Bananas

I just had a banana. One day past premo banana day, it was joyous. All by itself. Raw and pure. It stood alone. I felt it first because of what I did not do with it. I did not just eat while doing anything else. Did not slice in and put it in a bowl to be part of a wonderful Ice Cream Sundae. A banana split and celebrated along with the mother’s milk of Ice Cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and more than one cherry on top. I let it touch me as sure as Ice Cream decadence does…all by itself.

It came from Ecuador. Wow. Way down there and now way up here. Someone picked it. He, I suspect it was a he, probably didn’t notice. It was just one piece of fruit on a stalk of many other pieces of fruit and just another stalk of many other stalks of fruit picked that day and then the next. Rushed to time everything right to go from almost ready to the store shelf somewhere far away so someone could have a banana when they wanted one. He didn’t know that someone. He didn’t know that somewhere. He didn’t notice that banana. Just another day. Just another job. Just another labor. He had to work fast. The work was now and would last but a few weeks. His son needed his example, his daughter needed shoes, and his wife was making him a dessert tonight because it was their anniversary. He was happy to have the work, the wife, the son, the daughter, and cake waiting. He didn’t notice the banana I ate this morning.

I did. It smelled just like a banana. Bananas have a great smell. A smell of tropical things. They smell like a holiday on an island somewhere. A rich aroma of magical fruits that come in bunches and really taste heavenly. Then I peeled it. Slow and easy, partner. Took off its clothes and brought it from covered to naked and ready to eat. The peel would remain and move to my very own compost pile. It would shift. Change to something else. Dirt. That would be garden dirt. That would feed a tomato that I would eat, skin and all, just a few months from now. Today it was the banana’s turn.

It felt like bananas feel when they are naked. Soft yet not. Slippery yet not. I smelled it. Really smelled it. Deep. Let the smell bring back all the memories of all the bananas ever. Safeway bananas. Bananas on the rocks of Waterfall Canyon trail. Bananas in Alaska with Jim Philip who liked old, brown, gushy bananas. Bananas shared with the kids when I was the smartest man in the world and knew everything about anything.

Then I ate it. Slowly. Each bite a kiss of something important. I was Popeye and it was spinach. My muscles felt it from fingers to toes. My energy soared. Shazam! Banana Power!

Life was appealing, joy arrived by the boatload, and all was right in every republic everywhere. I just had a banana. Well, maybe it was more than a banana. Much more. Now I can share it with you. Just had to really feel it and understand it first.

Enjoy your breakfast. Enjoy every single thing you do today. Life is full of bananas.

Ostara 13

Reevaluate home. Home is vital yet has been lost over the eons. Home is comfort and ease as well as connection and belonging. As travels and mobility escalated, home was muddled. Mobility can limit roots and travel tests connection. That has been the case but can, even must, be changed.

Home is where your energy should soar. The place where you are most comfortable being. Energy is the key. Those you invite in should be of energy that helps your home and feeds the synergy there. Tools give home long legs and know there are those in the home that are not the physical. More energy than flesh and they will remain that way. This is the Power of the now and the Power of the old that was lost.

Once we ventured forth on energy and felt and loved and linked. Then flesh moved forth more and energy was used less. The circle moves back now and more have sources of energy to travel to places their eyes will never see. This is how home is now and that must not be underestimated.

Home is yours to define and claim. Home is community and this yours to define and claim as well. Master the energy all have as well as the energy few but those like you have. Home is special for it is the place that completes you. The place that calls to you when you are anywhere other than home. Home is yours for the asking, the taking, and the making.

Ostara 12

Be open to things that would have seemed beyond imagination. You already have embraced much that re-shaped beliefs force fed you in youth. Handed to you via rote. Enforced to you by many, some of which practiced not what they preached. You retained much of it as yours but experienced generated questions. Questions unanswered that nagged at the beliefs and tore through the facades. New realms open now. Things beyond just take my word for it religions. Sacred things. Things unseen but not unfelt. Those things are here and have been here all along. Those things are here now and you will not only touch them but you will touch them, keep them, use them, and, more importantly, share them. The flesh is fleeting but what makes you what you are is not fleeting. It is eternal and connected to what was as well as what will be. It is linked to other places not of this world and not of this time. It is unlimited in beauty and power.

You sense it and have more recently than ever before. Move to it and those that sense it with you. Some can see hints of it as those hints are physical. They are special people and should be held in high regard. Some sense it as if by intuition or hunch but with confidence and belief. Once validated, they should be used as guides and teachers. You have gifts of your own. Tap into them for others need what you bring just as you need what they bring. Be open. It will require change but that change merely rights your path and completes you.

Ostara 11

The change you see in others and feel in yourself is more than mere change. It is metamorphosis. Change in constant. Metamorphosis is rare. Think of the caterpillar for that is the equal of this transformation. To be what it was and then enter the cocoon of change is a major step. Inside, all will be changed. All will be modified. So much so that when the caterpillar emerges, it is no longer caterpillar. It is not even seen as caterpillar. All see the Butterfly.

