The Tale of the Born-Again-Indigenous-Boogie-World

Elegantly gliding through time and space toward the bus stop this morning, my face painted with a faint smile because I was headed to a strain of heaven named hip hop dance class.  My glorious city, The Land of Oaks, shrouded in soft fog.  All of the pavement felt like a hard, crusty shell, firmly embracing a hidden and tender world.  So much motion, this urban existence.  Incessant going.  And coming.  Oh this world…


As my eyes fall awake to the light that lives as all forms, I often well up with such a great love as I did as I breathed in the cold moisture of the said moment, drinking it deep into my lungs.  Wonder Woman, was that a beautiful moment.  But so is this one, now that I mention it… and anyway, go-go-gadget masculine directionality of this blog.  Athena Grace, striding in brisk ecstasy and welling up with unsayable love for this world.  This love whose only longing is to extend itself.  Always.  And then the recurring dream of a dance church slid into my mind, as though it were boldly stealing home.  (Hey, that would make a great book title~ “Boldly Stealing Home”!)


Yes, this vision has been paying me regular visits for over a decade.  It really wants to be born!  But god, it’s a daunting vision… trying to nut and bolt out the practicalities and realities of creating a sanctuary where everyone is equal in the diverse embodied immediacy of hallelujah in motion.  This church is a place where humanity comes together and actively practices seeing and being seen with and through the generous and ever-forgiving eyes of Love.  Awe!  Grin.  Just as I typed that, the church bells outside began to siiiiiiiiiiiiing!


Anyway, back to the sidewalk and the fog and the striking woman bubbling over with a compelling cocktail of child-like hope, pragmatism and conveniently feigned uncertainty… It was then that I realized that I could at least WRITE this vision into existence. As I often love to assert, Athena Graceland IS MY WORLD!  I am a glorious and benevolent and whimsical ruler of this page.  I can bend and twist and straight-up defy the over-starched rules of logic, linearity and even– gasp– SCIENCE!  I see this world!  It is fresh and tender.  Yet, strong enough to be cracking through the sheath of concrete and “progress” we call home.


I thought to jot down this inspiration of a blog topic, but instead I just hustled to the bus stop in front of the ornate, antique Grand Lake Theater and sat upon the green, sheltered bench.  And waited.  And waited.  And waited and my bus was a whopping thirteen minutes late!  But I’ll tell you this much- the more I live, the more I am able to recognize a truly infinite intelligence at work within, through and beyond all things.  So rather than holding my breath and knitting my brow about it all, I silently asked my Self what It wished of me this miraculous, white-washed morning.  And it said WRITE*.  (*As well did it say to first get a few essential groceries at Trader Joe’s, and then stop at the pull-up bar and get my pump on and meet this buff brother with a beautiful and starving heart who would lap up the love flowing through me like a purring kitten… but that’s another story.)


So here I am, obeying the Small, Silent Voice.  Here I am, appointing myself High Priestess of the Land of Oaks as seen through the portal that is Athena Graceland.  You wanna hear something WEIRD???  I’ve NEVER had a yoga boyfriend!  I’d like to try it some day… I know that was off topic, but it lept, panther-style into my head… and it just seems a little wrong.  But not that wrong…


And now back to our previously programmed special edition of Athena Graceland- Sneak Preview of the New World!  We will become “born-again indigenous people”!  Ha!  That’s brilliant!  I mean, I am not any sort of real expert on indigenous people… but in my mind, live some abstract etchings of tribally-woven communities who exist in a paradigm of harmony with, and reverence for the earth and one another; where every person in the village takes active, devotional responsibility for the balance and thrival of the whole.  As my heart wakes up, this seems so obvious… Like DUH, we are NOT separate, and I love you as I love me, and I love me as I love you because we are the Same.  (with a capital S that rhymes with bless that stands for Oneness!) I mean that’s all Jesus was saying… and somehow we managed to invent this whole neurotic religion out of such fundamental purity.  But that’s in the past.  And from the present shines a nobly gruesome, entirely forgivable, dying world.  But shhhhhh.  Listen…





Hear the concrete cracking.  Hear the guttural, rumbling whispers of a glorious new world, reaching up from deep within the belly of the earth, like an infinity-winged angel hatching from a massive egg, spinning like an anonymous whirling dervish through a star-washed sea of vast, deep space.  See us all dancing together.  All sexes, all races, all ages and walks of life.  We gather in presence, in the spirit of play and faith and healing and CELEBRATION… We lay down our rancid and calcified stories of being small, separate and afraid, like arms in a world that has never dreamed the dream of war… simply because they bore us and we’d rather boogie!  And so we boogie!  And suddenly, we are no longer deaf to the heavenly music of our own eternal souls!   So we boogie some more, because the music is so smokin’ and it feels so good to move!


