Havoc

Building my pyramid of resolve. Each day this week I am actualizing former, half-chewed treats that will satisfy my more divine self. Being a past perfectionist I realize that I often give up because I am afraid I will fail. I have failed at things-some pretty major things. This is not a waste of time nor does it mean that I have to start from ground zero (okay, so complete failure doesn't really exist). That is why I am picking up the pieces. Yesterday I added more exercise. Today I am exercising more and forgiving myself. Tomorrow I will exercise, forgive and __________. Each morning I am meditating on what the next block will be. My ultimate goal is to scale the pyramid, standing in a higher place, always seeing more and finding more things to love. I'm starting with me. And I'm starting now so that I am not overwhelmed on New Year's Day.

The little drummer girl

My father and his brother used to drink whiskey and smoke those cheap little cigars on occasion. Uncle John always saved his cigar bands until he had enough to cash in on a catalog gift. One Christmas season he proudly gifted us a white pleather book that bore gold edged leaves and very large gold letters that spelled

HOLY

BIBLE.

Once this gift was given to our family, my dad and my uncle would sit reading through the big white book. They came to the realization that our church was not on the same page as so many things that they were reading. This actualization set our family on a journey to fulfill the longing for truth that was kindled in my dad, by this large fake-skinned book.

More than four decades have passed and my own reincarnations have taken me from a belief in bible thumping theologies, to an atheism born from desperation, to a realization that if god is love, then he/she/it/them/US must learn to love based on faith, not fear that is labeled faith. If god is truly love then god would not want us to obey him, but rather wait, longingly, for us to understand love and come to it naturally and by choice.  How could anything else be love?

So many of the stories that we are given via religious instructions are exactly that-stories. Vehicles to make a point or draw a picture that results in our little noggins lighting up. We fail when we believe these stories to be the truth and believe that our faiths are to be based on their specifics. The fact that so many people don't realize the inaccuracies of the hole-y bible due to translation errors or blatant manipulative deletions which suited the churches, saddens me. The fact that people don't even want to know that the myth of Jesus coming to earth to save the world, and being born of a virgin, is just a copycat of  the tale of Mithra, the Persian deity that preceded Jesus by a few hundred years, puzzles me. We celebrate the birth of Jesus on a day that wasn't even his birthday. We skew his words and hang our morals and blind faith on these rusted nails which crucify his true messages- to be compassionate  and to love one another as if we were god (for we are god). The very metaphor of the holy trinity tells me that I am the wisdom, the yearning and the essence of god. This is what I believe Jesus told us, and more poignantly, what my gut nugget tells me is the truth. 

I have marched with the masses to the beat of "faith"-sanctioned laws, but now (drum roll, please...) I dance, skip and jump because I am free to be love. There is no way to save yourself by spouting prescriptive prayers or rhetoric, or to "come" because they told me.

Keeping Christ in Christmas pales for me, in exchange of a more enriched plan to keep his true teachings in every season, day, minute and second of my life.

rum pum pum hum bug...

The right to bear harm

Drugs kill. They're illegal.

Drunk driving kills. It's illegal.

Everyone knows that poison kills. So we don't use it.

You have the right to protect yourself by owning weapons. Where are the rights of sweet little victims or their families? Your right kills, maims and steals from billions, the right to peace. Of course, those sweet little children can rest peacefully now, as they enjoy a new freedom- in a place where guns can no longer harm them.

It's never too late for love.

It's never too late to say you're sorry, to pick up the pieces or to mend a broken bridge.

It's never too long, to have forgotten the magic, or to capture it once again.

It's never too late to show you care, to live the thought you thought before.

It's never too late to say I love you, or I need you  or I missed you.

If you do.

steamy dream

In the naked truth
in the musky warmth
of flesh hugging flesh
of soul tasting soul
bursts the safety of us
Plunging into the aplomb
of knowing
where love melts the ugliness
of me in what I see
in your eyes

hold my heart tonight

DJ 12.06.12

It was all new like an early morning's untouched blanket of pristine snow. There was a sweet, newborn baby swaddled in fresh, clean, crisp, white cotton nestled in sheets of the same.

There was me in the midst of it all. All is new. All is perfect and beautiful just as it is. There is never a lack of opportunity or the chance to be pure and better.