news. Kicking not. Screaming not. Whimpering soft and lower and lower. Victory? Weapons of mass destruction? Bushed? Junior mint maker. Bank banker. Naysayer. King layer. Like father? Like son? Make room for Daddies way. Clueless leaders of rag tag armies. A boy trying to bring home the bacon. Trying to fry it up. Play it like pan. Flutes and Chutes and Ladders to nowhere going up the down staircase. Born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. Well played. Surprise, Surprise, Gomer…they don’t like you. They don’t know you. If they did, they would like you less. If you did, maybe you would change. Likely not. In the comfort zone. The place of no resistance. The place of many secrets that attracts the how do we keep what we have and get more of what they have before they get a clue about how much we have crowd. Such good boys becoming such good mensch. Don’t mention it. Don’t mention the unmenshable.

Your best was not good enough. Hand me down this. Hand over that. Nice and easy.

Keep your hands away from your gun. Inside the ride……all of you. We’re watching. Everything you do. We know your Achilles heel and it is right between your legs. We will kick you in your one eye if you make a wrong move. Failure smack. Sugar snack. Coco Krispied. Doing great? Greeeeeaaaaaattttttt. Put a little sugar on those and you won’t know the difference. Nana. Neener. Nanny-Nanny, Boo-Boo. Stick your head in…….oh, no you don’t. Close but no cigar. Not even that one. No peaking. Peeking out from under the blanket like that. Tsk, Tsk. Look, Ma, no hands. No mouth. No touchy, no feely. No ticky, no shirty. Wanted to go there. Be there. Be gone. Out damn spot! Look at spot run. So much for dick and maryjane. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.

This pizza is taking too long. These pretzels are making me thirsty. Woody Allen. Woody Woodpecker. Ah, that laugh. That laugh. Their laugh. Reassures then reassures again. Re-Reassures. Doe, Ray, and Me and Jack Swift and his Electric Grandmother.

Too much wash for the machine. The agitated will agitate. Just don’t overload the machine. You will break it. You will have to….it almost broke you and you know its weakness. You are its weakness. As least you used to be. The clueless led by the weak hiding behind walls with your head up your ass while you filled your pockets and they picked the pockets of the world. Alle Alle outside. Neither Fish nor Black Rock Foul. Time for another dream? Don’t worry, sleep is easier once you surrender and realize how hard you worked.

Who don’t know the pairing?
They don’t know the pairing.

She don’t know the pairing.

The mirror tells more than the TV. Even the widest screen. Don’t be afraid to scream. No one can hear you scream in space. This space available. That space available. Man, have I got a deal for you. You came first, she came after, and you know hers was better. Keeping all that inside. Keeping all that inside where it shines out her eyes and doesn’t stain the sheets. Is that a road in the mirror? Can you fall right in? Can you ease on down that road?

Down the road and into the inkwell.

Clown.

Clown.

Down you go.

Clown.

Clown.

There was a clown in my dreams. Each one of them. Three ring circus, band on the run, and x marks the spot. See, Spot run. Run, Spot, Run. The Clowns will get you if you don’t watch out. Run, Spot, Run.

Silly spot. What a clown. There was a clown in my dreams. There always is. After all, they are my dreams. The world loves a clown.

Quotation Marks

“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” (Jesus Christ). I found His words so powerful and insightful. Reassuring. Helped me see the human and understand more about the divinity in each of us. Walked more briskly having fed on the manna that was those words from that mouth.

“Don’t put words in My mouth.” (Jesus Christ.) That changed things. Who am I to put words in His mouth? Who is anyone? What did He really say versus what somebody said He said? Are the words His words or reports of reports of allegations and hopes? “Don’t put words in My mouth.” Wow. That would be cool if we didn’t. It would be cool if we just accepted your words are your words and my words are my words. I believe in Jesus. The reports of His death have been greatly exaggerated. Putting words in His mouth is bad juju, metaphysically speaking. I like the bumper sticker “Jesus, Please protect me from Your followers.” Those aren’t His words. Those are somebody else’s. I like them though. So I will make them mine. That’s how it works. The words are always somebody else’s right up until they are ours. Our truth. Our choice. The things we believe, live, practice, and more. Words are like that.