And in this Born Again Indigenous Boogie World, we are planting gardens EVERYWHERE!  Gardens and orchards… communities are overflowing with an abundance of fresh, nourishing, organic food.  And no one is hungry.  And no one is left to suffer alone.  Who tends the gardens, you ask?  We all do.  Not because we have to, or we’re sposta… just cuz we care.  We all genuinely care.




I truly believe that much.  In fact, I’d bet my sweet life on it.  True, we don’t all ACT like we care.  Because we’ve gone to sleep, or built stone walls around our tender, tremulous and holy hearts…. but deep down, and in that endless, beginningless place we all contain, WE SURE DO CARE.  Trust me.  The more you *want* to see that care winking from within every single brother and sister, the more you WILL see it.  I speak from experience.  We always see what we want to see.


What do you want to see?











Some *Really* Good News

I’m praying for deep purpose to sing up from my bones and rouse me into a lucid state of devotional engagement.  Ask me how many fire-storming moments I have hovered here on this blank page begging the universe within to call me to inspired action?  More than a few full strokes of eternity.  Hot, yet pathetically bearable eternity.  I am losing my tolerance for showing up on the page and flailing my God-given linguistic gift around like I’m a forgetful golden rhinoceros on greasy roller-skates.  Can I just write my book already?  I wanted to fire off a few rounds of question marks, machine gun style because I’m feeling frustrated like a constipated pop-gun.  Shrug.  Maybe my cork is just jammed way too far into my barrel.  Let me flail copious droves of gun powder all about my inner life and PRAY for the angels to toss a lit match into the fertile epicenter of my ness so that I explode into unwavering, ignited purpose.


Being a genius… it looks plenty glamorous from the outside… but before you go begging down God’s door to get some, consider this:  It can be maddening.  Because it’s not all neat and tidy, orderly and predictable, like being an accountant.  Not that I would know what it’s like to be an accountant.  (Thank Goddess 😉  But my mom does.  What do accountants do?  Run crunchy addition marathons? Have chains of silent, placid multiple numbergasms?  I dunno.  But I’m putting myself under sacred citizen’s arrest.


Athena Grace LMNOP you have the right to embrace Silence.  And allow it to inform your linguistic engagement upon the page.  Anything you say can and WILL be devoured by the minds of the masses.  So put your elegant, slender goddess hands up and let heaven gursh blessing into your open palms that you may then,  through the alchemical grace of Love, take this blessing into the epicenter of your sacred ness and pour it back out in exquisite washes of words which activate, illuminate, turn-on, inspire the masses!


Rrrraaaar!  I just stepped outside into the soupy grey morning and did fifty two star jumps (formerly known as jumping jacks, but my english friend RosyMoon called them star jumps the other day, and honestly, why would anyone call them “jumping jacks”, given this whimsically evocative alternative?!).  Yes, I recently discovered that doing fifty two star jumps is a quick and dirty way to encourage deeper breath and move energy.  And for some reason I’m really tempted to feel like a cheesy buttonhole this morning… but really I have way more succulent starfish to sautee.  I don’t want to give very much airtime to my frustration.  That’s not necessary.  It’s just a habit.  A habit that’s expired like rancid milk.


Let’s talk about being God.  This is a wildly pertinent topic, since WE ARE GOD.  And really, it’s about time we acted like it.  Twenty twelve is a threshold.  The old world is dead.  And the new world has yet to be born.  You could say it’s a clumsy time.  Cuz like WHAT IS GOING ON??????


