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.
A day late and a few more dollars short after martinis on a Friday night, and laughs with friends. A mantra a day late. This is actually perfect. Because yesterday I met my intentions set early in the morning of doing what makes me happy. Doing exactly what I want to do. Apparently not writing yesterday, and living life was just that.
I was recently reading an article about this woman. It went on about the things she wished she told her daughter earlier in life. Never apologize if someone bumps into you. Don’t be sorry for just existing in that space. Never apologize if you are not sorry. Don’t wear the dress if you won’t want to. If you want pizza, a whole mango, or a pint of ice cream for dinner, then do it. If you hate your job, get a new one. If you hate your life, get a new one! Find things that make you happy.
We get so wrapped up in what we “should do”, that we just do it. Then guess what happens? We end up not being totally happy. Yes I did eat a personal pizza for dinner this week…twice. Now my skirt is a little tight today from overindulging… but god damn it! It was so good. Both times! That is life. Trial and error rarely kills people. Rarely! If it does, I guess it was worth it for the hell of a ride that it could have been? I think/hope you get the picture!
So today’s mantra
Do what you want to do. -K.K. Powell
“Do anything you wanna do.” -Eddie + the Hot Rods
Reminds me of a doctor I used to work with in a teaching hospital. A resident would put their hand on the patients bed. He would snap at the resident to stand back. If he had a ruler he would have likely snapped it upon the residents wrist. Years later I saw this doctor with his wife outside of the hospital at the airport. Naturally I said hello. His wife smiled sweetly. I extended my hand, she accepted. He said smugly, “This is wife.”
Was he rude? Was he on the spectrum of autism? Was he socially awkward? Who knows? I was not fulfilled with this answer. I said, my name is Keri… I’m sorry I didn’t quite get your name? She replied… but now the name is lost in my memory.
This is wife.
Myth stories. I mean really. I may come from lineage of two witches burned in the Salem witch trials, so this also happens to peak my interest in the topic. But…these wood prints should remind us of a few things.
Let us remember…Christianity comes in spear heading the world with it’s own myths. Strong smart women were labeled witches, and men who do things unconventionally are wizards. Unlike today where it is status quo popular to be a witch… just by saying you are. I digress… Let us remember the holiest dance and drink with the Devil too. We all do.
Sometimes it is the most conformed and confined individuals that are the sickest. But to some degree… everyone dances and drinks with their demons. Shit, some probably live with them full time. It is times when we don’t handle our problems like we should. By escapism: drinking, sex, drugs, or whatever vice. By not using all your self worth. By not always doing your best. By not being somebody, or doing something useful in this world. Not using your self for the greater good.
But, we all need reprieve here and there. Sometimes to do your best one next day… you have to fall down in the days prior. You have to tear everything apart. Set it on fire. You have to literally fuck everything up. Destruct to construct. Without death, there is no renewal. Without the bad, there is no good. So spend a little time with your demons here and there. It may make you a better person….
Just do things the best way you see fit.
Click on the link for the rest of the wood print series…
To end with a quote from Oi Polloi
“No, don’t burn the witch. Burn, burn the rich!” -Oi Polloi
Three fat sausage fingers slide up and down her shoulder.
His pony tail smooshed to the back of his head…shifted to the right.
He didn’t have time between his nap, and the show.
Too much pot he smoked before the show.
Shewp, shewp, shewp, shewp.
My eyes grow wide.
Fuck…I am stuck next to these two for the next hour and a half.
As the man on the other side sucks his spit through the canyons of his teeth.
The pulled pork threads sit locked and loaded
I want to hear the speaker speak,
I consider asking these annoying people to stop with their annoyances.
Shewp, shewp, shewp, shewp.
Scratch, scratch, scratchity scratch, scratch, scratch.
My upset and overwhelmed brain begins to force my eyeballs out of my head.
I point a my index finger to my left ear to the incessant arm brusher.
For fuck’s sake.
Is the public display of attention THAT important.
Stop that already!
I visualize a mad man lunging toward him.
Grabbing his fingers, and chopping them off one by one.
Wait, is this a nervous tick?
Am I being a dick..?
My tiny index finger is this man’s saving grace.
Just go get some fucking tooth floss you indigent!!!
Nope, don’t say it.
Don’t be rude.
You drove a long way to hear this man speak…
The speaker speaks.
I fumble in my chair uncomfortably.
His voice rises just enough to muffle twiddledee and twiddledum.
A girl giggles nervously.
Another howls like she used to at a 1980’s arena rock concert.
My name is Ashley…
As she kisses her nineteen year old boyfriend on the lips.
Slips the tongue.
A french one.
We all know about THAT one.
He speaks, and reads me a tale or two
Lightning strikes from the rugged dark blue and grey clouds above.
His voice carries
as the thunders roll through the purple hills.
Crisis averted for twiddledee and twiddledum.
Wild rat scurrying from one bush to the next. My dog salavates, wiggling herself out of her collar moving so fast that she turns to a flash of white lightning. I scream, “oh my god! No! No! No!!!” with an incomprehensible gibberish…the dog is not distracted. Her one thought, “Does it squeak?” Her head buried into the bushes searching frantically. Right, left, left, right. “It’s gotta be close!”… but her luck has flashed right before her compulsive little brown eyes. Wild cat sized rat is just fast enough, and safe. I laugh so hard at my great American wig out aka scream of fear of plague/rats safety, that I double over in laughter and let out a pigs snort. Attractive man behind me chuckles. Ah shit, save face! My face flushes hot turning red. “You should’ve seen the size of that rat?! It was the size of a fucking cat!” He tells me he would’ve been alarmed too laughing along with me. We part, going our separate ways. I utter to myself, “I’m a total mess.” Large rats jumping out of bushes are a scary thought. Perhaps less scary if my wild imagination wouldn’t fling me down the rabbit hole occasionally.
In the night before two cats scream, scratch, hiss, and attempt to end each other’s will to live. It was the talk of the neighbors as I arrive home with the cat sized rat chaser. The dog with pride jumps, and licks snorting away happily at the familiar faces. “Did you hear all that racket last night?”… the owner of my apartments eyes light up. I nod in agreement and state how bad it all sounded. “It was raccoons mating!!! I turned the light on them, and they stopped. Then five hours later they were still there. I wondered if they got stuck?!” Laughter flows, “You’ve got to be kidding me?” His eyebrows raised in amazement goes on to tell me that it’s the god foresaken truth. Good thing I told the dog to stay close to me that night while she ventured into the dark night to relieve herself. If she tried to get into that action, my heart would’ve likely stopped.