Litha 4

Journal your dreams. Dreams tell of other realms. Dreams reveal other places. Dreams are the avenue of connection to not just those places and those realms but to those in them. Those that reach to you and long not just to be heard but for you to remember their words.

The journals are not just of the dreams but of the dreamer and the dreamer’s environment. Dreamers can shape and even guide dreams. Note the dream and all of it immediately upon rising, whenever the dream has you rise. Note also all around you. What you wear or do not wear. Who is with you in this realm as well as who is not. The time of the here as well as the feel of the here. Temperatures, light, settings, smells, sounds, all of the environment effect dreams as surely as the subconscious opening the doors to self. As you journal, review the trend for it is there to see

.

Once you know your dream habit, use that knowledge to shape dreams. Ensure certain smells drive that sense to other senses and, in turn, mold the dreams. Likewise with all senses. Dreams are journeys and the travelers cannot just know the terrain but plan the trips. Do so.

Many mean to journal. Few do. That is to separate. Decide the side of the void you are on. Join. Journal. They wait. They always have. They always will. Yours for the company and for the taking. Hear. Join. Enjoy. Use.

Simple Fi (Recycled)

I started a club today. You can be in it if you want. Anyone can. That’s just the way I do things. Inclusive. A nice word. Inclusive. If I eliminated people from my club…well, that would be bad and short sighted and just the opposite of what is right. People do belong. We are all in the same club. The “I have been born, I am going die, and I doing my best in between to make sense of what the heck I am doing here” club.

The ain’t the name of my club. If that was the name of my club, t-shirts would be out of the question. My club is “Simple Fi”

Kinda sounds like one of those things some people do at colleges and such. For some, those kinda clubs were the best part of their college experience. For me, those things were not any part of my college experience. Just because my college experience was a tad bit different that most.

I took classes at twenty-seven different colleges/universities, graduated from four, and, until a road trip a year ago when I went out of my way to drive onto the campus of University of Nebraska at Omaha, never stepped foot on the four I graduated from. It’s the facts, Jack. I was a migrant worker (twenty-eight years in the US Military) and took classes wherever I could and whenever I could. Even took some night classes at an All Girls Catholic College in Nashua New Hampshire. Turned out it was the very first time they opened their night classes to co-ed…myself and one other guy were the only two males that attended that first quarter. Just me and him and all women. Dang the luck! Had a nun, a room full of women, and a demanding class. Still shows up in my dreams. Only on good nights though. Learning can be such a dream come true.

Along the way, I amassed a few degrees. BA. MBA. PhD. That impresses some folks. Letters after a name are very important to some. I was one of those for quite a while. Maybe the letters after my name should have been BOZO (In training). Well, I achieved the highest level of learning there. I am Bozo Emeritus. Screw that shit. Take the letters after my name, stamp them, and send them to the dead letter office. If you need letters after my name to care about what I say, you most likely would not believe what I say anyway.

With the slightly different path my college education took, the opportunity of Sororities and Fraternities just did not surface. Just as well really. The only time I attended anything close to a full time college experience was just recently when attending Utah College of Massage Therapy. The Principle called me to her office one day, and it had been over forty years since I was called to the Principle’s office, said a student had filed a complaint against me, and kicked me out. Just like that. No questions. No explanations. Fifty-six years old and I was kicked out of college. Wow.

What the heck would have happened if I had attended college back in the 70s? Holy Moly…..I can only imagine. Timothy Leary…eat you heart out. It is easy to be radical when in your 20s. Bring radical when you are 56 is…..well, radical. Helps me understand why I am not a joiner. Like Groucho said, “I refuse to belong to any club that would have me for a member.” Until today, that is. I like being in Simple Fi.

Simple Fi is different than Fraternities and Sororities. Although my path did not include time in clubs with Greek Letters for names, hazing ceremonies, and the opportunity to be three sheets to the wind while wrapped in a sheet, I understood the basic math. Fraternities + Sororities = Paternity.

