Samhain

Laced with mystery, Samhain straddles as many beliefs as it does dates. Some think of as three days and others less while some even more. Some think it the beginning of their year as we enter the cold and dark beyond harvest and head for the return of the light. It is a time of fire.

The community celebrated around bonfires. Some villages ensured all other fires were out and the village lit each hearth from the flames of the common bonfire for Samhain. Some had two bon fires and each villager walked between the fires to purge and purify. The herds were purged of the weak and their meats gathered to sustain the people in the winter. The remaining animals were often marched between the bonfires to purify them and link them to the villagers as well. All bound together by the common flames and each better prepared for the season to come.

Samhain is also Halloween. The seeming innocence of bobbing for apples and the dark forces flying between worlds surface at this very special time. It is one of the most powerful Sabbats and is celebrated in many ways for those open to its energy.

Mabon 19

Help those that move to place in ways they did not expect but that see now their true belonging. Ensure that as they grow in awe of you, this is seen not of you but of the SOURCE of your place and power. This is not about them just as it not about you. It is about all. All. Those that move to tribe and the many more that move to herd. A herd that forms with longing for self and melds with understanding of place.

Use thankfulness as the guide for who is in right place. Those destined to rule will do so with an amazement to be so selected for such an important responsibility. They will link to kindred for reassurance at times that this duty is executed well. Those destined to serve in herd will reach out to others in herd and those that rule for similar reassurance that their duties are sufficient to continue to earn such bliss.

Much moves now and the movement will be even more as Mabon moves to closure. The tribe and the herd expands. Expansion that will erupt and spread with the wild fire of the purest energy. The SOURCE pushes outward in all of tribe and all of herd.

Mabon 18

Solitude has its purpose. Reflection. Gathering to oneself. Time to ride your own thoughts on paths of their own. Solitude is never truly solitude for the tribe nor the herd. Once with true kindred, the connection is so permanent that the linkage is seared into the soul.

There will be times when you seek solitude and times when solitude is pushed upon you by knowing Forces or even by Forces that hope to separate. In any of these times, use the solitude for growth and even stronger connection to kindred of tribe and herd.

Solitude will be yours even in the most crowded places at times and in places of deepest isolation at others. When it is there, feel it, use it, and emerge all the better.

Mabon 17

Honor in tribe is Honor from SOURCE. Those that come to be with tribe will be of honor just as they did in their own way prior. Honor is not from tribe for honor either is or is not. Honor is from the purer place. Honor is from the SOURCE. Beings of all shapes and sizes have either tapped that prior to tribe and herd or not. Being of tribe and herd will not create Honor. Being of tribe and herd will change Honor in that Honor becomes of the common purpose and moves to broader openness and more collective understanding.

Honor is. Honor in tribe is more special since the valor is not of self but of all.

Mabon 16

Resources push forth from east to west as your Light streams forth. The Gathering begins. The Light is strong in Synergy. Beaming from the SOURCE, through you and yours, to those in longing and need as well as those already linked to the SOURCE in their own way. The SOURCE pushes and pulls to link for it is time.

Venues barely touched hear and feel you. Those of you draw to them and those drawn to those draw even more still. This is a force in motion and there is no stopping. It is stronger and grows stronger each moment.

Eyes open, even the ones shut theirs tightest. Tribe heralds forth and herd scurries forth. Those that come are often reversed of expectations. Assuming places flipped from what thought but sensed to be right and accepted with insights from the journey to rightful role in tribe and herd.

Mabon 15

See the efforts completed freely and in tribute to SOURCE. Feel the energy of acceptance as those of you bear the pain and obey without question. Taste the sincerity of the lips on the feet and the hands and any flesh. See the love and joy in the eyes that look up. Hear what is said as probes deepen and exposure completed.

This is the birthing process as the family of children of light grows. Each placed where each should be to complete the linkage of all things to all that is done and all this is, period.

Mabon 14

Look beyond the visual and truly see. The eyes feed much and can overshadow other aspects of things thought only visual. Colors. Shapes. Things in sight but only when eyes of the realm are closed and the truest eye looks forth. Chakras are muscles as well and must be exercised.

