Them’s my apples.

What’s the problem today?
I need a ball gown or tuxedo.
 Is it a problem?
No, it’s a fucking Cinderella story.
Is it your problem?
Only if I allow it to be.

We share our problems with our stories. Indefinitely reminiscing great recollections and expectations of the past and future. Snow White, Hester Prynne, Cinderella, Dorothy, and go
ask Alice. We find slivers of our stories woven throughout time, taking on renewed meaning with each embodiment.

My particular perspective happens to be is encased in the female form and perhaps conditioned through lifetimes of what that means and how that interfaces with not just the world, but the universe.

Our stories gather momentum, creating energy, tipping scales in every direction. Thoughts, feelings, emotions move through us. What is our problem today? Is it a problem? Is it your problem?

The Divine Feminine shares information in many incarnations not only maternal exclusively. You, me, doesn’t matter. It’s us and we. Look, here’s the big secret; the power of life will continue, Mother Earth will do what is necessary to create balance and achieve homeostasis. Once you and me become we, it is easier to recognize the magnitude of our shared power and shared insignificance. We live within and surrounded by an infinite sea of energy, sharing information in many manifestations. How do we use it?

I for one am relishing in my not problems and solutions. It is rewarding to recognize things for what they are and move toward broader solutions that takes on all  bit by bit to become whole.

Misdirection.

you’ve had it all along
no less, no more
special than
you are now
misdirection
circumvent
another deal
another sound
interference
re-entry bound
in truth already come
those thoughts they do run
in circles
meeting prose
retreating heads and masters
make robust matter
of brass and bronze and dust
making out
it seems
make fist, imagine, or fuck
I don’t even have to care
looking up
kneeling before, take chance
records or voice
reality appeals
scared only of choice

 

Educated Guest.

Educated guest
Given to take
The only way I can help  
To be honest 
Playing with self 
Mineral minded
Mead with Taurus
China breaks 
Finite flourish 
Educated mess
Supple grimace makes 
Hope for false ovation 
Grand scale, set sail
Rising and falling is but only a matter of perspective 
Indivisible greater 
Windows of bough
Cut away to open 
Sparkling through 
Devouring lessons 
Burning higher 
Educated guest
Atoning sits best
Regression setting fire
Circumstantial treasures
Shines been mired 
Assurance revisits 
Bent on the pyre

Fuck it.

 I do believe most people on this struggling planet are at least at, “Fuck it.” Happy twenty-seventeen. I am at doing. I like to give each year a single word to reflect on. Doing. I like to think it’s a subtler form of “fuck it.” Turns out I have been doing, but the thing of it is, you just keep at it, keep doing. Grow big or go home. Growth in any area of life offsets balance, creates moments of bliss and times of challenge.  There were once moments I would announce “I must love a challenge.” Be careful what you wish for kids. Sarcasm, literally knows no bounds.

  Amusing, challenging, striving, and surviving don’t lend well to a resume. That’s where my mind was a year ago. Thirty-something, physically ill a majority of the time, slowly becoming jaded and at my wit’s end. That encompassed most of my thoughts, because I wasn’t thinking of growth, I was allowing myself to stagnate in fear. There will always be limitations, but they don’t need to be held in mind. Growth overcomes many cycles. Heart and mind view doing differently. Listen to them both, do they quarrel? Where do your vibrations take you? Abundance in all things and thoughts how they grow.

Here’s looking at you twenty-seventeen, doing it to it.

Doing Beings.

  I am so grateful for running water, indoor plumbing, my son’s health and my own. I said that very last sentence to a co-worker once, she replied, “it’s good to live the simple life.” I could go on, but I like to start from the top. It’s not the first I’ve heard that comment. Less like holders of time we’ve all turned up to be. Perhaps for some they are grateful for wine and chocolate first. Alkaline spring water, that’s the next on my list of gratitude. Yes, I will pay 99 cents per gallon to well over $4. That’s my water into wine. I enjoy and I am grateful for options. We have choices and options how to use our life force. It is good to enjoy the simple life.

  I am currently thirty-three years old. I used to think I would only make it this far in my current form. No joke. A writer once told me perhaps I’d read far too much into Jesus thing. Yeah, well, even with all the therapy in the world, I have decided I just don’t need to know. It started when I was nine. I thought this may be my last year on Earth. But who would’ve thought it would be for so many others, so many. 2016 was very much a revival and rebirth for me after years of a severe sense of imbalance.

  A few years back during my divorce I decided movement would be the best thing for me. I moved myself into a new home, I learned how to hula hoop, I made new friends, I took a couple belly dancing classes, I did my best to create a community of support around me, I moved on with my life. More than words, it was my actions that was vital and necessary to bring me to where I am now. Doing me.