My club is an Eternity Club. Your eternity is welcomed. My eternity is welcome. Here an eternity. There an eternity. Everywhere an eternity. Maybe that could be our theme song. Sung to the tune of Old MacDonald had a Farm of course. Our mascot could be a Ewe. My you. Your you. Everywhere a you-you. Not a yo-yo. If you are a yo-yo, you are still welcome but you are probably busy amassing letters after your name.

In Simple Fi, you play. Everyone plays. Unless, of course, if someone is sad. Then we all cheer them up and then we all play. Kinda hard to play when someone else can’t. So we play. Alone. Together. Whatever works.

Today I played on the ice. Wasn’t much ice today. Spring is the air. Still there was some ice. For me, the best kind. The ice over puddles. I love cracking it and seeing the water kiss the open air. Maybe it is the open air that kisses the water. Whatever. A kiss is a still a kiss. Sometimes the air kisses the water, sometime the water kisses the air. You put the lime in the coconut, You drink them both up. I don’t play that game. Playing on the ice is enough for me. Life on the rocks is, well, life on the rocks. I let air kiss water and watcr kiss air and the Doctor can heal someone else’s belly ache. My belly is fine and full and not even hung over my belt.

So I walked. One foot on the street. One foot cracking the ice. Foot. Crack. Foot. Crack. Foot. Crack. Did it safely too. Foot. Crack. Never fell on my butt crack. Not today at least. Today I played. Today I started a club. Simple Fi.

Simple Fi. I think I will. I am a simple kinda guy. Don’t let the letters after my name fool you. I am smarter than they might make you think. Simple Fi. Lessons in life trump college every time. The colleges you attended, didn’t attend, wanted to attend, and even got kicked out of….lessons in life trump them all. I got a lot to learn.

Join the club. You already paid your dues. You were born. Now you can Simple Fi for life.

Litha 3

Storms can rage on all fronts but batter little if prepared. While some natural and otherwise forces can and will steamroll even the strongest of barricades, that is seldom and even then move the strong from withstand to survive. This does not crush the strong. Walls that are built on solid foundations face storms with little sway. Inside there is dry and warm and sweetness as forces whirl about and remind those huddled safely of appreciation and awe.

Storms energize with awe at the forces of nature as well as appreciation for preparation well done. Storms can alter routines and inconvenience but also offer time for togetherness and bonds. See the faces after the storms. Smiling in survival, basking in appreciation of the calm, and reflecting the steely resolve to mend and prepare anew.

Winds howl. Rain pours. Snow piles. The Tempest moves at will through days and nights and hours and minutes. The current of life is thus. Live prepared as well as aware. Stir not your own winds for there are enough from the canyons of others.

Nighttime Rhymes

Moon glows.

Mind goes.

Savage knows.

Primal grows.

Night calls.

Prey falls.

Fists ball.

Claws maul.

Manners strip.

Façade flips.

Fangs rip.

Blood drips.

Gathered hounds.

Howls sound.

Truths found.

Reclaimed ground.

Litha 2

Full moons are special. Nocturnal symbol of the Cycle for all to see. The moon and the tides linked in flow and shape and influence. All for any to notice but so few truly see. There are Cycles within cycles within even other cycles and that is energy and life and time and space spinning forever. The seasons cycle once while the moon cycles more than twelve times and the tides cycle twice as much as the planet itself cycles.

Look for each as each should be but see not each but the linkage of all. It is such with those that cycle in our lives and those lives linked to us. Celebrate the cycles as you see them and savor each in its way.

Man In The Mirror (For Michael Jackson) (Recycled)

A man was memorialized yesterday. A singer. A dancer. A father. A son. He was honored and sung about and celebrated. I watched and felt but then really felt him when watching a home movie of his on YouTube. Felt him. A person. A person who was crushed by judgments and began to disappear a few years before he died.

The judgments that broke him tried to surface for the last two weeks. Tried to rise and claim a victory over him somehow as if the damage they inflicted was still not enough. He was accused of things that were counter to his very core and many people, myself included, assumed his guilt. Some of us “understood” how such things could come to be. We felt sorry for him as he went to trial. A public trial that put the charges to public scrutiny and public justice. Justice that declared him innocent and then continued to paint him with a brush of guilt. He was tainted and broken and began to die. The man-child fell apart…a confused and battered fawn hunted, snared, and left to die.