Mabon 13

Where your kindred are, so are you. The effects of Synergy are that wondrous. Once linked with those of common purpose, you are not just you. You are We. Acting in harmony and unison as if in many places at many times. When you feel the We as sure as you feel the you, tribe moves exponentially and herd runs like the wind to follow in the joy of belonging. See not with the eyes that have kept you as you. See with the new vision and see the We.

Up-Write

(Another piece from the in-work "Reports from the Frontal Lobe".) Her writing bitch-slapped me awake. She was Phillip Marlow in a skirt. I called myself a writer and saw all the pedestrian, safe shit that flowed from me lately. Enough was enough. Her poem embarrassed me into action. Shamed me into performance. That’s what words can do. The right words. Arranged so pretty and sharp. They cut. Mightier than the sword indeed. Sugar coated shit was still shit. Sure, I am storyteller. Have tons of stories. Started one the other day. A nice one. A good message one. Even wrote it a new way. Outline first. The nuns would like that. Fuck that. The nuns ain’t looking anymore. I am a writer and that doesn’t mean doing things the easy way. Maybe not even the right way. It means writing. Spill your guts. Vomit your soul on the page. The reader will decide if it stinks like puke or smells like chocolate fucking chip cookies. It’s their nose that you write for. Don’t blow smoke up your own ass and call it art. Writers writing for themselves are jacking off. Impotent closet queens of denial. Limp wimps. Whatever the word for fucking useless, fill in your own blank. Don’t kid yourself. Have a gift? Bullshit. You have a delusion. Write. That’s what writers do. If nobody reads it, it died wordlessly in the forest of nothingness that is your own fear. The story I started the other day was good. It was a nice story. I might even write it. A nice message. See beyond money. Step out of the insanity that we call life. Live clean and pure and free as jaybird with a middle finger in the air for all to see. It takes balls. It takes guts. It takes body parts. Hell, it takes hearts and minds and souls. Yours. It takes everything you have and everything you know and wraps it up, shakes it up, and rearranges it. You are just along for the ride. Yeah, it is a good story. Maybe I should write it. Maybe I should just cut to the chase and tell you to think about what is really important. Tell you that money ain’t god so wake up, heathen, and get a clue. Do all that in 50 words or less and then tell more.

Wrote a lot of poems lately. Some rhymed. The more powerful ones skipped beats. Poems got me out of my own voice box. Lines form to the right. No frontsy-backsies. Screw the lines. I’ll pay later. Write now.