Positivity. Just a word? Not for me. Ha! Ain’t that a hoot? “Not for me.” That ain’t positive so don’t quote me on that. Hell, don’t quote me on anything. Take what you want and just say it yourself. If you believe it. If you don’t, how can you be positive? I believe it. Absolutely, positively. I believe it. Believe in inclusion….just like Jesus did and Buddha did and Allah did and the Elders, youngers, and in between did and do. The ones I believe. Crossovers, bendovers, hot cross buns, and making bunny ears just cause it makes me think of my magical niece and she makes me think of my daughter and then my other daughter and even my son and my dad and Mom and whoever the heck else touched me. Lots of touching. Lots of loving. Lots of living. Screwing up but learning from the screaming and gnashing of teeth that is holy shit, what did I do this time?

Yep, living. The reports of my death have been……well, pretty much ignored. I can live with that though. Christ knows I have to cause…..well, because only I know the truth. You can quote me on that….as long as you believe it.

Imbolc 4

Trust is blind and that requires courage as well as in-sight. Those of herd will find themselves moving forward without little if any sight of what is ahead. Yet you are to plow ahead with faith in the Source. Being of Tribe and herd is key but being of Source is more important for Source drives All.

Yule reminded you to be giving and to carry Yule forth in all you do. Imbolc will blossom a sense of trust and in-sight in the Source and that you are linked to it. To journey where you have not been and move in blindness as you do is not for the faint of heart. The Source will guide you but the direction is of your choosing. Choose well.

Storms

Storms close eyes to hindsight. All the wouldas, couldas, and shouldas fall into nothingness as you batten down the hatches and hope the hell you did enough to survive. Storms are really cool. They reduce us. Break us from thinking we are kings and queens and jams our omnipotent pawny asses into the storm cellars praying to that Higher Power we thought we were last Tuesday.

Does this mean we will miss Johnny’s recital? Well, duh. What about the big sale? Well they might still have that…….if the store is still there…if we can get there……if we have anything left to buy anything with………come to think of it, fuck the big sale. The couch might need replacing and might look better against the other wall……let’s just put the fire out and hope the goddamn wall is still there. Storms have that effect.

Metaphorical, categorically, category One through we are gonna need a bigger boat, has anyone seen my boat? Turn into the wind, dammit. We ain’t gonna outrun this thing. Turn into the wind, Gilligan. Great….Gilligan the Storm Tropper. Just great. Where are Ahab, Nemo, Posiden, Wonder Womyn, and Jumping Jack Flash when we need them?

Light the torches, send out the bat signal, duck and cover, don’t use the elevators, and bring a change of clothing…..this is gonna take a while. It’s a twisted twister of brew-ha-ha…..hardy fucking har-har. Looks like a fine mess we gotten ourselves into, Stanley. Stanley? Like Stanley and Livingston? Didn’t he play Ernie on My Three Sons? Or was that Chip? No more bets, please. Storm’s a coming.

Shit storms, dust storms, dust bowls, empty bowls, put on bowling shoes, any shoes, and let’s shuffle off to anyplace but here. Shuffle, shake, rattle, and roll. Smoke 'em if you got 'em, too late to quit now if you haven’t so put another nail in the coffin, the shit smell from your pants will mask the ashtray stink. Looks like we are in for Stormy weather and it ain’t just whistling the wind of change in Dixie. It is Max, Jake, Abdul, Abdul’s long lost brother, and everybody on the 6:15 to White Plains. Everybody in White Plains and any planes for that matter. Wouldn’t want to be up in the air right now. Need to be well grounded when things come home to roost. Cock-a-doodle-doo, Yippie-Ki-Ey, and see you on the other side.