What happened to Michael Jackson is sad. Sadder now that he died before he was in and of his own light again. I watched him last night…a man in a very different world. A first Christmas. Water balloon fights. Smiles. I saw him in his world…before his world was invaded, tainted, and crushed. A world of belief in magic and children and dance and music and more. A world where we can be as safe as children for all our lives. A world where gifts are shared and passions embraced. He made our world all the better with his gifts.

We destroyed his. We tore down a good man and let him die. Shame on us. We are the Man In The Mirror…and we have work to do. There is not an us and a them. There is an Us. We are to be part of the solution---not part of the problem. He was charged, exonerated, exiled, and vilified….with quiet winks and knowing nods. Silence isn’t golden sometimes. Silence is agreement sometimes. Omission. Commission. Evolution. Revolution. We have some changes to make in how we treat our heroes and what justice really is.

Michael Jackson was celebrated yesterday. Me? I just want to say I am sorry and hope he hears me.

I'm Gonna Make A Change,

For Once In My Life

It's Gonna Feel Real Good,

Gonna Make A Difference

Gonna Make It Right . . .

As I, Turn Up The Collar On My

Favourite Winter Coat

This Wind Is Blowin' My Mind

I See The Kids In The Street,

With Not Enough To Eat

Who Am I, To Be Blind?

Pretending Not To See

Their Needs

A Summer's Disregard,

A Broken Bottle Top

And A One Man's Soul

They Follow Each Other On

The Wind Ya' Know

'Cause They Got Nowhere

To Go

That's Why I Want You To

Know

I'm Starting With The Man In

The Mirror

I'm Asking Him To Change

His Ways

And No Message Could Have

Been Any Clearer

If You Wanna Make The World

A Better Place

(If You Wanna Make The

World A Better Place)

Take A Look At Yourself, And

Then Make A Change

(Take A Look At Yourself, And

Then Make A Change)

(Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,

Na Nah)

I've Been A Victim Of A Selfish

Kind Of Love

It's Time That I Realize

That There Are Some With No

Home, Not A Nickel To Loan

Could It Be Really Me,

Pretending That They're Not

Alone?

A Willow Deeply Scarred,

Somebody's Broken Heart

And A Washed-Out Dream

(Washed-Out Dream)

They Follow The Pattern Of

The Wind, Ya' See

Cause They Got No Place

To Be

That's Why I'm Starting With

Me

(Starting With Me!)

I'm Starting With The Man In

The Mirror

(Ooh!)

I'm Asking Him To Change

His Ways

(Ooh!)

And No Message Could Have

Been Any Clearer

If You Wanna Make The World

A Better Place

(If You Wanna Make The

World A Better Place)

Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make A Change

(Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make A Change)

I'm Starting With The Man In

The Mirror

(Ooh!)

I'm Asking Him To Change His

Ways

(Change His Ways-Ooh!)

And No Message Could've

Been Any Clearer

If You Wanna Make The World

A Better Place

(If You Wanna Make The

World A Better Place)

Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make That . . .

(Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make That . . .)

Change!

I'm Starting With The Man In

The Mirror,

(Man In The Mirror-Oh

Yeah!)

I'm Asking Him To Change

His Ways

(Better Change!)

No Message Could Have

Been Any Clearer

(If You Wanna Make The

World A Better Place)

(Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make The Change)

(You Gotta Get It Right, While

You Got The Time)

('Cause When You Close Your

Heart)

You Can't Close Your . . .Your

Mind!

(Then You Close Your . . .

Mind!)

That Man, That Man, That

Man, That Man

With That Man In The Mirror

(Man In The Mirror, Oh Yeah!)

That Man, That Man, That Man

I'm Asking Him To Change

His Ways

(Better Change!)

You Know . . .That Man

No Message Could Have

Been Any Clearer

If You Wanna Make The World

A Better Place

(If You Wanna Make The

World A Better Place)

Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make A Change

(Take A Look At Yourself And

Then Make A Change)

Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!

Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,

Na Nah

(Oh Yeah!)

Gonna Feel Real Good Now!

Yeah Yeah! Yeah Yeah!

Yeah Yeah!

