Riding the Light –

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  • Punching Clouds

    Punching Clouds

    Change is happening quickly for me & I see what the seers have said as a collective: when you can see the change, you become it. I have moved from problem, reaction, solution in a nanosecond to return to harness, willingness, affirmation. What a journey! I didn’t even have to drive across the country to realize the insights.

    The image I keep getting is one of walking through a cloud – lighter than fog in all ways & wispy. I push at the wisps as I go but this one was a huge Mt. Shasta of a cloud. My decision is confirmed all around: the universe wipes its brow. I learned from it! I learned!

    Having the morning off; my paycheck there a day late, but there, my laundry ready to go. Of such is life made … what was that old saying:

    “After ecstasy, the laundry.”

    Morals from this story

    Lessons I have learned from this situation created entirely by me & stuck in my head like a bad song…

    With distance n visitation rights, I choose peace.

    What creates more of that rapidly follows.
    I want to be in love with it all.

    I will ask for help when needed.

    I will confirm conclusions. Have I outgrown the kids – the ones who cause such tomfoolery with my mind?

    Time for senior fartlery. But I’ll fart with love, yeh?

  • Bring Out Your Dead

    Bring Out Your Dead

    Bring Out Your Dead

     I need to love

    To love myself no matter what my shape or where my stars

    I love myself openly, unabashedly, I laugh out loud

    I enjoy my life right now

    I have found the elusive moment & somehow can

    Catch it once in awhile

    Ride it woo hoo!

    I can return it & say thank you

    I need another life –

    You can have this one back.

    I thought it my forever job – the one where

    All the people just pour thru the door

    They ask questions, they leave stuff behind

    I don’t guard it unless I know them –

    I just put it in the lostnfound.

    The weeks roll by like spokes in the wheeling month

    My bespoke time of excited change

    All deflated – the balloon already cut up

    Shreds gathered into cans.

    No communication. I holler down the well

    It echoes back – “Nothing new here either!”

    Cutting loose busily, tongue caught

    In the corner of my mouth

    I saw away. Thought these were better scissors!

    But it doesn’t matter. The right is coming toward me.

    The movement into light & love is just before me

    I am free from hindrance or unlove.

    I do this because I love you enough to let you go

    With a blessing instead of a kick.

    You want to pick it apart,

    Figure out my life & what I do you want so much.

    You want my job? Here you are. You have it!

    I’ll find my way without it for a bit.

    Oh, good luck. I had my own kinda logic

    But it’s like my handwriting; nobody but me understands.

    You can’ understand how far ‘in’ is

    When I say you’re in for it.

    Time moves too fast along the things we want – the

    Shoreline changes & we enjoy a moment.

    The Doldrums hit, time slows down, the clock-hands

    Take forever for one rotation.

    We are dizzy with how it starts to smell rotten.

    This is a familiar pattern: I ride it well

    Accustomed to the ups & downs

    I tell myself I like it – & in a way, I do.

    I find my boundaries again, my spark returns

    I start something new, that wants me to be around.

    This where I am is judgmental: exactly what it is not to be.

    But I hang onto the thorns until I cut myself down.

  • To Hug or Not to Hug

    To Hug or Not to Hug

    To hug or not to hug: that is MY question.

    I come from Italian roots, prolific & notorious huggers. I stand aside from that crowd, kind of pushing my hand out to ward off a hug. Of course, there are some times, places, people, where a hug is organic. Those hugs I like. I distinctly remember this behavior as a child. I hung behind chairs, moving backwards out of reach or behind someone. I was a sylph of a girl, easily lost, a blade of grass. No hugs come to my mind from my Mother. Mothers teach us even when they are no longer here. What was I learning? Is the lesson even [ever] over? Nah. Not when it involves a Mom.

