I’ve been discussing the most recent terrorist atrocities in France in an attempt to make sense of it all. I find myself most affected by this recent attack and feel a great sorrow.

When are we ever going to create actual change? Einstein’s definition of insanity, repeating the same thing over and over again expecting different results, ringing in my ear, so many individuals wanting to blame the Muslim religion yet conveniently forgetting about the atrocities individuals of their own religions created throughout history. To say that the Muslim religion is any more violently retributive than any other is false. It just happens to be the more violently extremist today. If we react like we’ve always reacted, (through war, fire and violent punishment) we may “win” in the short run. These extremists may retire and fade away to be discussed in history books, but in another lifetime there will be another group of extremists by a different name that will repeat the same actions once again, and then what? When will it end? When will real change be the solution? We can’t continue to Band-Aid the problem when the organ needs a transplant. This is 2015, not 15, there must be a level of higher consciousness within humanity at this point?! Reacting like barbarians only fuels the barbarians themselves.

And what of the majority of individuals belonging to this religion who are peaceful people, individuals like you and me, simply wanting a better life for themselves and their families? How are they going to be affected by these acts of extreme violence? The anger they must feel toward people degrading their way of life, risking their safety in a country they gratefully moved to in order to flee that very same violence.

I was asked what my solution would be and in all honesty, I don’t know. I wish I did. The pain that the victims are feeling must be overwhelming and their desire for retribution must be rampant. The irony is that I don’t blame them, but one thing that I do know is that violence begets violence. Imprison these terrorists, they need to be detained so as not to hurt or murder anyone else, but these are severely damaged individuals who need professional help. They have been socialized to hate and brainwashed into believing that their salvation is reliant on murder. God only knows what they’ve suffered through in their own lives to come to believe that murder is any kind of solution. They are extremely damaged and need healing.

To which was said, partly in gest, “there aren’t enough prisons to house them.” My response was, “free all of the people who’ve been imprisoned for pot smoking and stealing from the corner store and burglary and there will be room.”

“Ya, but then those people will just go back to selling weed and stealing.”

“Exactly, that’s why things need to change on a grander scale. We need to stop fixing the side effects and start working on the source of the problem;

Feed the people’s bellies and they will not steal

Feed their souls and they will not harm

Shelter them and they will not pillage

Heal them and they will develop compassion

Educate them and they will live without fear

Love them and their hearts will flourish

I admit that I don’t know any Muslim people because of the fear that has been propagated on both ends. Segregation and fear mongering is the best way to keep people apart, making it easy to limit and stereotype our consciousness.

I am a humanitarian and an egalitarian and know about spirit.

The human condition is desperate for concrete definitions and black and white answers, the simpler the better, the quickest solution often overriding the necessary solution.   When in truth, these acts of terrorism are a symptom of great pain and suffering that require a grander attempt at finding the solution, which could take a very long time to achieve; but isn’t anything worth having worth that time? Imagine the possibilities of filling peoples hearts with love and compassion, imagine a world where fear and hate do not dictate one’s actions or reactions, imagine a place where humans have stopped living through power and greed and have started living through love and compassion. The wound is infected we need a metaphorical antibiotic, there is still hope, it’s not yet time to amputate. Let’s work together and change the world for the better.

Charlie Chaplin’s Greatest Speech:


The truck that dropped me off, did it turn round, turn round and watch me walk the long way down?

Were you standing outside when you called me up?

Did you hold me to the end of your long line?

Have you got me in your bleeding heart file?

This light has drawn the blind.

Cinnamon mints

Cold ground

Flower count down

Time to go.

Time to glow.

Posted on October 29, 2015 Leave a comment


I’m at a party of some kind. There are people all around, old friends mostly. I walk down a hall with people scattered throughout. The lighting is dark, bluish with orange glows from the table lamps and sconces. Everyone is looking at me as I approach a door to a bedroom. I peer over shoulders to have a look in. There are babies everywhere with their mothers close by and fathers standing around. My heart starts to ache. Everyone is staring at me. They can feel my pain. The mothers have their own club and pity me for not being a part of it, knowing at one time I so desperately wanted to. The fathers feel empathy, knowing what it’s like to not be in that club.

I try to hold back my tears but as I walk closer to the beautiful little babies my eyes well up as my heart overflows with sadness. I sit on the bed next to two beautiful little babies lying there cooing and squiggling as their mothers look down at me with a pity that is simultaneously disgusting and heart wrenching and I can’t hold back any longer. The tears pour down my cheeks, as the cries possess my vocal cords like a banshee. I get up and run out of the room, balling and running and balling and running until I’m nowhere. I’m standing in a space of light, no ground, no rooms, no perspective, just white, my tears never ceasing.