Did I set the alarm? Maybe I need to check. Make Rumi for Daddy. It’s snuggling time.

Moon Kiss

Yesterday is closer than tomorrow.

Far away is right at your side.

Calm amidst all the Chaos.

Alive is proof you’ve not died.

Her fullness is three days behind you.

The penetrations opened you wide.

More comes so get used to it, honey.

Your screams came in with the tide.

See Me?

I am still that person.

Believing, trusting, knowing, clueless.

Still there.

In eyes used inside out for decades.

See me?

It’s more me.

It’s still me.

Even more so.

Still there.

The man outside the boy.

The boy inside the man.

I saw me coming.

Here I am.

Can you see me?

Can you see you?

I see you.

As long as you are still there.

I see you.

If I don’t see you, I miss you.

I hope you see you.

See me.

See you.

See you soon.

Seeing is believing.

I am still that person.

Believe what you see.

See me?

Day Trip

Went away yesterday. A day trip. A few hours actually. Felt like a day. A week. A cruise amazing and forever and over before I knew it. A place of trust. Where I was free to disappear. To be on the other side of human and know it was needed as well as right. To be inside the decadence and depravity and smile because it is so damn sweet. To be all those things and be more me because I am of and in and about and over and up and with those things. Positioned deep into my own propositions, suppositions, imaginings, fantasies, fears, and oh hell yeahs.

Sanctuary is there. Inside of me. That place in the brochures, wanderlusts, wishes, hopes, nightmares, and dreams. Many places. Many wishes. Many wonderings…….right inside of me. The place I look for……and then wonder why I left. Dorothy! Dorothy! Come home, little one. Come home before the storm. There’s no place like home, Dorothy! Come home.

Home. Never leave home without it. Home sweet home. Maybe on the mountaintop. Come to me, mountaintop. Alle, Alle, in free. Come on in. It is time to eat. Let me taste what is on that side of the plunger as I open to my truth and inject my soul with the highest lows and lowest highs. Sublime, subordinate, submissive, subhuman, subspecies, submarine, subsoldier,….submit. To yourself. For yourself. Because you need to be there so you can be gone for a while. Gone from it all. So far away the world does not understand. Only you know. Only you understand. Only you feel. It is all about you…….and you are nothing.

How was your Saturday? How was your yesterday? It snowed today. I’m down with that. Shoveled. Twice. It is covered over again. I’m down with that. The world moves right along….and I can shovel the snow, watch the snow, play in the snow….whatever. Sundays are cool. Especially when Saturdays matter. Of course, Saturdays are cool too and related to our Fridays. Et Cetera. See? I even spelled it out. Latin, ain’t it? Greek to many. Yesterday was awesome, today is awesome, tomorrow will be too. My choice. I trust my choices. Life’s a trip. I send you a few postcards along the way.

Yin Yanging Away

The sun kissed the night away with the gentle brush of morning’s breath. Mothers loved through the fear of what ifs as their children stepped into their lives. The quiet spoke to the seekers that listened. The noise silenced the questions for those that hated to hear. Conquering the pain of growth pleased me again as light moved to dark and dark enlighten. I slowed down to realize how fast I traveled and thought the short trip took much longer than it did. I reached for my son who sat across the table from me and touched my father who died almost three decades ago. In class today, I learned about teaching and taught about learning. In being touched, I was healed more and in touching, I was healed even more than that. I closed my eyes to see better. Each day I touch the Feminine in me makes me a better male. The less I understand the more I know as truth. The more I give, the more I have. The less things are about me, the more complete my joy. The louder they spoke, the less they were heard. My yesterdays were honored today and tomorrow arrived all the better. I used all I was to be all I am and I am more than I was because I did. Someone asked why I was so joyous and I answered the question with a question of if why really matter. Pausing to analyze joy freeze frames the roller coaster for the riders so those in line can decide if they want to ride. Someone reached to me because they were strong enough to admit they were feeling weak.