Well… actually, it is way simpler than you might have imagined.  You are God.  And this is *NOT* a religious statement.  It is a simple fact.  Embrace it and then get on with your miraculous roll through the intricate wilderness of infinity!  And if the word “God” turns you off, DON’T USE IT.  Duh.  God is just a fancy word for “Love”.  And Love is just a fancy word for this infinitely intelligent, unified field of being ness that pervades All with a capital A.  Getting hung up on semantics is useless.  Just close your eyes and get quiet for a few moments.  Enjoy breathing and feel the profound surge of aliveness from which “you” spring.  And you will not deny that you ARE the great I AM.


Twenty twelve.  For many of us, it is occurring like just another grain of gregorian sand in the hourglass shaped story of human beingness.  And yet for many more of us, it is a time of profound and rapid awakening.  Last year, I could not have typed the words “I AM GOD” and then continued to glide like a grace-bathed swan upon the cool and euphorically glowing lake of eternal hallelujah from which I am dreamed into being.  I would have sweated.  Or back-petaled.  Justified, apologized.  It would have seemed arrogant or far-fetched or ungrounded or overwhelming or outright ridiculous.


But today it is like Levis on a casual friday, or a barefoot walk on the beach.  And I’m not God cuz I’m something special… or different from you or any other breathing treasure of Creation.  No way.  I am God because I am willing to recognize my divine essence delightfully shining back at me from freaking EVERYWHERE!!!  And that’s not to say that this is always easy.  Some people still rub me in frictionally challenging fashions.  But the difference is that I still KNOW who they are, and I praise the opportunity to smooth and polish my perception so that it becomes ever more aligned and attuned to the Truth.  The truth that LOVE IS ALL THAT IS REAL has become way more compelling than being right or clutching at some withered semblance of a small and false sense of self in a dangerously vivid dream world.


Oh, okay… maybe I’m not quite to the point of being free from the compulsion to clutch my delusions tenderly to my breast… Busted!  (wink).  But suffice to say that they are way less interesting than they were… in any number of that phat stack of illusory yesterdays.  Let’s talk about NOW.  Oft have I wondered of the deeper meaning of the Hanuman (the Sacred Servant Monkey God of the Hindu pantheon) stories in which he is able to grow and shrink according to contextual demand… I would scratch my head, baffled as various yogic philosophers would spin his stories into a sea of abstract, voracious  and porous minds.  But these wishful lips kept right on streaming the Hanuman Chalisa with a silent prayer of Holy Becoming.  And NOW, in this embrace of OUR divine birthright, it suddenly makes sense.  I can feel myself growing beyond buildings and mountains as I write these ripe words alive for all to consume.


Gosh, perhaps I didn’t need to include this little Hanuman Holiday… Is it too hippy-dippy abstract?  Does it dilute the simple truth to which the One points thru me?  If so, than treat this word-stream like a “choose your own adventure story”, like the ones I used to buy from the book fairs at my elementary school, and skip that paragraph!  And don’t give me any of that “How can I skip it, Athena?  I already read it…” business!  Pa-leeeze!  This is twenty twelve and linearity is inexplicably extinct.


I had to write the hanuman thing because as sat, streaming these love-imbued words, an image of me, expanding to fill the world, burned behind my eyes… and the understanding was purely somatic abstraction.


Inhale.  Exhale.  Now I return.  Back to the utter simplicity that is the ground.  I know who I am, because I know who you are.  Every single you.  And it doesn’t matter to me whether you agree or disagree.  That’s beside the point.  This is not philosophy.  Shrug.  It’s merely the quiet smile that spreads across all existence, regardless of faith or belief.  It does not even matter whether you choose to recognize it in this moment.  You will when you do.  And time is an illusion.  Be glad for this.  Because in one of these impending sacred moments, your consciousness will POP!!!!  Guaranteed.  And you will know what you have always known.  Be what you have always been.


Live A.

Complicated Or Pancakes?