Jim Carrey appears out of nowhere. His tall slim stature calmly walks toward me, his heart filled with compassion. He stands directly in front of me two inches from my face as I try to hold back my pain and says, “It’s ok, you can let it out, let it all out.” His arms wrap around me like a warm blanket on a cool fall day and he holds me, pats my head and whispers “it’s ok, you’re allowed to cry.” I let my body fall into his, allowing him to hold me and cry those loud ugly tears that you cry when you feel like your heart has been wrenched from your body and might never be healed.

I wake up.

Why this dream? Why now? Why Jim Carrey???

Well, I think I can at the very least answer why Jim Carrey:

Oh Father

I found out today that my father died.

My biological father.

To those of you who don’t know, when I refer to my father, 95% of the time I’m referring to my step-father. A wonderful man who had a great and powerful influence on my life. He died the year before I graduated with my BFA.

Today I found out that my biological father died.

Sorry, I just had to repeat that sentence. I think I’m in what is referred to as shock.

He was found dead in his apartment, believed to have been dead for about a week. The only reason why he was found was because it was starting to smell. He was an alcoholic that just couldn’t stop drinking. This once tall, handsome, strong man had evolved into an unrecognizably shrunken emaciated man with handicaps from untreated injuries due to drunken blackouts. The last few years were the worst of his life. My brother tried on several occasions to help him, get him into rehab, get him sober and functioning but he just couldn’t stop. Isn’t that the saying, “They just can’t stop.” and I find myself in a strange sort of fog where my brain hasn’t caught up to my heart and my heart doesn’t know which way to turn.

The strangest thing is that he came to me in a dream about a week ago and I was annoyed and said to him, “What are you doing here, you’re not dead yet?” I cried that morning for all of the love lost and the residual guilt that my innocent child self somehow still holds a sliver of; believing somewhere inside her beautiful perfect little heart that had she been loveable enough for him to love her back she would have saved him, he would have been good to her and mommy and Jacques. I hug this little girl and tell her it’s not her fault, it never was and that she is the most loveable magician that ever lived and that if he was so lost that he couldn’t see that, the loss, unfortunately, was his. I asked God and my father for forgiveness that morning. I asked to be forgiven for giving up hope for his redemption and I asked that my father be forgiven for never trying.

I’m not writing this for condolences, in fact I send my condolences to those of you out there who had the rare opportunity to experience the good man inside of him; a good man that I heard about every now and again from random strangers who had, what they would describe as, the pleasure of knowing him. I rarely, if ever saw this man, the man I grew up knowing was not kindhearted or thoughtful or loving, but rather, mean, selfish and narcissistic.

And still, I’m sad. He was my father after all. I’ve been told that I look like him.

I’m sad for the life he could have lived and sad for the life he chose to live instead.

I’m sad for my brother who always held on to the hope that our father would wake up one day and decide to be a father.

I’m sad that I let go of that hope many years ago.

I’m sad for my mom and all of the horrible memories she has still living inside her.

I’m sad that he never tried.

I’m sad that he wasn’t a different man.

I’m sad for the loss of a man that was never in my life.

I’m sad for the idea of a memory that was always a dream.

I was going to write about the pains that I incurred as a side effect of being his daughter but feel that I have dealt with those issues and released them to the ether a long time ago. He did try sometimes. As best he could, given the type of human he was, on occasion I would get a sober phone call from him, asking about my life, asking about the basics, that he may go to the bar that evening and brag to his drunken bar-house mates about how talented his daughter is living in the big city. I harbor no resentments, but rather feel only sadness for a life lost that had so many opportunities to be found.

If I were to offer any words of wisdom, they would be this. Don’t ignore the signs. The Universe gives you infinite opportunities to make different choice, better choices, listen to them. Don’t waste your life. Stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting others. Don’t be afraid to face yourself because it’s within you that you will find love, you will need that love to share with everyone in your hemisphere, and believe me when I say that loving yourself and passing that love onto those around you is the greatest gift in the world. Embrace the love that reaches out and hold on tight because in the end that love will be all that you have and without it you have nothing.

Posted on September 22, 2015 Leave a comment

Oh No You Di-in't!

The non-invite

I’m in transit, on my way to this house party, perfect time to call, actually, you live just down the street from my friends house, neet.

The sideways compliment

You did something with your hair.

The not so humble humility

I would help you lift that heavy object but I just finished a sesh at the gym and my giant perfectly sculpted biceps are killing me.