Na Na Na, Na Na Na, Na Na,

Na Nah

(Ooooh . . .)

Oh No, No No . . .

I'm Gonna Make A Change

It's Gonna Feel Real Good!

Come On!

(Change . . .)

Just Lift Yourself

You Know

You've Got To Stop It.

Yourself!

(Yeah!-Make That Change!)

I've Got To Make That Change,

Today!

Hoo!

(Man In The Mirror)

You Got To

You Got To Not Let Yourself . . .

Brother . . .

Hoo!

(Yeah!-Make That Change!)

You Know-I've Got To Get

That Man, That Man . . .

(Man In The Mirror)

You've Got To

You've Got To Move! Come

On! Come On!

You Got To . . .

Stand Up! Stand Up!

Stand Up!

(Yeah-Make That Change)

Stand Up And Lift

Yourself, Now!

(Man In The Mirror)

Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!

Aaow!

(Yeah-Make That Change)

Gonna Make That Change . . .

Come On!

(Man In The Mirror)

You Know It!

You Know It!

You Know It!

You Know . . .

(Change . . .)

Make That Change.

(Michael Jackson)

Blue Jeans and T-Shirt Man

Blue Jeans and T-Shirt Man.

Life turned out different than planned.

Tried the uniform and even the suits.

Now speaking your mind, living your truth.

Poets and Singers and Hobos and Jews.

Lessons abound once you really do choose.

Trains whistles get you and little girl eyes.

Rip you wide open, in that place where you cry.

Deserts feed thirsts and the ocean just drains.

Moon has your number and werewolves your pain.

Stars adorn nothing and tattoos tell tales.

Whore well the words birthed in your wail.

Yes, you were clueless despite good intent.

Time is restricted and space you just rent.

Breathe every moment and sleep when you can.

You have much more to do, don’t bother to vent.

Judge not the judges for you once judged a ton.

Be not above the things you have done.

Smile in awareness as you move to the light

Blue Jeans and T-Shirts fit you just right.

Atlas Cafe (Recycled)

The crossing-guard and I exchanged greetings, as has become custom, as he stopped cars for another one of the many people he helped each morning. As I continued on my walk, my reflections were about him and the hundreds, likely thousands, of people he touches every day. Some with just a wave as they ride by again on their way to work just as they do most of their weekdays. Some with the vital talk of familiarity as they go to school. He probably knows a few of their names and greets them by it. “Have a great day at school, Janie.” “Hope you had a great day today, Johnny. See you tomorrow.” Others he likely knows by the color of their coat or their Superman backpack. He knows them and they know him.

He is part of the fiber that holds their days together. A simple part of the routine that helps them belong. The crossing-guard is an everyday hero. So is that person that is almost always the one that gets your morning coffee. As are the short-order cooks, waiters and waitresses, barbers and hairdressers, photo lab folks, clerks, and many, many more. The ones that are there almost every single day and warm your life more in those short connections than most do with much longer opportunities.

The crossing-guard reminded me about the Atlas Café in downtown Tulsa, Oklahoma. Years ago, my job as sales manager had me in Tulsa one week each month. I worked with the sales rep there to grow the business. One of the first things I did was to have her meet downtown so we could find one of the local breakfast/lunch places. We discovered the Atlas Café.

Located in the building of the same name, the Atlas Café is tucked away in the corner of the basement of a building that could have served as the Daily Planet building in the old Superman TV series. The rep and I met there for breakfast and talked shop while we ate. Then I watched. Felt is a better word. I felt the place and the morning rush as workers nourished much more than hunger with breakfast at the local watering hole. The feel of the place sweetened my coffee.

I asked the rep to watch and share what she saw. She watched for a bit and said the crew rarely talked. She said they seemed a bit cold to one another, except the waitress and cashier that dealt with the customers. That made me smile and I had here look again. Feel them. She did. I waited until the quiet awareness showed in her eyes.