My fingers are hovering on the keys like my mind is hovering on the teetering edge of God.  On one side, there is an unbounded field of goodness.  On the other side is chaos and complications and infinite reasons why this moment is insufficient.  Hmmmm… Given my God-given gift to create a world that is a perfect reflection of my inner world, my thoughts and beliefs, which side shall I invest myself in?  Athena Graceland is a world that I rule.  Honestly, I often feel subconsciously overwhelmed by this.  And I don’t just mean the rulership of Athena Graceland… but the rulership of my own life.  OH YEAH!  I forgot for a second what I wanted to write about, but it just came back as I opened the spigot of my mind!  Hallelujah, maybe there IS something greater at work here than generic old “me”.  Small, illusory, separate me with the smallest m in the wholesale alphabet warehouse…


This fear, that my writing is but a desperate, clawing act of survival of a greedy, sniveling, clutching little ego-fever-dream… it can be a crippling one.  I can be so absolute– like, either I must show up on the page as an entirely obliterated wash of GodLove, or I should just “stay on the porch”, sipping my sweet tea, thinking “deep, private thoughts” with my hand down my pants.  But then I catch myself flailing in the sticky net of that royal mind fuck and I take a breath and just start writing.


How’s that for profound?  I’d give it a nine!  Because think about it– Where does waiting for perfection get you?  Yes, this is a “my first zen koan”… from the collection “zen koans for dummies”.  Uh-huh, that’s right!  Waiting for perfection gets you to stagnant pergatory called “waiting for perfection”.  We could all rot a thousand times over as we sit around waiting for perfection.  But honestly, let’s not.  Let’s put on our hip rainbow vision safety goggles and get on with exploring the mystic scapes of our inner life as told by the wild and strange multiplicity of the “external world”.  (yes, I put it in quotes because I’m not convinced that it really exists.


Which brings me back to my original inquiry… the one that I have yet to divulge.  I am here, mostly naked on my blue bed on a moonday morning at ten forty, fog burning off and giving way to boundless, lucid sky and a glorious rendition of daylight and I am wondering.  Does that make me “Wonder Woman”?  Absolutely.  Ahem.  So I wonder…




This is a really important question.  And I’ve heard from leading experts in this field that NO, in fact, the world does NOT NEED TO BE SAVED.  Abraham Hicks, for one, takes this stance.  Not to mention an impressively sized handful of other “enlightened types”… Then there’s A Course In Miracles, which, in the essential fashion of most sacred texts, states that there is no world beyond the world Inside… so if we wish to look  upon perfection and endless love than all we must do is give ourselves devotionally to the task of polishing our own inner sanctum until it is Revealed as the brilliant shine it always has been and always will be.  As I write this, I’m like YEAH!  Absolutely!!!!  But next let’s consider Ghandi, MLKjr., Jesus Christ, (oh fuck, why are they all MEN who rise to the surface of my  mind when I call upon examples of great souls who majestically-creative, personify LOVE IN ACTION?  I’m sure there’s plenty of women… Maya Angeloo… Ummm… okay I have homework to do!  (Actually, will you please comment on this blog and share your favorite rockstar woman who has taken a bold and courageous stand from her heart and GIVEN HER ENTIRE LIFE to serving this stand?  I’d appreciate it.  And so will some other people.  Because I’m not the only one here who has been warped by world history books fabricated by the ill-meaning powers that be, in service of keeping our collective head clutched in a pathetic headlock by the tighter than thou  collective anal sphincter.)


So let’s summarize.  I’m into that lately.  In fact, since it blew my mom’s head open, I think I’ll play the numerical ordering game again!


#1- The thought form that asserts that it’s all about raising our own vibration- that we are each indeed God, existing on a sacred playground of infinite possibility where “right” and “wrong” expired back before the dinosaurs ruled the earth, and given this, every soul is eternal and free to choose and explore as they please and it is NOT OUR JOB TO JUDGE THE CHOICES OF OTHERS… but only to mind our own business and create as WE CHOOSE, resting sweetly in the assurance that there truly IS infinite supply.  That’s a rough sketch of the Abraham view of the ISniverse!


#2- This one is sort of an intermediate smear of the other two items.  The idea that there IS NO WORLD, aside from the world Inside.  I am a devout subscriber to this notion, and given this, I aspire every day to continue on the path of purifying and healing my mind.  But is that ENOUGH?  Then what?


#3- Love in action.  Those who devote their lives to making the world outside “a better place”.  And I can NOT deny that this is crucial, because I am so grateful for those who have taken a stand for such massive vision at the risk of their own comfort.  Fuck yes!


But why do they bother… if the world does not need to be saved and is already perfect?????????  I put nine question marks, but really I meant to put at least a thousand because I WANT TO UNDERSTAND THIS once and for all!


