Jingle Bells
We go as Plaid Men;
Riding in Twisted Cargo
Smoking Cigars on a Green Fern Embargo.
We rise for the Sun & Decay in the Dawn
our Faces are Strawberries; our Fingers are Gone

We go as Plaid Men, we rise up as Nuns
we cave in as Children, Lovers, Cinnamon Buns
There is nothing to Stop us, We’re never in Heat;
We shave our sweet faces and swallow Burnt Meat
Our sisters before us have Salvaged the Road,
The Innocent meet Strangers, the Silver buys Gold.
The Dawn of Intention, heals the midnight Decay;
We go as Plaid Men
as Housewives we stay.

Been There Before ...

Jingle Bells
Sing our Moments’ Repent
The Serpent sinks in Leather
The Kitchen Water is Spent
The Dollar is Sideways,
A coin in the Lock
The Only Key we could Turn
was the Face of the Clock

We go as Plaid Men
Twisted in Corks
we sing our songs sideways
and eat Knives & Forks
The song that we Knew
is the one we Forgot
as the Ancient of Mariners
Drowns at the bottom of the Pot

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The Art of Eternal Childhood

An email from an old friend. He’s in the throes of raising an 11-year old daughter – amazed by the pure and vital energy of childhood – and asks, “why have we lost this as adults…?”

My answer would be, we haven’t lost this, but we’ve left this. We’ve left this for a set of distractions, protections & consequences that effectively annihilate our chances of returning to the place of innocence, possibility and magic that we knew as children.

As a child, I always knew there was something suspicious, inauthentic and dangerous about the adult character in general. We all know a lot as children, and have access to an amazing range of “emotional intelligence” – intuitive, perceptive and creative capabilities. We sense and live in the spontaneous and ongoing beauty of childhood; we don’t understand or comprehend the “hardening” that has masked and throttled the authority figures around us.

As we grow older, we silently, agreeably adopt and adapt – internalizing all the subtle toxicities and poisons that are handed to us on silver platters: ego, emotional suppression, material obsession, power acquisition & manipulation, playing the proper game and saying the proper words at the proper time – in the proper tone of voice. We learn to obey the Kings of the Adult Architecture: bosses, families, spouses, preachers, pundits and obligations … all at the cost of our own soul.

My own personal journey into Adulthood was interrupted by a “side-trip” into the Land of Self-Knowledge. A side-trip which became the Journey of Life Itself. All the other “main trips” eventually panned out as distractions and misadventures; the subtle and frail voice that pulled me into the heart of Knowing Self, became the most powerful, beautiful, joyful and insightful voice in my being.

Part of the process of Knowing Self seemed to be the reconnection and resurrection of the lost inner child, that – it turns out – is really “me”, after all. The “sweet part” of us, it turns out, is still very much alive, and simply waits like a long lost seed, in the deepest cavern of our hearts, for springtime to return.

But, yes, life presents the challenge of feeling somewhat unique and alone in your “child-craft”; your innocence, beauty and magic seek others to play with – others to share the innate beauty of life with – but, alas, such companions are few and far-between. Most so-called “adults” are busy with the concern of the “adult world” – politics, money, relationship frustrations, sarcasm, jadedness and various mixes of toxic distraction and approved anesthetics.

It does make you value what you do have: access to your own inner song. It makes you value the few companions in life who can indeed share your hearts’ journeys. It makes those moments of play, delight, rainbow-watching, flower-sniffing …. all that much more precious, fragile, fragrant and delicious. And, last but not least: it makes you savor your True Companion, the inner friend you’ve known all along, the one who has been and will be with you every step of the way.

So, the celebration of Eternal Childhood seems to be where it’s at for me.

Sorry, other stuff bores me.

I just don’t have the time be be “grown up” anymore.

The field of life awaits, and it’s brilliant with a million colored flowers.

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The Subtle

“The Subtle”.

This subject is not commonly addressed.
It is not commonly addressed, because it is not common Knowledge, it is known only by a few.

I talked with a friend the other day, about the depth of conversation. About the comfort-zone we achieve with another person in the context of dialogue.  One criteria we used was, how comfortable is a person “in their own skin”.   This quality speaks of a person’s relationship with Self.   The other parameter was a person’s relationship with Silence, how comfortable they are in entering Silence – again – in the context of dialogue.

So, talking and conversation occupy a whole range of human expression.

At one end of the scale, the “loud-mouth”, the one-way dialogue.  Or, the animated, self-centered “fluffy” conversation about the superficialities of life: often a nervous attempt to stave off the dreaded Tide Of Silence – as though Silence was a natural enemy, a cloaked vampire waiting at the door.

On the other end of the scale, people who somehow are at ease, both with Self and Other; people whose thoughtful pauses are conversations unto themselves.  People who convey entire manuscripts simply with a raised eyebrow, a soft smile, a deep resonance in their tone-of-voice.

These latter statements speak of people who are not only at peace with “Self”, but who also have a relationship with The Subtle – the invisible and humble counterpart of human existence that dwells in us all.  This counterpart has been described in many ways, has been burdened with many labels, name-tags and qualifiers over the ages.

We are not interested in adjectives.

We are interested in living in, celebrating and sharing the felt sense of this Inner Guest, this hidden counterpart.  We are interested in enjoying, manifesting, and realizing this felt sense, as a statement of a Life Lived.

When we share with other human beings, when we connect with others, we bring something of quality to the table. Something of the Taste of Silence.  The Fragrance of The Guest.  The celebration of the Subtle, in its Nameless Name, its Formless Form, and its enduring Beauty.

Of all human endeavors, this is one of the most worthy, the most honorable, the most sweet.

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The Change into Self

I was speaking with someone and the topic of selfishness came up.

So I have a few things that have rambled through my head on this particular subject, and I wanted to jot them down, in case there was anyone who had an interest. Also because sometimes when you are too full, one needs to empty the glass so it can be cleaned and made useful for some other draught.

Being “selfish” is a big subject, as the self naturally tends to want to know itself. In the usual sense we have crammed the self with information and goods, till really it cannot stand alone as it naturally is, for it has so many attachments, like some massive octopus with all these suckers attached to its arms. Give me, give me, give me, has become the human beings main motto.

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The Moon In Cancer

I am in Caregiver Mode.

Someone close to me was recently diagnosed with cancer.

This has stirred up a lot of things. The life that we live is largely routine. Even the ways we try to get deeper, more ‘inside’, more ‘connected’, becomes a routine. Then suddenly something knocks on our door. A wake-up call. These things happen.

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Big difference

That which is for you a poem for me is not,

that which is a poem for me for you is not,

that which is for you a truth for me is not,

that which is a truth for me for you is not,

that which is for you a peace for me is not

that which is for me a peace for you is not,

that which is for you love, for me is not,

that which is for me love for you is not,

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