“They are a team. A very, very good team. As good as the Yankees. As good as any Super Bowl winner. They are in the zone. Each knows exactly what to do and they do it. Without a word. If we were here before the rush, they would have been smoking and joking. If we stay until after the rush, they will be talking as they ease down from this part of their day. They are a team that serves a hundred plus folks in less than ninety minutes and they are damn good. That is not silence you hear. That is efficiency. That is team work…at its finest.” I explained there were places like this in every town, in every business part, in every neighborhood. Places where, like Cheers said, everyone knew your name. This is where you got to know people and people got to know you. This is where sales reps become more than some face.

She got it. We enjoyed the show while we finished our breakfast. When at the counter to pay the check, I mentioned the delicious breakfast and the amazingly efficient crew. Discovered that the Atlas Café was family owned and operated. Half the crew was related by blood, the other half by sweat. The cashier was one of the daughters of the owners who worked in the café for decades before the kids took it over. She understood how much more than breakfast and lunch they served. She liked being part of the energy of downtown Tulsa every day.

Six weeks later, I was back in Tulsa again and the rep and I made a point of visiting the Atlas Café. This time it was for lunch between appointments downtown. At lunch, the folks lined up, placed their orders, and then went to their tables where the food was brought to them. The rep and I dutifully waited in the rather long line to place the order. When we got to the cash register, the cashier looked up and said, “Welcome back. You going to be in town for a while?” THAT amazed me. The Atlas Café had a life-long fan at that moment. In subsequent visits, I found out the cashier’s husband is a fire fighter in addition to being a short order cook. Met the Mom. Heard about the kids. My visits to the Atlas Café were always one of the highpoints of each trip to Tulsa.

The crossing-guard reminded me of all of that. I am a traveler. Always have been and likely always will be. Still, I savor those places and enjoy the sweetness of familiarity when my life choices allow it. It is comfort. It is warmth. It is belonging.

Several years ago, I had a few years of a relatively regular commute. While business still had me globetrotting, half my days had the same drive to and from the same place. On those days, McDonalds drive-thru was my stop for morning coffee. Coffee, light and sweet. There was a woman that worked there and she was there almost every time I drove through. After only a few visits, she knew my order would usually be just that large cup of coffee, light and sweet. I pulled up and the voice from the box said, “Good Morning, the usual?” It usually was.

I enjoyed that interface each day. Some small pleasantries as she handed the coffee and I handed the cash. Simple things about weather, health, hair, whatever. Was it sixty seconds? Less? More? Whatever it was, it was right.

When life choices took me elsewhere, I knew that cup of coffee, the usual, from that McDonalds would be one of the things I missed the most. She was the reason. The day that was to be my last day driving through, I made a stop prior and hoped to let her know that she would be missed. She greeted me with, “Hi there. Good morning. The usual?” I said yes and drove up to the window. It was the same routine. She handed me the coffee and I handed her the cash. She looked into the car and noticed something and said, “What a lovely rose. Someone is very special.” Inside, I beamed for that was exactly right. I reached for the rose and the card and said, “You are right. Someone is very special.” I handed her the flower. “Just something to say thank you for starting my day with smile. This is my last time driving through, I am headed to Albuquerque but I wanted to thank you for being so pleasant every day. You make a difference everyday and I really appreciate it.”

As I drove away, she cried. After I drove away, I cried. Sometimes the usual is very special.

Litha 1

The peak of the sun has come for another cycle and the summer is to be savored as we transition to the days of winter. Solstice marks both the beginning and the end but is best seen as the Shift. Shift to savor waning light and warmth of this realm to sustain all when the dark and cold returns.

This is part of the Cycle but also symbolic for there are Solstice type events in all existence. Beyond the cycle of earth and more of the cycle of transitions. Transitions in life states and even existences.

Celebrate the joy of the Shift in ways that befit you. Honor and respect how others do so but make what you do your own. Feel the energy as it pulses and moves with the Cycle. That is what should drive you for energy is for all, tribe and herd. How each processes that energy is what makes each unique. The processing is different. The energy is common. Energy links. Energy defines. Energy is all.

Exit Stage

Lightless Dark.

Soul displayed.

Questioned choices along the way.

Sixteen shows.

Too many towns.

Major Name.

Warm-up clown.

All important.

Deeds well done.

What were you smoking?
What have you done?

Well concealed?

Dream or Fake?

Was it real?

What was the deal?

Smoke the crack.