I guess the missing piece is dharma.  Gotta call Krishna in to shed his holy light on this colossal mind fuck!  He says it’s like this- You meditate, get fluent in the language of Silence, and then you can hear the call of your deepest heart’s integrity.  And if you have the chutzpah, you can give yourself entirely to this sacred invitation, whether it’s embarking on a mission to free a nation or make killer blueberry pancakes for your family’s breakfast… And Krishna told me to be SURE to emphasize that you mustn’t get attached to whether or not the nation gets free or the pancakes turn out hella rad… More important is complete immersion in the moment, in the intent, in the BEING.


God, how did it all get so complicated?  The more I live, the more I believe that if it is complicated, it is ego and it is unnecessary… I should have written this blog:  BE LOVE NOW.


Live A.

Across The Bridge And Thru The Woulds

And NOW for today’s epic shimmy through the eye of the needle.  Ya know what I mean?  …Or must I spell it out?  Well, I suppose if you already knew everything I was gonna say, I wouldn’t need to spell out a single word.  I would just be a bus driver, or a garbage collector and be done with it.  Wow, I’d make such a luscious garbage collector… in shiny red stilettos… Ahem.  So what I mean is– that the world inside me has more facets and dimensions than the the immensest diamond in the mind of God.  And this blank page of potential is the eye of the needle.  Reaching inside and feeling for what is most electric and raw and ripe…  that’s the job of the writer, proclaims Athena Grace, as a smile spreads her face wide with glow.


Inhale.  Exxxxxhale.  I feel dull today.  Dull and introverted.  I sorta wonder why.  I think it has something to do with my recent visit to Reno to visit my dad.  I often forget about the nuanced depths of the unconscious mind… I guess I get easily seduced into the captivating dazzle of all that I see out my eyes and feel in my body NOW… the overt weave of dreams and fears and ignited, soulful aspirations… I forget that the lotus thrives because its root sucks secret nutrients from the dark, unknowable, rich ness of slimy, muddy depths.  Slimy, muddy depths.  I think they got stirred in Reno.  And now I’m not a prismatic, holier than thou vessel of seeming purity.  I’m a glass of baffled mud.  Shrug.  Not much I can do about it, except BE HERE.  So I’m being here.  It’s sunday.  Usually on sunday mornings I dance myself inside out… unless I’m out of town or dead.  But today I showed up to dance… and nothing could make me move.   Everything inside lovingly hissed, “fuck this”.  So I left.  And went home and sat in like a perplexed, oversized potato on my bed.  Now it’s hours later and I’m still a baffled potato.  But I figured I’d at least open the pearlescent gates of my mind and allow strategic letters of the alphabet to scamper single file out of me in hopes of stumbling upon something of myself previously unseen.  Awe, that sounds so deep.  But maybe I don’t want to be deep.


Well first order of business is that my mom oft makes fun of me for using the wrong spelling of a word here in Athena Graceland… for example saying, “I want to go live in a log cabin in the woulds”!  Ha!  That’s funny.  No wonder it cracks my mom up.  She says “awe” is the wrong kind of aww.  Hahaha.  I’m tickling myself.  Trying to language this topic is like sumo wrestling the FAT-ASSED externalized authority that is mostly held hostage in a sexy stone tower somewhere in the enchanted northern hemisphere of my brain.  But I’m up for it!  And besides, if you had the choice of spelling “aww”, A-W-W or A-W-E, which one would YOU chose?  Awe, right?  Hands down!  Because awe= an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like: in awe of God… what’s NOT to love about reaching in your magic hat and seizing a fist full of THAT?!  Except for the fear piece… I didn’t know that awe could be an overwhelming feeling of fear.  In fact, screw that.  I’m gonna flat out disagree.


And now, ladies and gentle men, for the TURNING POINT of this blog, where all of my words become psycho-emotionally caloric and super-charged with meaning!