Yin Yang is life. The ultimate balancing act. The taste of being in balance and the quest to return to balance when we move from it. Everyone lives Yin-Yang…even those that don’t understand it. They live it each they then reach for food when they are hungry and drink when they are thirsty. Sleep calls when we are tired and we move for comfort when pain pays a visit. Our existence is about balance. Our planetary struggle is about balance. Each of us is part of the whole. When we take more than we need, we are the cancer of imbalance that eats away at the ecosystem that is this realm. Balance is essential for life. Balance is the state of continued motion. Out of balance is the call for change. Out of balance too long and things die. Yin Yang is the natural state of balance in all things…and is a state we taste and then hunger for when we move from it.

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)

There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)

And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)

There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)

And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to build up,a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)

There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)

And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time of love, a time of hate

A time of war, a time of peace

A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)

There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)

And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose

A time to rend, a time to sew

A time for love, a time for hate

A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

(Adapted by the Book Of Ecclesiastes, music by Pete Seeger, taken to the top of the pop charts by The Byrds.)

Imbolc 3

Imbolc is your wake up call. A wake up call to action. Feel the urgency pushing forth in you and act on that urgency. The urgency will foster many things but two will overwhelm the others. Questions will surface and you must be open to the answers. The other thing that will cry to you with insistence is the need to act. Talking and thinking are not over but they will never again be enough. The questions are linked to the actions needed for once you address the questions, you will be driven to action.

Honor Yule and the beauty of it but hesitate no longer. Imbolc blossoms in you.

Death

(From a series "Reports from the Frontal Lobe")

Let’s get this outta way now. We are gonna die. You. Me. All of us. No one gets outta here alive. We are gonna die. It’s a coming for you. The Grim Reaper. Contrary to any thing you may have heard, or hoped, death does not take a holiday. It sure does take a lot of our time before it gets here though.

Seems we are obsessed with death while we are alive. We are handed images of heaven, then the Ten Commandments, and assorted other things in fine print of biblical proportion. Kinda of a “here is what comes next and you damn well better be ready all the time or you can gonna hate being you forever and day or so without any time off.”

Death is a part of life. Making it too big a part kinda wastes the living part of stuff. Death is a cliff we will all walk right off because it is the next step on our path from where we come from to where we go. It is there. We will walk off that cliff. Some folks spend way too much time looking for the cliff. They walk tentative and easy and in fear as if a misstep moves the cliff closer. As if they will see the cliff and have time to kinda pause and say, “hmmm……maybe I will just go back a ways and come back to the cliff later.”

Well, boys and girls, that ain’t how it works. You walk off the cliff and you are gone. At least from here. You are back to where we were before Mommy and Daddy trip their own light fantastic and made magic that grew up and can read big books now.

The cliff is kinda known though. We all hope it is our right to move off the cliff in old age while sleeping after celebrating tons and tons of birthday parties. Secretly, we all believe the other folks will get the cliff while we wish them well and get on with our lives. Young folks run and dance and sing like the cliff is just a rumor. Old folks realize the cliff is real and likely even real close and start looking backwards at where they were. The cliff ain’t back there so it feels safe and warm there. Doesn’t work though. The cliff shows up between bites of Tapioca and they don’t have to worry about when anymore.

Death is big business. People do their best to buy longevity. It does kinda help since we can bring the cliff closer with stupid choices. That is an acceptance of the cliff that means eat, drink, and worry life to nothingness and the cliff sees you are excited about it and lets you jump off way early.

I learned about death in a lots of places. Not by experience yet but I will handle that when it comes. As a kid, death was something for old folks. There was a kid in fifth grade that died and that was sad but seemed kinda unreal. His name was Tommy and he was a good kid. Then he died. I knew there was some important message there. I also knew it was not me and that was enough at the time.