Roll the pot.

Salute the flag.

Miss the boat.

Open truths.

Believed lies.

Heroes tarnished.

Villains rock.

Hard on you.

Bitter Truths.

Wise man knowing.

What came to pass.

Now is now.

Then was not.

I dance much better than I sing.

Still the song feels like the thing.

Words from poets.

Crack cocaine.

Silent wisdom.

Lyric’ed pain.

Jumpsuits glittered.

TVs popped.

Come the Rising.

Vegas drop.

Center Stage.

No Encore.

Live your demons.

Ignore your foes.

Clip your wings.

Check the time.

Spin the records.

Name that tune.

Dance the jig.

Here

We

Go.

Litha (Use The Light)

Litha begins with the shift. The Calendar marks its beginning as June 21^st. The moment of balance, Summer solstice. A Sabbat and a Solstice, Litha moves seekers into harvest and the preparations for Winter that begins with another Solstice that marks the shift back to the light.

Solstice has been honored since the dawn of time. Mayans marked the turn as did the Druids and Celts. Egyptians knew it and the Greeks and the Romans did as well. Midsummer’s Eve has been written about and celebrated in variations for eons.

Open to what this shift means---that the balance of night and day moves now to the favor of the night. In lore, the Holly King returns to the throne as winter approaches. It moves to the time to harvest and store so that the huddle around the winter’s fire is with food and nourishment. Merriment and wishes mark the days of Litha.

Look to the heavens and celebrate the shift. Move into Litha knowing there is warmth and light to harvest and prepare.

Years ago, this writer and seeker spent a year in Alaska , the land of the Midnight Sun. The arrival in this wonderful land was in June and, ironically I now realize, right around Summer Solstice. A crew picked me up at the Fairbanks Airport just after eight o’clock in the evening. We gathered the bags and stopped for a bite to eat. It was just about midnight when we drove the Parks Highway toward the village of Anderson to begin my year at the radar site nearby.

As we rode, I noticed the light. It was barely twilight even though one day eased away and another began on the calendar. As we approached the Tanana River , we passed a man riding his bicycle, at a very good pace, and waved as did the rider. I looked at my watch and turned to the crew in the vehicle to ask. “It is almost 1 o’clock in the morning. Right?”

They smiled and nodded, knowing the question that would follow. I asked anyway. “What the heck is he doing riding his bike at 1 in the Morning?”

The driver answered for all of the crew--an answer of experience and insight as he said, “He is using the light.” He let the silence sit for a bit and then added. “You will understand.”

After a winter of nights in that magick place, I did understand and still do.

Litha is a time of light to prepare for the days that come.

Use the Light, seekers.

Beltane 20

Knowledge is Power. As this season ends, arm yourself with knowledge for the next. Know your resources. Assess and probe them. Know yourself and assess and probe even there. The very gathering of knowledge enhances power.

Probe. See the answers. Sense the sincerity or lack thereof. Power is knowing and knowing is power. Doors are not to be closed to you. Secrets shared are shifted from separations to connections. It is not just your right, it is your duty.

Savor the unveiling and freedom it gives. Smile and connect as knowing warms all involved, both giving and receiving. Know and know well.

A Rich Man (In Memory Of Richard Dean)

He went fighting. That is not a surprise. Not to me. Not to anyone that really knew him. The Doctors said he was not a candidate for the surgery. He said he was. He did not say what he really thought. “Who died and made you God? Who are you to say I am not worth a few more months of living? Who says I am going go without a fight? Not me, Bozo. So shut up and operate. You have no idea who I am.”

He would have said it years earlier. He mellowed. By his standards at least. I hadn’t seen for a few decades. The first time I met him when was I was fifteen. He was an Uncle to the girl I was dating. The girl that calls me husband almost forty years later. Back then, she merely cautioned me about her Uncle’s. Mo, Billy, and Richie. After meeting them, they seemed more like Moe, Larry, and Curly. In hindsight, they were merely being Uncles. Uncles from New Jersey by way of New York. Uncles that played to the audience and had fun being lovable stooges. Men that were more boys at the time and more men for being boys at the time.