Shards of rainbow are wobbling languidly about the interior of my domestic slab of existence.  It’s nearly four pm and the indian summer light… wow… speaking of caloric!  I feel like I’m a seahorse sized mermaid in a rectangular aquarium filled with an exquisite strain of liquid light.  You might imagine me to be but a girl crying wolf as I profess to be rolling up my sleeves and driving at some sort of weighty essential core of this blog… but the fact that I really am a miniature mermaid habitating in a human sized tank of light and rainbows is the perfect prelude to my impending assertion that it is FULL ON, as we prance collectively into the final, waning moments of twenty twelve.  And I live how everyone is so casual about it!  We’re acting like it’s always been this way, and it’s hella normal. Which, in a way, it IS… But mostly it’s totally NOT!  Listen, I’ve always been the token mouth puker-inner, when someone signs their email, “love and light”… Because COME ON– it’s SO repulsively new-agey.  You might have mistakenly put me in the “new agey” box… but “your bad”… cuz I’m not.  Just cuz I happen to have a delicious glow of contemporary Jesus-i-ness, does NOT make me new agey.


BUT WHO CARES ABOUT ME, what I’m driving at, is that the dawn has COME and the technicolor rising of love and light on the horizon of our collective consciousness is so striking and overt at this point that one must call a spade a spade.  Wow.  Not only was that a robustly poetic and dazzling thesis statement, but Wonder Woman, was it SO TRUE.  Something IS dawning inside of us now.  I feel it surging like a broken damn through the bloody birth canal of my own being… and as well, I see it, smell it, feel it, taste it EVERYWHERE.  I can’t leave the house without spotting someone sporting a “LOVE” t-shirt.  And I don’t just mean one of my fellow new-age-freak-holes. I mean even the most unsuspecting ghetto-bootied oakland chick, chillin on her twilight picnic blanket, daintily lifting mc donald’s fries to her drippingly glossy mouth with fingers donned in neon acrylic nails longer than london bridge.


And just log on to my Facebook page– everyone is saying the most enlightened things… incessant exclamations of gratitude and love and deep care for this world and all of its inhabitants.  You’d think we were all the second coming of Buddha or something.  Oh wait, we ARE.  But we finally are realizing it.  And it’s cool how natural it seems.  Nobody seems to be making a big deal of it… Like “of course were God”.  Grin.  Like how night melts into day so smoothly that suddenly the darkness is nowhere to be found and the sun is blinding you and it ain’t no thang.  That’s the magic of dawn.  That’s the grace imbued in nature and time and cycles.


Oh crap, I’m ready to end this blog, and I don’t feel like groping around in the uncharted reaches of my asshole in search of the most fluid, intelligent exit.  My departure feels reminiscent of attempting to leap off of a speeding train.  Well I’m gonna leap!  And land in a soft, benevolent wash of love and light (wink).  Here I goooooo…. But I shall leave you with this entirely true declaration–


Reading these words, you have crossed a bridge.  By the Sacred Power vested in me, I now pronounce you WIDE AWAKE and eternally blessed as an innocent and perfect child of God.  I’m serious.















Best Friend Material

I seriously wonder how many people are sitting on their flower laden rooftops, sporting a soft, cottony sundress, free of buzz-kill-encomberment of of panties, sipping a cold, feisty beer and pouring over their Course In Miracles lesson for the day.  I’m guessing very few.  Strange indeed, because coming from one who IS, I must say, it all feels so right.  I typed that and then I cracked up out loud, and jovial little drizzles of spit misted my smiling lips.  I love that I have learned to be such a rad friend to myself.  I think this sacred two years without an “official” boyfriend has been profoundly transformative.  To inhabit my aloneness with such joy and warmth and gratitude.  Not to toot my own horn (toot toot!), but I sure am fantastic best friend material!  I’m laughing again!  I LIVE to laugh!  And god did I earn it the hard way… I remember a phase in my mid twenties where I didn’t laugh for like a year or two!  Really.  But that’s something kind of brutal and delicious about my unfolding– I find that contrast has been a marvelous teacher.  Walking through the darkness makes the light so precious.  I swear on my Course in Miracles text that I felt the first thirty years of my life to be a dark night of the soul… Ugh.