One time, my buddy’s Dad died. That seemed harder and more real for me. My buddy and I were just kids. He was a kid. I was a kid. We each had a Mom and a Dad. Then one day, he didn’t have a Dad. I was supposed to go the funeral parlor and do something. Not because anyone told me. Just because I knew you were supposed to do that like my parents did when people died and stuff. I didn’t go though. It kinda creeped me out so I just didn’t go. Could have but didn’t.

A week or so later, my buddy came by the house and we sat on the front stoop. We didn’t say much to each other. Sometimes are like that. You don’t have to talk to know how the other guy feels. Only, I don’t think my buddy knew how I felt.

He didn’t know I felt guilty and weird and sorry for him and wished I had gone to the funeral home and knew what to say and had done the right thing and helped him and his Mom and his sisters and his brother and told his Dad’s body I was sorry and stuff. He didn’t know any of that cause he couldn’t feel me. My buddy was in a place where all he felt was hurt and alone and confused and shitty.

We didn’t say much. We just sat. That was enough. My buddy missed his Dad. Death is like that for the people on this side of their own cliff.

Death is sickly kind in the way it enters our lives. At first, it is hardly even mentioned. Although it is the one thing after birth that links us all, we are shielded from it for many years when we are children. Then, as our understanding of life increases, it begins to appear. Sporatically, so we can learn of it in bite sized chunks. From a human perspective, it begins small. Almost innocent. Goldfish. Perhaps a hamster. The family cat or dog. Remember how that felt? Aw, gee, why did Tippy have to die? That kinda sucks, Mom. Can I have another Twinkie, please?

Then it comes in smaller, although distant, forms. A Grandparent. Another Grandparent. Maybe an Aunt or an Uncle. It might even be a Teacher or a Neighbor. It kinda pops in to say, “Hey, remember me? Just wanted to let you know I am still here. Enjoy High School.”

In High School it arrives again. More impact this time. Usually involving two of our favorite forbidden fruits, cars and booze. Might be cars and drugs but that is pretty much the same thing. Actually, the very same thing but let’s save that for later.

Someone we knew from Gym class or home room dies. It is tragic. Sometimes it is grizzly. A beer bottle threw the heart. A beautiful head found somewhere other than attached to the budding body. This death stays in our life longer. It is talked about at each party for months to come. Parents use it to remind us how lucky we are it is not us. School usually has a special assembly. Most tout out the worst safety movies ever made with a State Trooper visiting hospital beds, graveyards, junk yards, and maybe even morgues. We are fed the reminders of death to ensure we live well. At least that is the premise.

Usually backfires though. Gives a pretty a damn good excuse to party while you can when you are fueled by hormones and when the hell am I gonna get laid concerns.

I remember the grizzly accident that claimed four young lives in my home town. I really believed the bit about the beer bottle and the severed head for a long time. Right up until I realized it really didn’t matter if that part was true. Four people died and they died too young and they would not have died if they made other choices. Of course, at the time, I was sorry for them, glad it wasn’t me, and buckled down for Algebra finals and the Homecoming Dance.

There was one girl I met in ninth grade whose death touched me in ways that made me question things in much deeper ways. We went to the same school for one year and one year only. Ninth Grade. Thompson Junior High School in Middletown, New Jersey. Her name was Denise.

It was not that Denise and I were close. We had a few of the same classes and enjoyed joking around and stuff. We did not date. We were not an item. She came from Middletown and I was bussed in from Keansburg since Keansburg High School was under construction and would be completed the following year. Keansburg and Middletown were different. A lot different. Just the way it was.

So Denise and I liked each other and lived very separate lives when we were not together in a few classes and school gatherings. I thought she was sweet and cute and a lot more. She was a really good kid.

In my Ninth Grade yearbook, she wrote a full page note to me. I still have it to this day. It stunned me. I really mattered to her. The note felt special. It reminded me how much we can mean to someone even when we might think we are just a friend or acquaintance. I read the note a lot. Part of me, the boy part, wondered how the heck I could have been so clueless. Why hadn’t I asked her out? That sort of thing.