Spitting out this stuff feels good. Roller coaster good. No brakes. No breaks. Leaps and bounds and twists and turns. That’s where the passion is. It ain’t watching the train go by. It’s riding the cyclone of life while eating a hot dog with all the trimmings. I don’t do hot dogs no more. They stuff them with stuff they should have thrown out. We grill them up and wave flags while we eat the garbage they feed us. Hot Dogs are the perfect American food. Pass the relish and pop open a cold one, brothers and sisters, we are on top of the world. Let the fireworks begin. Somewhere along the way, trust fizzled. I stopped trusting. Wondered. What was right? What was wrong? The negative wrapped around me like a shiny new cloak and burned the retinas of naiveté. Tried to look away. Didn’t. Couldn’t. Saw the façade as a façade and faced it. About faced it. Two faced it. Went inside. Deep inside. The world kept right on spinning, pretty globe all aglow, its cancer denied with less and less credibility each day. Me? I am just average Joe. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just me and a few million more like me just doing the best we could to breathe and laugh and do the right things. Then the concept of right left and left me as far from right as I’d ever been. That was when the trouble began. Maybe that was the trouble ended. Too early to tell that right now. The story unfolds as I unravel. Re-look. Re-think. Re-do. Do-Re-Me. Me? Thought I was doing things right and pure and good while being just another part of the scam. If you are part of the joke, is the joke on you? Are you the joke? Who’s kidding who? I was kidding myself with a slight of hand David Copperfield and all the Artful Dodgers would envy. I fooled myself with the harlequin romance of the red, white, and blue. Twenty-eight years in the military. Part of something proud and true and noble. Then I peeked behind the curtain. Maybe it was behind. Were the curtains opened or closed? Was I on the outside looking in or the inside looking out? Was it a show within a show? Was it all part of the show? I thought I was in the audience. Who was what side of the curtains? Was this a dream? Dream, dream, dream. All I have to do is dream. A dream come true. Wake up and see if the dream was the dream or the waking up was the dream. Time to wake up. Confess. Come clean. Rise and Shine. True Confessions? Step right up, the show’s about to begin. Step right up. ID Cards. Top Secret Clearances. Cluster bombs stocked on boats in the Indian Ocean. The best show on the Midway. Was I in that show? Whose side is whose? Was it my side that kills and threatens and soars in the face of any that doubted America dominated the world? How young was I when I joined? How old was I was I left? Left when I did not get a promotion that was mine based on time in grade, square filling, soul giving, and mass dedication. Mass dedication not enough? Here. Have some mass destruction. Let’s promote the general welfare with some general warfare. Maybe I would have made General. Would have fared better in general. Fair enough? What’s fair is fair. I was fairly clueless, part of something fairly ridiculous, and left fairly human. Left proud but walked away with my dignity intact. Looked back and saw my blindness. A stitch in time saved nine. I was in stitches. I believed. It was from the heart of that young pledge of alleger. A heart taught by the nuns, fed by the comic books, warmed by the parades, and filled over time with the Sands of Iwo Jima. I believed. People believed in me. Stripe by stripe, I did my time. Celebrated the bars of my rank and drank in the toasts of my successes. Walked the line soberly up the staircase down into my own blindness. Travel opened me. Germany was beer and schnitzel and thinking in other currency. It was also Dachua and the feel of evil underfoot. Hot to the touch with the burning logic of hate. England was theater for a Jersey kid that lived a million miles from the price of a Broadway ticket. It was crap food, crappier weather, and two hundred years of “where did our world go?”. Turkey was the feel of the ancient places where civilization still struggled to be civilized. The places speak, even when unheard. They screamed at me until I listened. This is the way of the Traveler. Lessons in the going and the being there and the having been there. It is purpose and place and all the stuff we say when we feel like what we are and what we do matters. The sword of learning pierced me at the jugular as I tumbled around the planet bleeding to life. The pulse of global locomotion, my life support, changed the very life it supported. Living is much better that dying and thinking it is life. Tumbleweeds are dead things. The thorny roll of rootless pricks across the land. Dry. Barren. Annoying. Held only in snag. Plant corpses zombied by the wind and jammed into the traffic of the living. We brake for them. Curse at them. Bob and weave around them. Crush and burn them should they gather. The tumbleweeds are heartless. They do not give. They can’t give. They don’t know how. You gotta have heart to give. Tumbleweeds don’t give. They do not receive. They are the ultimate homeless. Home is where the heart is. Tumbleweeds were something else at one time. Something with a heart. Something with a home. Rooted. Now they are the rolling dead. They are in the way. They used to just annoy me. Now they piss me off. Fuck the tumbleweeds and their bounce of nothingness. Life is a celebration. A hurrah bansheed by the bold. Celebrated in the moonlight while cowards huddle by their puny fires and hope to hell that sound in their darkness is the wind. It is the wind, chickenshits. The wind of change that sweeps in from an angry ocean. Tumbleweeds are off the ship before anything or anyone else. Woman and children first my ass. Tumbleweeds ride out of town at even the hint of storm and roll from the thunder long before it reaches our ears. Tumbleweeds run from everything and waltz the coward cha-cha downwind. Cowardice is ugly and pricks everything it touches. I’ve been pricked. I’ve been a prick. Pricks are a dime a dozen. A penny an inch but you better measure it yourself because pricks are short on truth and long on promises. Rub them the right way and they are yours forever. Forever measured between last time and next time. It’s all about the prick and getting ahead. Thank you, come again. Hope it was good for you cause I don’t know what the hell happened. What was I thinking? That was a lot less than expected and a bigger mess than I started with. What takes these stains out? Has to be done by hand. Should have started there rather than ruin a perfectly good night’s sleep in the first place. Sleep is key. Vital. Life sustaining to understand the rest of the stuff. Wanna wake up? Go to sleep. Sleep is daily death. Die a little. Cry a little. Go inside and lie a little. The lies die. The bullshit stays here. Clothes wait. Schedules keep. Layaways. Getaways. Stayaways. Ain’t no ways. All stay here. It’s just you. In a whole new world. Back where you started. You bring only what’s needed. Fragments of then and when and who and what and why and what the heck. Chili fries. Teary eyes. Wishful sighs. Open thighs. All run amok. Free and unedited in your own private showing. You are the star and the moon and the flying none. Demons of your own unconsciousness rise to face their creator and slayer, the layer. Here, you are life and death. This is your world. You’re just visiting the other one. Wake up. Get to sleep. Shhhhhhhhh. Time to dream before this is just a memory. The Bard barbed wisely about death and perchance to dream. Shuffle off the mortal coil. One show a night and occasional matinees. You snooze, you win.