Well, minus some really sweet moments in childhood.  Oh god, attempting to catalogue the past is very stupid and pointless.  But the POINT is that if I had’ve been born donning a shiny silver spoon as the red carpet of material and psycho-emotional ease poured out before my every step like a new-born river,  I would NOT be nearly as deep and rich and amazing as I am.  And god, who KNOWS what’s to come…. more struggles, more triumphs.  More hopes and dreams and failures and elations.  Shrug.  Sounds about par for the course.  Bring it ON, Lady D-is-for-Destiny…


I hung two hummingbird feeders on my roof and now as I sit here at this dusty, glass-top table in the shade, my skin worshipped by decadent breezes, I witness the steady flux of tiny winged wonders imbibing their nectarous mainstay.  Intermittent light chirps and the whirr of wild wings.  And I behold bobbling flowers, gently back-lit by climactic evening sun light.  I behold their quivery dance and it feels like friendliness.  Could be construed as understated… but only by people who watch copious amounts of T.V. and require a steady barrage of bitch-slaps to their nervous systems.  For someone who’s hella ZEN like me, though, (wink),  I am nearly crushed by the force of their sacred presence.


Here I am, figuratively on my knees because of the blessed ness that is smacking me like the waves I watched rising up and gracefully exploding upon the shore and the rocks at Tennessee Valley Beach this morning… I mean the thick, creamy warmth embracing my skin, alone is enough to make me feel richer than Bill Gates.   (He’s rich, right?  I don’t really follow the media, but I somehow have a notion that dude’s got BANK.)  So here I am existing inside this decadenter than thou slice of perfection… and musing on what is worth saying… I feel torn, because I feel like it’s simultaneously ALL worth saying, every frivolous drop of existence, micro to the macro… and none of it’s worth saying unless it is unabashedly unleaded Truth with a hella capital T.


Unleaded Truth = Love.  Love = so MASSIVE that it would be like one emaciated, beatnik caveman trying to devour an entire, particularly jumbo dinosaur by himself.  Multiplied by affinity.  And in the face of that, why am I compelled to tell you that now I’m eating perfectly crispy on the outside, soft and hot on the inside, baked sweet potato hunks dipped in intimidatingly spicy dijon mustard and wondering WHY I am compelled to dip them in so much mustard when it really just masks the nuanced, gentle divinity of the tuber itself.  I guess it’s cuz I need to FEEL something… You know,  like “those people”, who “require a steady barrage of bitch-slaps to their nervous systems”…


Oops, I’m busted!  Pointing the finger, while a good few stay sassily aimed at my own unwieldy dream of selfhood.  I might be BUSTED, but this blog is SAVED… because now I have a fresh cut of philosophical meat to slice and dice and entice your slobbery mind.  From what I’ve gathered of Jesus Christ, he was WAY more into assisting people in taking radical responsibility for their perception of the world “outside”, and becoming masters of the world Inside, than practicing frivolous martyrdom and eventually “dying for our sins”…


Wait a second here… WHY WOULD I BE TALKING ABOUT JESUS, WHEN I COULD BE TALKING ABOUT MY OWN AMAZING FRIENDS?  Well I guess cuz Jesus’s teachings are helping me realize that there really IS NO WORLD “OUT THERE”.  It’s all in here, and because of this weighty and accurate declaration, I can continuously refine my perception, so that I am undone and only rarefied love bares witness to this loony circus of sacred play.  And while my friends are hands down as bomb as J-ditty, they still act a bit confused in the face of this resplendent, hollow splay of multiplicity.  And if I was to be true to my assertion that there is, in truth, nothing outside myself, then it would really be ME who is the confused little angel in this dream of a meat suit.  And if that’s the case, then I still have more to let go of.  I am willing.


Yeah, THIS JUST IN– the kind of learning where you pick up ideas and carry them around like a backpack full of rocks is SO old paradigm.  Cutting edge learning is really the practice of laying aside beliefs, ideas, identities; being willing to be empty, so that the Light of Heaven can pour through, unimpeded.  I want to sit inside the sacred smolder of my sun kissed skin and suckle the all pervading Silence as a baby incessantly sips milk from mama’s generous breast.  It takes courage to relinquish the dried husks of our identity that we mistake for who we Are.  Friends, we are waaaaaaaaaaay more than a sorry spew of tangled, frozen images of  a past that may or may not have even happened in the first place.


Time for me to start my feathery, downward drift toward slumber, but in summary, #1– the present moment is a masterpiece, #2– it is possible to take responsibility for everything we perceive outside and transform it through a vigilant practice of forgiveness, #3– I live all the amazing friends I am blessed to share this life with, and #4– We humans are wellsprings of limitless goodness that no mere idea could ever hope to encompass or encapsulate.


Gnite.  Sweet Dreams… 😉