Another part pf me was happy. Happy I could be that important to someone so sweet and nice. The note became a secret treasure.

Denise died two years later. I heard about it a few weeks after it actually happened. I didn’t get many specifics and didn’t ask. Dead is dead once all is said and done. The news saddened me in a deep…morose kinda way. It was like I lost her and never really had her. It made me see how much more she should have tasted and lived and enjoyed. It made me wish I had talked to her and known her more. It made me realize that she was more of a factor in my life than I suspected. She let me know I touched her life more than I knew and that made her touch my life more than she knew. More than she would ever know it turned out. She shared and that linked us. As I share this with you I realize that Denise and I are still linked. She is still that girl that I knew a bit then and appreciated a lot more later. She is special and cute and went off that cliff way too soon.

So death sneaks in to make sure we do feel it looming. It visits a friend or two and then we enter the adult world and death becomes daily news as strangers explode in the sky and loose all their air miles. War turns death to a number right up until someone dials ours to let us know that another friend from High School now has their name etched in marble at government expense.

Imbolc 2

The fields to be plowed and farmed are wide and long. The herd moves forward in full trust that the efforts will yield the sweetest fruits and the most glorious grain. The labors will be from sun up to sun down and sometimes even by the light of the moon. The beasts move forth will all resolve day after day after day after day. Over the next hill are more fields moved to Tribe and herd. Virgin lands provided for the harvest that comes.

Imbolc 1

The sun returns in this special time. Refreshed and ready for the vital work ahead. This is a new sun as sure as Tribe and herd are new and will be new again when the wheel moves to this time in the cycles ahead and all cycles to come. This is the Power of Yule that changes the energy of the Source itself. The purity of Yule and all of Yule charges the core of all things and those of the Yule move to Imbolc ready for tremendous joy and amazing progress.

Imbolc is to growth as Yule is to purpose. The flow of purpose feeds this new beginning. Lash forth with resolve for you are well prepared for the labors ahead. Be of Yule, feel the old swept away, light your brightest lights to show the dawn that is now. Imbolc is of the new you. Let the joyous labors begin.

Lamb Chop

Lamb Chop came out of the closet today. I saw her there behind legos, Elmo, two keyboards that unfortunately still work, a really annoying chicken that dances the really annoying chicken dance, a bunch of books, two flutes without volume control, and several other things the Grandkids enjoy too much for my todays but not enough for my tomorrows. Something said take her out so I did. Kinda sorry she was stuffed there in the first place. Felt kinda disrespectful. Lamb Chop deserves better.

Over fifty years since she first spoke to me with her insufferably cute voice, Lamb Chop still makes me smile. Quirky, fun, smarter than she let on and less innocent than she pretended, the little white cutey was easy to love. The very feel of her reminds me how to smile spontaneously.

As a kid, Lamb Chop was Lamb Chop. Kids see the magic of ventriloquists easier and deeper than adults do. Kids see the life of the character. They see cartoons, puppets, and toys as real. I did. I remember that I did and honor it. Howdy Doody wasn’t just a puppet. Howdy Doody was Howdy Doody. Kids believe what they see because they trust rather than question. Kids don’t care what is behind the curtain. Kids enjoy the show.

Lamb Chop was Lamb Chop but Lamb Chop was more than Lamb Chop too. Lamb Chop had a side kick. Howdy Doody had Buffalo Bob Smith. Lamb Chop had Shari Lewis. Ah, Shari Lewis. I had a crush on Shari Lewis. Shari Lewis….the pretty lady that held Lamb Chop whenever Lamb Chop talked. I felt things about her that I did not understand then and that are even sweeter now.

Shari Lewis was cute and quirky and easy to love. Seeing Lamb Chop reminds me of her. Shari was the energy of innocence. Her innocence was Lamb Chop’s life force and she shared that innocence with me back then and even now….over a decade after she died. Her voice is still felt. I felt it this morning because of a Lamp Chop stuffed animal stashed in a closet.