    Where did this culture of hugging come from? It is,
    as I say, not my era. Except when bicycling past the bus depot &
    occasionally under the boardwalk, I did not see hugging. A man with a sign
    & a smile saying, “Free Hugs!!*!” would likely have been hustled to the
    bony corners of Anglesea to rejoin the mainland. Or into the sea itself just
    beyond. Did I learn a kind of isolation from the island? From the gulls who seemed to have it down pat to openly be equal with every other beak in the flock at the exact same moment? To this day, I react viscerally to every gull cry I hear. Did I learn it from books? Yes, indeed. These were, after all, the only reality I had. My refuge & true Sanctuary is the library, still. My first Impression of a Store is not some Bamberger’s but the stationery store. I would open the door, dashed by the air conditioning & the door’s weight both at once, I would pause, once inside before turning to the paper, or trying one or two pens on those 1” square pads stuck into the display. I would wander the tablet aisle hungrily, study the felt-tip pens avidly. I am still of that appetite & tho I actively resist purchase now, I compulsively check the prices on any group of copybooks or journals. Certainly, there were no hugs there – just glancing eyes behind the glass counters.

    The entire wander & wanderlust offered cool respite to a sunburn & a legitimate reason to come in off the beach. It was also ’specially grand on days when the beach would dash up against the sky in windy gusts & the clouds crowd over.

    Always, then to the soda store for a Vanilla Coke & a bag of chips.

    Only if Teri was in town were there hugs for me.



     



  • The Playlist

    The Playlist

    The local no-commercial classical station has pulled out its begging bowls & since I share monthly already, I need no advertising. So, I grab my big folder of CD’s, pull out a playlist of discs & pile them in a lineup.

    First up is Milo, a traveling drum genius who pulled his green bus into T or C for some while where I got to see him every weekend. His music was irresistible for me & I was compelled to dance. I bartered massages with him for his CD’s which didn’t live up to Milo Live.

    Next is Eric Clapton’s “From the Cradle,” a recent flea market acquisition. I thought, “why not?” as I’m a fan, but when music is overplayed like his was, I have limited listening capacity. Turned out to be old dig-in & sway blues. One great CD.

    A break with Snow Patrol’s “A Hundred Million Suns” – also an unexpected pleasure of upbeat, listenable rock.

    A CD of favorites by Josh Groban – a mash from the five CD’s I gave to my neighbor Randy.

    Last for tonight is Neil Young & Crazy Horse on “Ragged Glory.” And it might not last. Neil tends to get repetitive with music, the same riffs & lyrics repeated to yawn. But I’ll see what I can tolerate.

    Loveya

    Carol

  • Memory Aside

    Memory Aside

    A Little Night Music

    I emerged one last time into the night before going to sleep yesterday… going to bed for the first time, that is. I sat in my blue chair & finished some tobacco. One drop of water fell onto my upturned wrist; Youniverse choosing anonymous me for this gift: water in the desert. I offer thanks for this reminder of my being so beloved. I returned indoors, finished the e-mails & turned out the lights, turned off the radio & thought to go to sleep.

    (My dear friend, Becky, has gifted me with a satellite music subscription. I have been listening for days, reviewing my life by means of these musical touch-points at the push of a button. They call it a remote, but it fits my hand like the wand of a conductor orchestrating the world.)

    Since music enters the brain architecture in a textured sort of way, it seems to stick to the convolutions most lovingly, capable of not only instant recall, but instantaneous placement in my life-stream. As when my friend Kermit, who plays trumpet, played an old favorite one night, I heard everyone who had recorded it. When he played “Michelle”, I heard only the Beatles.

    When I worked atop the third-floor refurbished house in Haddonfield, New Jersey, I listened to classical music all day. On a busy street corner and with many deadlines, Mozart kept me organized & productive.

    At my last job in Nashville, Tennessee, I listened to “massage music” all day, Stephen Halpern, R. Carlos Nakai, Peter Kater. These kept me sane under insane conditions.

    I could ramble around the radio all night, but I resolutely turned it off & pulled the covers up.

    Outside, the New Mexico night tossed in gusty winds. The stars remained invisible, indicating a high thin cloud cover from which that single drop had emerged. Sleepless still at midnight, I rolled from the covers for a cup of chai & some chocolate, as restless as the low trees doing a hula outside. (The Sandman must have delayed his arrival, perhaps sitting on his haunches by the river, breathing.)

    For a breath, I opened the bathroom window, the wind being a constant off the Rio Grande at night. I breathed in moisture, a balm to sinuses, throat, lungs. Austin Street glistened in a thin sheen of water, inch-deep puddles in the ruts of a sun-melted roadway. The “walking rain” had hastened by, leaving mostly the perfume of her passing.