  I am going to say it again. Movement is here. We are quickly learning this New Age has something in store of us all. Changes are always in flux. How do you use your life force, work force, thought force? Where do you pour your focused energy? Do it to it. It’s 2017, the future is now. How is that working out for yah? What are you going to do about it? I know I need to be present moving forward and I will continue grow and keep the spirit alive. Being the best me and doing the changes I want to see. Here’s looking at you, twenty-seventeen.

As Seen.

Watch the tube
Channeling surf
Right in the palm
Left in two
Handing ground
Fistful of weight
Speed of dark
Cleansing floors
As seen
Muted mauves
Woven thick
Unlike skin
Embracing a taste
Avoids waste
Renewables wait
Worth empowering
Distribution of might
Decorative logs
Lead to gold
With singing vowels
Stories left untold
Hope for naught
In fiction we trust
Novel struck
The paper thrown
Meeting with the maker
Hands off
Ensue and enrich
The candlestick blues
Capital bound
Prepared and drowned
Dishes the bowl
Jump over the moon
Before they run off with the spoons
Cradling thoughts
Pausing for the beat to drop
Using the right to tune in
Choosing irreverent remains and cash crops.

Push it.

 It was honestly, while listening to Anthony Bourdain describe how in the 1960s, Deep South Records in Miami, FL was a “A doo-wop all their own”, that I sat down to share these words. I had been watching CNN most the day, watching their live coverage and reporting on the fire at Ghostship in Oakland, CA. It got me thinking about all the musicians, artists and places I’ve been all over Vallejo and East and West Oakland over the last couple decades. So many inspiring, real, honest, beautiful people. So many bright beautiful abundant lights. I was beyond compelled to use the power of my life to write this and allow all of this wash over me. All of the pain, all of the sorrow, all the confusion, anger. Connect with it. Allow the control to let go and let it move you the way you need to be. 

  I just read on LaShanda Green of Higher Purpose Healing‘s, Instagram today a quote of Gabrial Roth, “The fastest, cleanest, most joyful way to break out of your own box is by dancing. I’m not talking about doing the stand-and-sway. I’m talking about dancing so deep, so hard, so full of the beat that you are nothing but the dance and the beat and the sweat and the heat.” So much healing I have done dancing in the heart of East Bay, so much healing that is happening in the thriving artist communities in these spaces. Places that provide resources, community, and economy. Rent creeps going up in these areas. I am forever thankful beyond these, the holidays, to be safe and sound living with family and humbled by so much reality unfolding. 

  To hear them announce on CNN Live initial number of lives that were lost in the Oakland fire and then in the same sentence hear their breaking news of the U.S. Government denying a permit for the Dakota Access Pipeline to dig it’s oil pipes under Standing Rock Sioux Sacred Land that has been under Native protection for much of this year was astounding. Anytime I now hear or see the word “protest”, I utter sounds of detest. Defense is not a protest. Empowerment and enlightenment are no protest. Where is the outrage? It is here. These are some divine times to be living. Live it. Revolutions are not as they say, born overnight. Seeds have longer been cyclical, everything, we all. Round and bound to bare a soul.

  I have so many things to say. So many things amiss, everything changes. Life happens. Live it. I promise to do my best to make mine happen with we in mind. Give and take, on the backs of many break. This internet, this remarkable tool. Find your power and lets all give a good push in a revolutionary direction.

  

So Many.

Problems.
You have got some.
Problems.
I have too.
Come and get none.
So many.
Resisting peace.
Will get none.
Rehearse the reverse.
Might have felt some.
Feelings live out.
Return to all.
Reliving meaning.
Forget the small.
Upper echelon hiding.
Gotta cache ’em.
Heavy metal.
Stacks them.
Quantifying masters hang on.
Obey the third & fourth Ray.
Hoping for lessing restrictions.
Inspiring lessons.
Never done teaching you.
Problems.
We got to work through.
React to show we is tuned.
Buy this.
Opportunity.
Ideas ring.
Truth.

Rebirth.

Founding mothers
Apple hearts and prudent tarts
Each bite conclude one thing
Pleasing hips and sugared quips
You never know what I mean
Contradicting 
First
World ripping
Honored puzzles
Reclaiming piece
Second
Winds rise
Paper for those
Presuppose
Make sense of thinking
Third
Holy smoke and waters choke
This is how I come clean
Painful grins pour
Forth
Wooden ladle drips
Each taking turns
Markets further yearn
Fifth
Creation bliss
Slight of man
Rebirth
The ride
Narrow as wide

Be Here Now.

Suppressing golden shadows
Fleece to fit
True denim grip
Well mannered protons spill
Heights to ground
Limbs desiring soft and round
Uneven oddity stars
Adjacent peril
Enchanted reflections dip
Suited formally
Enrobed in fiction
Like moths to a stain
Bright knowledge refrain
Unfurling contractions
Sheared to skin
What holds you know only begins
Encoded split
Sound the sheath
Rivers ending deep
Panning in the shallows
Oil for life
Formed here after
Charred wicks
Glossy sparks
Before the snuff
Don’t allow what once was be here now