Posted on September 13, 2015 Leave a comment



I punched my red sofa pillow so violently this morning that I felt sorry for it. It’s the first time in years that I’ve had this particular urge and followed through. Sometimes it just feels good to punch something. My kick boxing class usually helps but that only takes place on Saturdays…I couldn’t wait that long.

A little back-story…

I received an email that seemed and still possibly seems like a potentially good opportunity for my career. A fellow emailed me, all the way from Australia, asking me to participate in a television show that he produces about artists in their studios. The show has been airing for several seasons and is on its way to America and the producer emailed me to be a part of it. WOW! Right?!?!?!!! The episode would entail a studio interview, live painting and showcase many of my works throughout. A great opportunity… or so I thought, until I read the last page of the information packet.

The last page stated the cost of this project. As an educated artist, I’ve been told time and time again, by working professionals in the field, that an artist shouldn’t pay for advertisement; not only do we not tend to have those kinds of funds readily available, but it also dismisses the authenticity of the artist, in that, if an artists work is good they shouldn’t have to pay to be showcased. The total cost of my episode would be $6000.00.

I understand it’s a PBS project and that they lack funding, that it’s an informational program that could benefit many artists, students and the general public in many ways and that it is an opportunity for exposure. I also understand that in the grand scheme of television programming it is a menial price, but $6000.00?!?!

This is not the first time that I’ve been approached to pay a significant amount of money for exposure, I’ve been contacted several times by many magazines, art books, galleries and publicists stating that for a fee (typically between $300-$2000) they would publish and show my work and that this exposure would certainly lead to fame and fortune. A popular fellow that many of my artist friends and I have heard from is Salvatore Russo who claims that for a mere 350 Euro I will be exhibited in a prestigious group show in some mansion somewhere in Italy with my name mentioned in the most renowned art magazine in the country. To actually have an image and an outline in the magazine is extra, on top of cost of travel and room and board for the opening. Every time he sends me an email, I send him one right back stating that my paintings are available for sale at and if he would be willing to buy a painting or two or know of anyone who would that I would be more than happy to participate in this so called “prestigious opportunity”, knowing full well that I will be getting another generic invite in about a months time and that genuinely prestigious opportunities don’t cost the celebrated any money, if anything they occasionally get paid for the honor.

I’m not sure what is more insulting, the fact that the charges are so ridiculously high (we are artists, just in case you all forgot that part) or that my work had absolutely nothing to do with the invitation, that the email he sent to me was an email sent to 50 million other artists simply because their information is also online.

I haven’t responded to the television shows invitation yet and am not really sure how to go about doing so. The producer does seem genuine and there are many seasons and episodes available to view online, which lead me to believe that he’s not a total shit. It is by far the most expensive and is certainly not in my budget at this time. If I did decide to participate I would have to look elsewhere to raise the funds. All reasons as to why I’m still considering it as a possibility, if I could raise the funds, it could be beneficial. More research is needed before any decisions will be made. Something that did bother me was that I had a look at some of the artists showcased in the program and my work seems to be risqué by comparison, which makes me wonder if I was just another artist who happens to have her email address readily available online.

So, as I woke up this early morning, my coffee brewing as I prepared my morning prayer and meditation, I checked my email and read with delight only to be metaphorically punched in the stomach by the promise of an opportunity because of my apparent talent, that I’ve been working my entire life to master, only to find that it might very well be just another generic scheme that has nothing to do with my work and everything to do with my pocket book (that’s not all that full to begin with). I took that metaphorical punch and literally punched back, my pillow that is, picturing all of the faces and emails and expensive “opportunities” in every swing.


Sometimes it’s really hard to have faith but I pray for it every day anyway.

Thank you humans (who reside in every facet in life) for giving me more opportunities to develop my faith. Thank you.

Disclaimer: the art show television producer guy may or may not be one. I haven’t researched enough yet to make that deduction.

Posted on September 2, 2015 Leave a comment

To Fate or Not To Fate...

I have been reading and listening to spiritual leaders/gurus/guides for years now and some of these advisors believe in a predestined path, that everything that has happened and will happen was meant to happen. I don’t believe this, I believe that we have the ability to make choices and that those choices dictate whether we are on our most lucrative, beneficial, loving, successful path or not. I don’t believe that a crackhead living in the street, who’s lost his family, his job, his home, was meant to be a crackhead living in the street. I don’t believe that a clinically depressed individual was meant to be living in that nightmare. I don’t believe that a person living in an abusive relationship was meant to be in that relationship. I believe that we make choices and that the outcome is dependent on our level of consciousness when said choice was made. The outcome is relative to our intentions in regard to the desires. Why is it that we desire what we desire and where is that desire coming from, from a place of compassion and love or from a place of pain and ego?