    I turned on the light, surrendering sleep to the pen rattling atop the notebook in its eagerness to be uncapped, fondled, held forth to leave its own darker gleam across the dry, bright paper. It’s 1:00 a.m. & I begin this blog.

    Somewhere along this later way I have turned on the radio again. I know on the inside I only got up to listen to this music some more.

    Forgive me if you have read me saying this before. When I was asked once where I hope to “go” when I die, I replied, “to the place of old song lyrics.” The surprised, “Why?!” didn’t catch me unaware. I answered “because then I’ll live forever.”

    I write in red ink, mildly annoyed for myself already that I’ll need to decipher this tomorrow, er , later today. If I get up for a black pen I might as well get the computer & I cannot look into that particular Ouija Board right now.

    All these words later …

    The rain has come & gone. My eyes want to close; Sandman has caught me up now. I still don’t want to turn the radio off.

    Good night.

  • Yesterday’s Thinking

    Yesterday’s Thinking

    I read that the history being taught today is shockingly lacking. Students are not learning about wars (my first school years are full of dates of wars, memorized at the rubber tip of a pointer against my throat.)

    Haven’t I said lately tho, that we need to let all of this history go? We need to “forget” the conflicts, the hatreds, the terrible lack of love shown to so many & especially the most helpless among us – children, animals & the environment. Until we can lay down the conflicts & the big sticks we all carry in case of conflicts, we will never find the grace to forgive others or ourselves. We will carry genetically our guilt & our shame for doing what’s been done in the world – regardless of how & why.

    Granted, it all seemed necessary to stop some ideology or another. It almost didn’t matter what, if it mattered that we did not like it / approve of it / value it as our own. Until we release trauma & the emotional effects of trauma, it will ride us to our knees. It’s really difficult to make progress from that position.

    I read the new children are the “Adam Kadmom” race come to be incarnate – brand new souls never before in a body. No wonder they refuse to accept war & the effects of hatred. No wonder they simply cannot retain this much “awful” in their burgeoning worlds. How could they, fresh to a body so ready to experience & dwell in healing, light, love, betterment, even consider there might be an underside so black?

    I still find it so difficult that what society says it loves it is so eager to repossess with a snarl. A caress becomes claws out, blood drawn over the smallest provocation. Where is our ready peace? Why doesn’t nature reflect love back at us? How are we on that score?

    And of course, I’m writing to those already knowing better & not necessarily practicing these habits. But the topics just keep coming up & repeating.

    I put my money on the “new folk” pushing their way into the limelight of the world. I bet the newest harmonies will take over the field of classics in the shortest time ever, influencing Light to dance & move out among the rest of the races & the world in a startling eagerness to display, to disport, to dismantle what was for what will be & is now & can.

    Let us place our energetic bodies squarely behind this movement, push as though tomorrow does not exist in the same way it forever has. All of time itself, is new & moving through the Earth like bells carrying a Sunday morning to the neighbors.

    We are all called to make change. Let us allow this new change to flourish & fulfill & pry us from the narrow boundaries within which we now function. Let us finally embrace universality as the fascinating topic it is – discovering how it fits in at this time as we eliminate evil & reverse the darkness by revealing the light of the Within.

  • Letter Up [hit Reply]

    Letter Up [hit Reply]

    This information is awakening. Thank you for putting it out here.

    I find it probable we are so ready for this change that there will be a recognition & a surfacing of love in an energetic force. Light has its own capacity to meet & vanquish darkness & I see much in the world which will simply no longer exist once its spectrum is gone. The other side, we might agree, is “going down,” There will be a lot more options opening once that one disappears (like an old radio that no longer picks up a station …)

    We arrived in this predicament / entanglement & helped in its recognition – the “re-thinking” of an old concept, good vs. evil. But this re-examination brings us to the edges of our humanity. All these centuries of evil & light has always paced it. Light is outpacing it now & I may be naive, yet I’ll tag along with light rather than its alternative.

    Darkness is a tech rapidly being outpaced by that of Light. The contracts are voided & now being voiced. Replaced.

    Those changes accompanied by science? Once it is grasped that the science has been so loaded against life, the scales will tip as trust turns inside out.