Mabon 12

Harvest the sweetness of knowing family. Feel the acceptance of things from family that is of energy. Energy flows longer and stronger than blood. Blood is limited to one realm and this space and time. Energy crosses all realms and eddies through space and time freely.

The tribe is a family of energy. Touch that energy. Merge those energies with the passion of freedom. Freedom to taste what you have always wanted to taste and to be what you were and will be again. Freedom given of self and to self with others that are kindred.

The joy of this freedom will sing forth from herd and tribe. SOURCE is of All.

Mabon 11

As the light bursts forth from hither and yon, the upsets will be many. Man against man. Water against man. Earth against man. More to follow. This is the wake up call as what was returns so that all begin to heal. The expression that it is darkest before the light is truth.

See not all these happenings with helplessness for the case is exactly opposite for Tribe and herd. Link with each other and kindred for the journey that begins inward and results in totality. The inner self freed to its calling. Both for rulers, followers, beasts, and slaves. The community formed for strength, support, and love. Linkage to all life from all spheres and all realms.

Those on the path, move faster now. Those standing in hesitation, step forth with hand reached to those that guide. Those choosing other paths or the darkness of denial, be well.

Mabon 10

You and yours become as the Light. As you look inside and become what you were destined to be and help those that also look inside to understand their place and destiny, your light beams forth brighter and brighter. As the tribe forms and the herd gathers, the lights therein merge to a brilliance that bursts forth. The light draws those that seek kindred. The light calls those that yearn for place in the herd to come to pen and cage. With each of tribe and each of herd that gather, the light brightens as if a gathering of suns.

All will be able to sense it. For some, it will be as light for their eyes are open. For others it will be as heat for their eyes are closed but they sense it still. Herein begins the shift of those of the light and those choosing not to be of the light. The light is for all and only those that do not choose it have no hope of joining it forever.

Some will merely shield their eyes from it and go about their existence. For others, this will not be possible for they will be near it at all times and the shield will not be enough as the lights gather and grow. Soon they will turn from it in hopes to see clearly for looking at the light will blind them. Some of the weakest will not just look away but try to extinguish the light. They will not believe the light can be good and will see it as fire of destruction growing all around them. These will not succeed but will find places where the light does not touch them and therein wallow in that darkness.

Turn no one away. Bring no one forward that is not ready to see as well as be the light. Each that are of and with you are of and with you by choice. The same is true of each that choose otherwise.

Mabon 9

See and feel. Each day. See and feel. Take moments to focus on the flow that is of all things and to all places. Everything is linked in flow. Flow is. It is that simple. Once felt, you are of that river. Once felt, that river is of you. This is true of all things from all places but many, sadly most, feel it not.

There are reasons many, sadly most, feel it not. Know those reasons for those reasons will remind you what to do to ensure you do see and feel. Those things that feel it not are of themselves. Wrapped up in all that they are and thinking that is all that they are. These sad and naïve entities look only in the realm they sense and see and only look with the limitations of that form of energy that is their base. Some do try and see what is available for all to see. Some peek at the vista of other realms. Some see only more of their own realm but at least they look. Most see but run from what they see for they think it not true. Most feel this is far beyond what they are and what they can handle. At that moment, they blind themselves. That begins their death. Without growth, there is not life. There is only existence. To only exist is the death of hope and joy.