That stuffed animal is in my office now. I like smiling when I see it. The feel of innocence is a good thing. Shari Lewis was a nice lady. She made a lot of people happy. She looked healthy and happy and lovable from the first time she appeared on Captain Kangaroo (yep…..that was where Shari first showed us Lamb Chop) to when she closed the curtain on her live performances. Having Lamb Chop in my office is right on so many levels. Innocence needs to be honored…not stuffed away in a closet.

As I penned this, my wife walked in and saw Lamb Chop on the desk. She instantly smiled. A warm smile from a place where her kid still lives. She asked about the stuffed animal and then ruffled the stuff animal’s cotton balled head. “Hi, Lamby.”

Enough said.

How Does SOURCE Communicate with you?

“How does the SOURCE communicate with you?” Someone emailed and asked me that question.

Wow. What a thought provoking question. Well…..the same way anyone’s higher power communicates with them. I hear SOURCE in the silence. Nature is the message of connection of all things and my quest to be part of the balance of it all. Sometimes I hear SOURCE through others. They say things and I hear the inspiration of something that is beyond them. Each of us is linked to SOURCE so each of us feels it and speaks it at times in our actions and our choices. I hear it in and through others.

As a writer, I put my words on paper and share them. Sometimes those words are clearly mine and all about me. Most times in fact. That is why I work to write in the positive and about inclusion for that is my path and those are my choices to what is right. My words are my truth and what I say about anything and anyone is actually about me. I do my best to honor my Higher Power in my words yet read them with the same caution I do anyone’s…….the words are more about the speaker than the topic for we speak them.

Yet at times, I feel SOURCE move me as a writer. I speak from a place that is beyond me. Knowing things I did not know I knew. Speaking of experiences I did not live but that read as sure as if I did. Those times are humbling. Even scary. Those are times when I am out of the way…….and realize the words are not mine…….yet pushed through me. One of the clues for me is when I read the words and realize they are new to me. The words read like they are someone else’s. That is when I pay closer attention. Kinda ironic in that I pay closer attention to my words when I first suspect they are not mine.

Then I realized that I pay closer attention to other’s communication when I suspect it not their communication. I love when I hear SOURCE through others. When words come from a place beyond them. I drink in the messages and celebrate the SOURCE moving through them. It helps me realize that sometimes SOURCE moves through me in the same way.

There are times I write things and wonder “what the heck?” I look at the words and see them as not mine. Then I look at them and the message eludes. I wonder why I bothered writing them. Wonder if they are to be shared or if they even matter. Sometimes they just sit. Other times the words almost demand to be shared so I share them. That is usually when the words are most powerful. Someone reaches back and says, “wow…thank you. I needed exactly that message at exactly this moment. Wow.” I chuckle a bit and realize I was just a message boy. The message was beyond me. Did not know what it was and do not have to know what it was. I just have to deliver it when it says to be delivered.

“How does SOURCE communicate with you?” Anyway it wants, anytime it wants, and every time I need……..as long as I listen. Just like it does for any and all of us. Thanks for asking.

Yule shifts to Imbolc

Yule shifts to Imbolc and this is the most telling of times. This Yule must be the one that you do not box away. This Yule has been the Yule of resolve in that this is the Yule that you will carry forth and live each day. Belief. Giving. Purpose. Hope. Joy. This is the Yule of unconditional love and total trust. This Yule is not ending for that is the problem that this Yule has addressed and solved for you. Yule is no longer a time but a thing. A thing of the sweetest joy and the most promising hope. This is the Yule that opens you to your true purpose in all things.

Imbolc is Action. Actions driven but what Yule is. More that symbols or platitudes. Truths and Beliefs. Executed now in Imbolc and the seasons that cycle to the next Yule which will be even sweeter. Breathe in deep and fill all of you and move to tomorrow and beyond with strength and connection. Tribe and herd grow and this will continue to be the case for the gift of Yule begins to truly give. To all of you and all like you.