Richie died the other day. The last of the three to go. Billy was the first. My favorite Richie memory involved Billy. It was when Billy joined the Elks and found his other brothers from different mothers in that fraternity. Billy invited us all to an Elks function. A 50s dance when the music was pretty new at being oldies. Billy cautioned us. Especially Richie. “Be nice. Don’t be an idiot, Don’t embarrass me. Especially at Sacred Hour.” Sacred hour came and our table was right under the all hallowed clock that everyone faced when the Sacred Hour, ten o’clock for us mere mortals, was honored. The clock bonged to the silent and reverent crowd as a ritual took place with us pretty much on the altar, Elk wise. Richie thanked us for being nice. He did not thank Richie later when Richie played with the clock and got it to bong at the not so sacred hour of 1;12, right in the middle of “La Bamba”. Richie was like that.

I knew it from the start. After all, he greeted me with an open mouth kiss when he met me the first time. In front of all the relatives. I kissed him back and bent into his embrace. Richie was Offense, meeting the family wise, and I scored a goal with his tongue in my mouth.

He and I talked a few times after that. Just a few. Enough though for me to know his free spirit. He lived life in ways others only imagined. He loved his family in ways few knew and even fewer understood. Richie was as different as they come. The Doctors had not idea who they said was not a candidate for surgery. Maybe he just should have kissed them. Then they might have understood this was a man who lived with every breath he took.

Rest in Peace, Rich.

Love and Kisses,

Gil

Richard Dean July 22, 1939-June 18, 2010

Beltane 19

Much has been purged in the fires of Beltane. The change is palatable in yourself and sensed as such in those around you. You have grown in self as you purged some of the baggage of old. Lightened the load as detractors of doubt burned in the fires of close evaluation.

You have worked and focused and processed and grown. Stronger. That is as Beltane should be. Ostara was of re-birth and was joyous but seems eons ago. Beltane is of purging and cleaning and draws to a close. Successfully. More so than you may realize until you review the changes in self.

You are surer. Stronger. Ready to act in purpose and glory. The fires did not just burn away the rubbish. The fires heated the metal and honed the sword. The fires lit the heat of passion about you and what you were meant to be and will be.

Breathe deep and taste the strength within yourself. Assume your position and move forward in joy and confidence. Beltane ends soon and you used it well.

Five Story Walk Up

The bricks challenged.

Façade with an attitude.

More came before you.

More will follow.

Seven blocks from the ocean.

One bridge away from Downtown.

A place passed if even seen.

Forlorn and forgotten.

Just another five stories no one hears.

They remembered.

Dark things.

Little ones that quit breathing without reason.

Two that had help.

Fights that never really stopped until blood flowed.

Some that went on even after that.

Lonely people gone before others noticed.

Days sometimes.

Weeks one time.

Bricks remembered.

Tagged and repaired.

Tagged and repaired.

Weather beaten and all the heartier for it.

Hit by a Volvo guided by a blind drunk in sixty three.

Newer bricks came and still showed their difference.

Still, red is red and you had to know where to look.

The bricks were cold.

Sun kissed too little.

Shaded too much.

People noticed the Maple Tree.

I noticed the bricks.

The bricks noticed me.

They didn’t care.

Perhaps they never will.

It’s been a long time since anyone cared.

They fit right into the neighborhood.

Dancing With Infinity (Recycled)

Dance with Infinity.

Watch slight of hand.

Juggle so easily.

Eight forms the band.

Dance with Infinity.

Give it the lead.

Rainbow lit pathway.

Swirl spinning seeds.

A one and a two.

A three, four, five.

Dance with Infinity.

Feel so alive.

A one and a two.

Do what you do.

Dance with Infinity.

Jump and then jive.

A one and two.

A three, four, five.

Dance with Infinity.

Alive, Alive, Alive.

Whirl in the dervish.

Things well in hand.

Dance with Infinity.

Strike up the band.

A one and a two.

A three, four, five.

Alive, Alive, Alive.

Feel so alive!

Alive, Alive, Alive.

Feel so alive!

Dance till we die.

Dance till we die.

Dance with Infinity.

Whirl quite the turn.

Dance with Infinity.

Savor the burn.