Eyes watch the butterfly’s path and see beauty and glory and joy. They do not see the caterpillar. Even those that look for the caterpillar have to know where to look. The Majesty of the new creature dwarfs it. Even when those who wish to see the caterpillar look beyond the flight and to the base of the wings, they see a shape akin to what was but even more at the core has changed. It is there but not there as it modified to support what it is now. This is what it was destined to be.

The wiser enjoy the caterpillar for its form and function but wait for it to be butterfly. They savor all of the new being. The metamorphosis is not easy. If it was easy, more creatures in nature would make such changes. It is rare. It is wonderful. It is like you. Special in all ways.

Word Guitar

I reached for a guitar and wrote a poem. The canvas cried for its cover and my pen told how it hungered and what it wished to be. My flats are sharp and my sharps just don’t cut it. My words sing though. Sing right from me into you and name your tune. My art crosses my own darkness, lights out, and finds friends I may never get to meet. “Me, too” people. They see themselves in me and don’t have to set eyes on me. Here I am. Lettering in life. Lettering life. Letters, notes, books in various stages of birth, rants, raves, waves, wakes, and shimmy-shimmy-coco-pop.

Don’t believe me? Try and deny that I moved your thoughts. Hum along with me. I am in your crook and nanny as sure as a crooked nanny, Ed Burns, Annette, and let’s be frank…..you like it.

Someone else can teach the world to sing. I write. You read. That’s enough for me.

Strumming and drumming…..I just keep ‘em coming. It rocks me. Its how I roll. It’s the music in my soul. It makes me whole. Holy, Holy, Holy. Once more. From the top. Maybe the bottom. La-La-La-Land of a thousand ways to say something. Anything. As long as it matters. As long as I am matter. As long as I have the energy. Even longer. Longer than forever is a long, long time….except when forever is yesterday and tomorrow is now and that might be sooner than we think.

At no time did my fingers leave my hand. Stuck my finger in the dyke and all hell broke loose. Hell hath no fury like a woe, man. Woe. Woe sucks. Let’s sing the blues and paint the town read.

Ostara 10

See the path ahead. Pause and look at it as it beckons. Know that ahead is your destiny and your joy. Feel the inner resolve and the many changes that brought you to and prepared you for this moment. Breathe deep and feel the air of kindred fill your lungs and fuel your strength.

Then breathe even deeper and turn to look back at your own past. See it all. Good and bad. You carry much of it with you and it is time to leave it behind. See all the events but for the first time see them not as good or bad. There is good and bad in all and they should not be categorized as just good or just bad.

The things you thought were good were many. Love. Friendship. Connection to pets. The joys of moments of laughter. Even material goods made you feel happy. All good things. But bad as well as good loves moved onto to other plains without you. Friendships soured or faded. Pets that are not at this time for you. Laughter that came and went. Material goods that rusted and broke. Bad that they did. Good while it lasted.

The things you thought were bad were many as well. Abuses. Lies. Inconsiderate acts. Pain and illness. Helplessness as time ravaged loved ones and weaknesses crushed potential. Losses. All seemingly bad things. Yet good as well as abuses toughen awareness and resolve. Inconsiderate acts moved you to others versus the ones you thought important at the time. Pain and illness dissolved and made each moment sweeter when gone. Ravages fueled conquests over self and weakness. Loses spurred actions of change and resulted in higher levels of happiness.

All things meant to be so you are the one that stands here now and reviews them. See them not as good nor bad. See what was and is no more. Accept it. Dismiss the judgment of it and smile that it all was and is now all part of who you are. Turn back to the path that you now journey and step forward with resolve. You are ready.

Hiding

What did I hide from and where did I hide? Felt the many in hiding this day and the many hiding places. Hiding in plain site, behind locked doors, in gated communities, in gangs, behind judgments, from judgments, in righteousness, and under banners of hate. Felt the hiding. Hiding from so many things that they are alone. Alone and unable to hide from the very thing they really hide from…themselves.

Wherever we go, there we are. We are right there. No matter how high we crank up the music and false laughter. We hide deep in the bottle and at the other end of the plunger…..and are right there when we come back from those hiding places of delusion. We close the curtains and end up closer to whatever we conceal. We sleep perchance to dream but what comes in those dreams of truth must give up pause. We wake tired and head for the first hiding place we can find.

We hide behind the dedication of long hours and overtime pay. We hide in the dark of the movies and the light comedy of prime time. We hide from union, communion, and reunion. We hide behind pseudonyms, acronyms, homilies, similes, metaphors, and platitudes. We hide from others because we don’t know where we are. We hide from others because we are not sure who we are. We hide from others for causes blamed on others and celebrate when we find others in the same hiding place. We hide so well we forget we are hiding. We begin to think we can find ourselves in hiding.

We hide because we can’t handle the truth. We choose not to handle our truth. We hide the truth, then hide from the truth, then hide from that hiding place and hope the hiding places have things to keep us busy cause we just need to keep busy. We climb the walls rather then look in our own eyes. We work like the devil rather than look at our souls. We hid in therapy and recovery.

Hiding comes in many forms. Truth comes in one. Hi, I am Gil, and I quit hiding from myself.

Hope you like what you see. It’s all I got. Its enough for me and it’s getting a bit better everyday. Alle-Alle-In-Free.