    Nothing about this is simple, but I believe much has been done to render it harmless because the changes in magnetics, in light frequency, in color spectra, will all have an effect on this physical body. There is so much change already in motion – either grab the safety strap or grab for the gold ring.

    Choose the outcome you wish to see because our faces have been forced into “theirs” too many times. We can’t achieve the new (never seen before by anyone near our generations) with present thinking. That’s a venerable given. Making the leap toward what we want is what humans usually do, after all.

    My best to you & keep your news coming!

  • Nineveh

    Nineveh

    My whole world is wrapped in a piece of tinfoil & napkin

    that which i save from breakfast, a future sandwich

    not properly wrapped but stock for a day when a piece of tinfoil

    is more valuable than this awful styrofoam they litter me with.

    My combatant streak rises: my warrior adjusts her helmet

    charging in, clanging on the doors with a cheap metal fork

    I assail the castle to no avail for no reason, a noise born of none hearing.

    My voice laced with Jonah’s, bringing change to Nineveh.

    As though I matter here … it is a recall to 3D, a solid time, footprints

    appear where none were before.

    My changes of heart bear Witness to All That Is

    Changing, tugging on the Matroyoshka dolls which one by one

    pop open to one another.

    My largeness made small when I look & look & look.

  • A Day for Me

    A Day for Me

    A day for me

    No chai by the bay today. One lingering basket of laundry, folded damp & left on the bed. One trip to the shoe store but no Earth Origins I like. A longing for ice cream – an old afternoon treat – & I told myself to watch for Friendly’s as I passed it along the other side of the highway. No ice cream, but I have blueberries & yogurt at home.

    A walk to the development across the street, down their narrow winding path outside the privacy fence. Beautiful plantings to either side bracket the path which suddenly opens into housing with no fences, the community center with its full frontal garden, the water feature with a starburst spray. Time to do qigong. Time to balance.

    Time to sit on the marble bench & find the single blue shell, the tipi-shaped shell.

    An organically rainy day. Drops borne on a slight breeze or dripped from overhead. Melodic & irregular, Crows wing overhead with calls to each other. I sit outside & watch the storm forming overhead. The white to steel-blue, to dark gray in gathering intensity.

  • Conversations with Heart

    Conversations with Heart

    ABLUTIONS 

    How marvelous is water,

    gracious being forced through pipes,

    ejected through faucets

    Still, on contact with any sort of life at all, comes into itself

    Its spirit runs over us, pours into us

    A coverage so vast, no crevice may hide

    A tenderness for my poor body’s contortions.

    I have a print of ornate baths in mine

    Clawed tubs which made taking a bath

    Even naughtier … each has a rack for reading

    Or wine… who did not enjoy a bath?

    Obviously, people spent a lot of time in them.

    This morning was no exception for me

    I even had time to dry between my toes

    So much time, my hair dried in the mohawk

    From a rub with the towel.

    ———————————————————-

    NO WONDER THIS IS A CIRCUS TOWN

    I sit indoors looking directly out

    I sit in my Henry Chair looking out over

    Hopeful pansies & ubiquitous green

    When drawing to my eye, in the exact center

    Of the frame is a red blossom

    Nodding to the nearby palm

    Stretched over the tall brown fence.

    No one walks that patch of land: the drain

    But I wonder if the sound of leaving water

    Drew the flower to come for a surer look.

    ———————————————————-

    WHY ME, LORD?

    A born teacher brimming with knowledge

    Timed out in a world where philosophers are shot

    Poets unborn in their wake.

    How did I ever decide I wanted to tangle,

    To wrangle 3D?

    Well, you made this decision. We only helped you

    Separate from the All – remember? Birthing?

    Getting into the thing is hard but

    Getting it to move is another matter at all.

    Lord, I been here more than seventy plus years

    Where nothing has changed. I have watched the

    Red Tide of life close in on itself in an ever-tightening spiral.

    I would sure like to say that is isn’t my fault

    But I have culpabililty & small thinking tattooed in

    Primary areas.

    You have changed is all that matters

    For truly we are One, it’s not a Big Lie

    Just so hard to see through all that interference

    Your world’s got goin’.

    Talk me to more, Spiritus, every day

    Bring me red flowers.

    ———————————————————-