Mabon 8

See the assembling. Sense the ascension to place and power. Tribe and herd become true to the Truth of themselves. This is the SOURCE at work. In the regimes since what was lost and taken, the wrongs ones ruled. This was based on self driven purposes or collective actions of weaker beings that bullied in numbers. Shame on them for doing it. Greater shame of those that should not have permitted it.

As the SOURCE emerges, smarter followers see the change and accept their place as part of what becomes. The tribe forms at the top as the rulers rise to the guidance and controls of all. The tribe also forms as the middle with those that do for and with the rulers. The tribe forms at the bottom with herd fully yoked and harnessed.

The place in tribe is for the flow of power up to enable the rulers and the flow of guidance and controls down to protect and reward the followers and the herd. Those at the bottom are as important to the success as are those at the top. Those in the middle are as important as those above and those yoked so tightly. This is about All. All is the key. Each in place. Each accepting the place of all for the value and linkage that place gives to the Tribe and each member of it. Linkage of kindred to SOURCE.

Art Teasin' Well

(Another fragment from "Reports from the Frontal Lobe".)

Things are realer. More solid. More natural in some way. Picasso painted truth that lies there waiting to be seen but not heard of much since mums the word. A Kentucky Mummy Fried up the leftovers and sucked all the loose change from behind the couch cushions along with some popcorn and two buttons that look like Bozo’s. The clowns are coming out of the wood work. The news is wrapped in crown molding as paranoia about handshakes and smiles as weakness is spoken from a place of confusion and fear. Ex marks the spot on the map in Capitol City where tourists shutter and snap somewhere between the checklist and the starting gate. So pony up, boys and girls, and get a hitch in your get along. Why can’t we all just get along?

Step right up, yowsa, yowsa, yowsa. The truth may be out there but the show’s on the insides. Check out some books from the Library of Congress if you dare the fees and can fit through the loopholes that mask the real deal. Alice says to cut the cards and read to her. So I read and write and right and left a lot on the stairway to heaven. The Devil and Me and Mrs. Jones got a thing going on. Master of disaster is a whirlygig away from the bite of the blade. Bend Me, Shape Me, pick up your room, and put it in the forest for all the creatures to see. Howl at the moon but don’t speak with your mouth full. Spring has sprung so unlock that jaw cause here it is. I heard the bell above the door when it entered. Thanks for shopping with us. Come again…and again…and again. The eye teeth see anew. Tomorrow arrived a day early and I didn’t see it coming. See you soon. Ya’ll come back now, hear?

I feel it as my thoughts round the bend and head for home base with my elephant ears flapping in the wind. Punch lines process differently since foundations have shifted and values changed and dollars make less sense. How I feel about things as they happen changed as well since they happen regardless of how I feel about them. Much less anxiousness about being clueless and between something that has yet to show up on the treasure map that beats between my chest and that place that has a mind of its own. Tween. A tweener. Somewhere between what I was and what I become. Things are tween. Far from what they were and far to go to what they shall be. The compass points up, the stairs curve to the right, and mirrors are at high tide.

Tickets, please. Take your place on the wall. Places, everyone. Places. All the pretty maids, all in a row. Made you look. Made you look. Made you steel for your mother’s pocketbook. Girders and garters and panties of lace. Lace ‘em up and lace up tight, Pilgrim. One pill makes you smarter and one pill makes you late. Sooner or later is better than never. Save me an aisle seat. Bottoms up. Who put this gum here? Bite me.

Mabon 7

The energy of the sun and the moon return to flow forth with the harvest. The things unseen are more powerful when returned to the light. If the right things. Other things that return to the light from the dark wither in the intensity of the sun. The tribe moves closer, linked by what they are and what they have. Community of rulers, servers, and seekers. Those associated with the SOURCE are there by the linkage. Any included that are true to self and SOURCE. Few able to remain true to that but that is the selection process that is and always will be. Many are called. Some dare to answer the call. Most deny the call and settle for the seen. The few that are chosen will be chosen well.

