everything is a cycle

all of his new girls.

they all look like she did.

back then.

back when she was sick.

back when she lay dead.

in the garden.

with the roses.

with one hand on her mouth.

and one hand on her heart.

Death sentence

He wishes he could forget
that Autumn in the Midwest
where childhood desire bloomed
and the greenery slowly died.

Her eyes burned like an opal
at dusk - in the setting sky,
he could never look away.
He could never fight the trance...
the lust... the magic... the darkness...
that danced inside her

He watched helplessly
His hands turn from green
to yellow
to red
to brown
to dead
in her cold palms

He wishes he could forget that
Autumn in the Midwest
when le magique of a girl
drowned the fire in his soul.

He wishes he could forget...

We leave here the same way we came

"Death is the ego's biggest lie. In fact, what God created is eternal. Your body can perish, but your spirit cannot. There is no death. The Son of God is free."
-A Course In Miracles

More sad news today....
My Grandma Rose's sister, my Great-Aunt Helen, made her transition back into the arms of Our Father God.
She has battled cancer, one too many times, and her body was obviously tired. She was ready to release her sick body to transition into the next life - free of pain and disease. To be a free Soul, to dance amongst the angels, once again.

She was an important part of my life growing up. Every Saturday, when I was around seven years old, I use to be on a country line dance team with her and my Grandma... we'd even perform at State Fairs and other silly Midwestern-thangs like that. I guess you can blame that early up bringing on why to this day I am still a true cowgirl at heart <3 Even as I got older, she always made a point to attend all of my recitals and ballet performances. I still remember the joy and pride in her eyes when she saw me perform my first lead role in a company ballet performance; as the Scarecrow in the ballet version of The Wizard of Oz. She was like another Grandma to me. I also owe to her the love of having my arms 'tickled' on that one time my Mom was in the hospital [or maybe it was when my Grandma was getting surgery? my memory is failing me right now] and Aunt Helen sat in that awful teal-sterile-waiting-chamber, tickling my arms - for hours- calming my lifelong 'Hospital Anxiety.' When one of her hands would get tired from all the stroking, she'd make me jump in to the seat on the other side of her so she could use her other arm. No one will ever give me the 'sqwigglies,' as I liked to call them, like she did.

Last week when I was home in Detroit, she made a 'turn for the worse,' and ended up in Hospice care and my Mom kept saying we should go see her before I came back to the city because it would probably be the 'last time.' Being the optimist that I am, I didn't want to believe it'd be the last chance to see her, and I didn't make an effort to go say 'Goodbye,' to tell her how much she meant to me, to tickle her arms and relieve her of the chronic pain she was in. I'll never be able to get that opportunity back, and I feel SO selfish. SO guilty. SO mad at myself, for [like fucking usual!] being too wrapped up in my petty self absorbed life to make the effort. Now it's too late, now I can only hope she can 'hear' me, only hope she knew how much I really did appreciate her presence in my life.

I am thankful she is no longer in pain, I am thankful she is free of a body full of disease, a body that no longer serviced the free spirit inside of her. I am thankful she has another chance to be reborn, to dance, to be free and joyful like I will always remember her to be. I hope she is doing the 'Boot-Scootin'-Boogy' into what'ever next life she is moving in to - maybe teaching another angel or two how to stomp her boots like a real cowgirl! I love you Aunt Hellen.


Our Father, bless our eyes today. We are Your messengers, and we would look upon the glorious reflection of Your Love which shines in everything. We live and move in You alone. We are not separate from Your eternal life. There is no death, for death is not Your Will. And we abide where You have placed us, in the life we share with You and with all living things, to be like You and part of You forever. We accept Your Thoughts as ours, and our will is one with Yours eternally. Amen.

“One certain effect of war is to diminish freedom of expression.”

Two very influential men have made their transition this week.
RIP Howard Zinn and JD Salinger

Howard Zinn's "The People's History of the United States," and numerous of Salinger's short stories [and of course 'The Catcher In the Rye'] made quite an impact on me during my high school education - I guess you could give them some credit for getting my mental clock ticking. But, now- I look at the assortment of writers, directors, artists, and leaders that we have to pick-and-choose from in our current global crisis - a paradigm I like to call: 'OH SHIT! WE'RE FUCKED', and I often wonder who will use their voice for an honest cause? Who will leave a legacy as great as the revolutionaries who paved the road for us to live such a liberated lifestyle? [but also left us with a big fucking dump to clean up!] Who will get up off their lazy asses and start making a scene?






"Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."