Dancing Around The Vortex (Recycled)

Dancing around the Vortex.

Living on the edge of the Abyss.

Feel inside the wormhole.

Where nothing else exists.

Know the craving there is endless.

Taste truly eternal need.

Dancing around the Vortex.

Do your best not to slip.

In this place there is nothing.

Hunger and thirst is unbound.

Give when you can’t stop the giving.

Trapped in the pull of the grief.

Pull from its grip on your balance.

Ease back away from its grip.

You’ll find it comes back to find you.

Hoping you can not resist.

Dancing on the edge of the Vortex.

Know all that you can lose.

Be gone and still there will be wanting.

Die and be blamed for leaving too soon.

Become dust revolving the quagmire.

Mere moon around a dead star.

Or stand and step into tomorrow.

Move quickly or you will be done.

Summer Squall

Rain clouds highlight the pond of my tears.

Lightening flashes pulse at my fears.

Summer is hiding behind the decay.

Just stuck in a moment, just not okay.

Brave is more common, don’t like the morose.

No, I’m not crying. Things have been worse.

Just the life changes, choices I live.

Storms still coming, this one just is.

Feeling real human, totally raw.

Cape at the cleaners, more fur than claw.

This will pass quickly, that’s my decree.

Ignore my emotions, just being me.

Beltane 18

Be bold. That is the message for the day. Bold in your questions. Bold in your discussions. Then boldness in your actions will come to pass. Boldness will fuel your confidence and that will in turn fuel your boldness. That is exactly how it should be.

Move beyond the flesh. When the focus is on the flesh, the spirit is limited and cannot soar. This by no means limits your pleasure of the flesh. In fact, just the opposite. Some of you read that from your ego. Moving beyond the flesh means to ask of your past, your health, and your balance instead of just indulging self.

Talks help. Visits help. Research helps. Community helps. The most help comes from self and responsibility thereof. Hold yourself accountable. That is when you grow. In your past, there are answers. Some already embrace them. Some do not and even fear to. Fear not. The unknown will not surprise you for it is truly not unknown. It is just unseen as of yet. Once you see it, you will speak and feel what you wait to hear. Once you hear it, you will hear little else but answers and you will be bold and sure. Once again.

Overdue

She dreamed about my desires and bills that would not be paid.

Eyes unopened in morning, some things she just had to say.

Tents over nothing but desert and specifics she held in reserve.

My blush warmed up her morning as I delivered a breakfast of words.

Stirred wide awake with arousal, the day hints of wet and more cold.

Yet under a bright orange canvas, needs were quite boldly exposed.

Perhaps the charges were bogus, for horizons must speak the truth.

The show of two in another were seeds planted well by their boots.

Fool On The Hill (Recycled)

The fun house floors tilted over the water and I wondered how anything did not drown. Mom whined to get attention and it worked. Dad used his child labor and laughed when it was rubbed in his face. How Nixonian. How weird. We crossed time and space and crossed time and space in the crossing. Crosses were there but if they really were there they were just out of sight. Over the hill. Blacked out. A knight in mourning for the weak. I can see how that would be because that was how things were. Send in the Calvary. Three at a time. Hang em’ high, poke them in the side, and say they are done. This is the feast of ages that starved us while we waited for truth.

The Fool on the Hill let the fools put him there. He spoke without writing and accumulated without selling. His touch was his reach and his stories he told. He waited two sleeps, Easter-egged in a borrowed tomb, then shiny pennied, Ladies first. Thorns and roses and a walk to Emmaus. Roads traveled on Saturday nights that made us late for church. Sleeping Sundays. Rosey Mondays. Ruby Tuesdays. Thank Anyone It’s Friday. Holy Yesterday, Batman. He died a fractioned life when they split his infinitive. He promised a dozen roses and they promised more. “I Amway.” He crossed the T’s and dotted our eyes forever. They nailed the one that nailed it. End game. That’s a wrap. Some think he is hanging around the masses. The masses slept through one too many sure men. Time to pay the piper. This erection. That erection. Resurrection. Round and round we go. No more bets, please. Smoke ‘em, if you got ‘em. Bear your own crosses. There’s plenty to go around.