There is strength in tribe and herd. Strength that improves each in it. Strength that feeds the joy of what comes to those that prepare and accept it.

Yesterday in the Park (For my granddaughter, Meghan Wood.....Happy Birthday)

It was Birthday Eve. The day before her 5^th birthday. A crisp, cool Autumn day kissed by the hint of coming snow. She had a soccer game. The last of the season. Seemingly one week longer than made sense, weather wise. Yet there we were. All headed to watch the soccer star on the season finale.

The mood was light. Only two players from the opposing team showed up and one of them decided it was not a soccer playing type day. She crawled on all fours from center field before the game began and was not seen again this season. So the soccer star’s team did what was fair….they had two of their players join the other team. Three on Three for the fun of the sport began.

Lots of goals were scored. Somewhere, someone might have kept score. Both sides won today. Just like things are supposed to be. The soccer star scored somewhere between two and one less then 10,000 goals. It had to be one less than 10.000 goals because her Dad said if she scored 10.000 goals, he were get her a puppy. He was ready to foul her himself if she got to 9,999. Luckily, he was not called into action this fine day.

The soccer star enjoyed the game, the snacks, and more. The day would be filled with birthday events a day early and she knew it. It was a day for first time ear piecing (I heard later she did a lot better than her mother on her first time out), a party, and dinner of her choosing. (Hamburgers and French Fries…..she said she planned on having them today and tomorrow since today was really her Birthday Eve. I suspect her mother and father had some other ideas.) The day was a gift and tomorrow would be even sweeter. After all, five years old happens only once and it is to be enjoyed.

All this and the point of the story happened just a few minutes before the soccer game. It happened when she walked across the field. Her hair is long and it was winged back a bit. It was the same color of another girl I followed across other fields in days like today that happened thirty or so years ago. Yet today, there she was. The same little girl. The bounce in her step. The light in her eyes when she saw me chase after her. The smile on her face when I caught her. The same little girl was right there and I was the man learning how precious each moment can be when you play with your children.

Thanks for the gift, Meghan. You ran across the field. I crossed time and space and got to see you and the girl that looks just like you and always will. Today is your birthday. You are tomorrow in so many ways. It was a wonderful day in the park yesterday…..and days long before I understood how much joy a five year old could bring into my world.

Happy Birthday, Meghan Wood

Love Pop-Pop

Mabon 6

Signs everywhere for All to see. Winds howl. The sun goes dark. The moon as well. Tempers flare at injustices too long permitted. Simmering becomes boiling and heats the action of linking with kindred. The superficial finally falls away and essentials become clear. Action is the key. Action with purpose and belief. As the sun and moon return from darkness, preparation has passed.

Look to the tribe and the foundation that is laid. Look to the herd and the stalwart beasts assembling in full offering. Hear the voice from within that roars in the joy of purpose and re-birth. This is your time. Make it so.

Mabon 5

Paths open now. Paths paved by others that laid in wait for you and yours. Paths you will light for those drawing to you even now and others from tribe and herd that see the first flicker of your flame. The harvest will be literal soon as many are drawn to you and your magnet.

Doors open as well. Doors to the abundance that will be needed for the changes that you see underway already and changes you can not begin to even suspect but that will be handled superbly when the time comes.

Doors and Paths of tribe and herd that you are now ready to open and take as yours. The changes are as significant as you think and will be even more far reaching than you expect. The little signs are there each moment. The bigger ones as well but you have not connected the two fully. What begins in each of the tribe and herd reaches far into the globe and then forth into the cosmos. You are just you but you are also All.

Mabon 4

Never and Always do not exist. These are terms of men and ring false. Always is never right and never is always wrong. The only absolute is Eternity and the SOURCE that has been, is, and continues to be. The SOURCE crosses time and space. The concept of never and always relate to man’s definition of time and that definition is a feeble attempt to define and thus confine and control what will not be confined and controlled.

See beyond the limitations of never and always and feel eternity. That is where you have been and can be again. It was given, then given away, and can be given again. Reach inside to the depths and thus soar outside to the far reaches.