A little snapshot of a poem I wrote recently.
From the sacred
Mania and domination
History and habit
I have seen the unseen
The same blindfold
Fallen from grace
Mother Earth gives life to energy
Blindfolds falling off
I opened my heart
That my breath
Is my spirit
Journeying into transcendent realms
Into a distant heaven
Illusion is our blindfold
I was recently talking to a Bay Area native about music. Do you know how rare it is to meet a native of the Bay Area? Well, a native of anywhere? We are constantly all moving, and wandering the planet for one reason or another. Our talk? Music.
Now I can get down with most types of music. So open your ears, and open your eyes. Sometimes you may just find something that you’ll really like. His goal… turning me on to some Pat Metheny.
The man… silver hair pulled back into a braided pony tail. Apple cider vinegar a day type. His cousin learned guitar from Jerry Garcia. He protested with black panthers in Berkeley and Oakland. He lived through the crack epidemic brought on my you know who, and lives to tell about it.
The movie, “Soul” by Pixar brings up the recent Jazz topic too. Perhaps the newest hot button lately? Escaping your conscious into subconscious with jazz. Look at the painters who lose themselves in jazz while painting, or the writers who lose themselves in writing… with a beat rolling and jumping and flying and diving.
It is now that I really know what this guy is talking about. So… forget your typical sound baths with crystal bowls. Well, don’t forget about it, if you like it … then keep on keeping on. But the point I guess, is that you can get the same feeling from this that you can of that. Because sometimes it is nice to just escape to another planet of sound, and land back on earth soundly.
On Christmas Eve I treated myself to getting my nails done. I have been working hard lately, and taking on extra shifts. The ER can be stressful, but it’s what I choose to do for work. So until Colorado and Paris, only one day off at a time.
I asked the ladies in the nail shop out of curiosity how much time they get per week. She smiled, and replied with one day off per week. She looked tired, but her reality she seemed to be okay with. She was still smiling, and joking around at times! On Christmas Day, I asked the man from Yemen who owned the corner store (where I was buying wine from) how many days he gets off per week. He replied with none. No days off. One year on, one year off… sometimes. He went on to explain how Yemen is at war now. There are no hospitals, and no schools. This makes it so he cannot go home. It’s too dangerous. So for now, he works everyday.
If you are wondering how my Christmas was I will tell you. I will tell you that I was reminded that most of us in America have things very well. Most of us get two or more days off per week. We have schools. We have hospitals. Yes, our current president is an awful man… but he cannot he in office forever. Working hard to reach your goals pays off. Sometimes it is hard, but just remember that there is always someone who has things worse off than you… and sometimes that person is still smiling.
Yesterday I was sitting on my porch, and the sun was low in the sky. I noticed a honey bee flying low, and he slowly landed right into a spider’s web. Two spiders rushed in for the attack. I felt so bad for him watching him struggle, that I reached for a piece of bamboo to fish him out. The larger spider would not give up the fight. The honey bee caught in his web still was spinning round and round. I could hear him buzzing and buzzing in distress. I took my water, and doused both. They fell through the cracks of the deck into a deep dark dungeon to both likely meet their deaths. I felt really bad. Initially I was scared, and tried to help. Maybe sometimes you just have to let nature take its course?
Then today the same scenario hits again…but goes a little further. Serendipity, and/or a reason to sit here and ponder the meaning of life!?
Today I was listening to the Sword and Scale Podcast number 90. The Spider and the Fly. Here is the poem below…
The Spider and The Fly: A Fable
by Mary Howitt
“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly;
Which makes me wonder… did the fly or honey bee want to meet his untimely death. Did he want something the spider could give him? Was it the same for the honey bee?Was he like…screw this queen. I am OVER IT! I just really fuck up his whole idea??? Granted in the podcast they are speaking of a journalist (Claudia Rowe) searching her own soul via serial interviews with a serial killer (Kendall Francois) …BUT she and he are representative of the spider and the fly as she says. They both had something to offer each other. The murderer got his company, and the journalist got her story. She actually could see where one can get really fucked up, and see how murdering or hurting people is thought to be “okay”. I met a man who counseled Charles Manson. He said that if Manson hadn’t had been a product of the juvenile detention system from a young age, and been surrounded by the perfect storm in the desert shortly thereafter that he likely wouldn’t have formed a mass murdering cult. Could be true? Mental illness could also play a large factor. Well it does in fact. But religion and occultism also played a part in this. Whole other can of worms. I digress.
Point is… maybe between yesterdays event, and the podcast today I learned something new.
Learning when to meddle can be a fine line. Sometimes you can makes things a lot worse, and sometimes you can come out golden with a full belly, rich with happiness. But when you think you are saving someone, are you really saving them?
That is the question…