An old friend was visiting New York recently and I had the pleasure of spending three days with her after not seeing her for years. Like it is with real friendships, even though we don’t communicate regularly or see each other yearly, whenever we do reconnect it’s like no time has passed, we pick up right where we left off with new and interesting adventures to share. With old friends there’s the added bonus of time, she knew me when, which leads to a natural comfort.

I was talking to her about how happy I was to be living in New York and how it felt like home and how I wish I had never moved to Montreal. Montreal was a mistake and I wished that I had stayed in San Francisco, worked out my visa issues there and moved to New York sooner. She then said to me that she understood that feeling of regret, that feeling that you made a wrong turn, a bad decision, a mistake, she felt that way in regard to a thing or two in her life. Maybe mid-thirties is when that sensation of regret starts to develop because you’ve had enough time on the planet at that point to get lost a few times along the way.

She asked me if I thought that it really was a mistake or was it rather something that was meant to happen, pre-destined to happen to teach you some great life lessons. She acknowledged one of her regrets then said how because of that particular misfortune she was able to focus more on her relationship with her husband, which she was grateful for. I told her that I absolutely believe in mistakes, that when a choice stems from fear or pain (pain can sometimes be masked by ego) that the most likely outcome will be equally painful; if not directly through the desire then as a side effect in other aspects or your life. Moving to Montreal was a desperate decision that was driven by heartbreak and fear. My time there was a progressive decline in every single regard, my budding career had all but disappeared, it was virtually impossible for me to make friends, my romantic relationships (or lack there of) were comedic in their desperation and finding a job was like pulling teeth. I knew that I had to make a change or I would die. The Universe was making it very clear that I was not where I was supposed to be.

It was only when I had actively decided to move to New York that things started to progress in an exciting direction again, so much so, that I started to question weather I should move at all. I got a job teaching at a local Continuing Education art school, I started meeting new people and making new connections, and yet every time I seriously contemplated staying something would happen that solidified my decision to move, a co-worker would tattle tale on me to the director about letting my students out five minutes early, the contractor that I hired to renovate my condo installed the toilet lopsided, a new guy that I met turned out to be a stalker or a sale would fall through. It yo-yoed for several months before I realized that I really just had to move.

I agree with her that every situation has the potential to teach you something new. That with pain can come great revelation and that if we are in tune we can catch it and change the circumstances. I learned to progress through fear and follow my dreams into the next dimension; I learned that death would come for all of us and if I was going to live I had to, at the very least strive for my dreams, otherwise what would be the point in any of it? Truly supreme life lessons if I do say so myself, ones that I still follow and strive for to this day. The question being, did I have to suffer through all of that sorrow, pain, loneliness, and failure in Montreal to transcend? I believe the answer is no. I believe that given my nature I would have gotten there anyway, and possibly sooner in love. I believe that my suffering was something that I created in my own life given my state of consciousness in making a major life-altering decision. I believe that it was a mistake, and that had I taken just a little bit more time to figure things out that I would have progressed faster and smoother. Do hardships often present opportunity, absolutely! Hardships are most often opportunities in masks, but sometimes there are hardships that you’ve created out of desperation that lead you nowhere, that you could live without. Pain that you yourself have created ironically enough to deflect pain that you’re feeling.

Feel your pain. Work through it. Acknowledge it. No one likes to be ignored. Don’t allow it to have a tantrum and delay your progression. Face your fears, I promise you they’re not as scary as you imagine. When you follow your heart with integrity, love and kindness you radiate beauty and that’s infectious. You’re life will be a roller coaster, but you can dictate in certain aspects to certain degrees how low or high you want that car to climb. Most of all, enjoy the ride, kick your arrogance to the curb, encounter new situations with enthusiasm and curiosity and respect the strangers you walk by on the street. Love yourself and as a side effect, the love that you will feel for others will be a magic that will ignite fireworks.

Posted on July 30, 2015 Leave a comment

Fate  -Alphonse Mucha


-Alphonse Mucha

Active Change

I knew he would be pissed. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t respond to the first message, hoping that he would give up and forget about me as I have forgotten about him. I really have, 5 minutes after reading his message I would forget about him completely only to be reminded of his existence a week later with another message. I had to put a stop to it, otherwise I knew he would never stop trying to contact me. I thought about writing something like “oh sorry, I accidentally deleted you from my friends list and didn’t realize.” But that would have propagated the problem. So I bit the bullet and told him the truth.

“Honestly Guy Whose Name I Shall Not Mention,

I think that we are just two very different people. Do you realize that this is the most you’ve contacted me in years, and it’s not because you genuinely want to catch up, but rather, because I’ve stopped contacting you.

I’ve come to realize a few things that helped me see how different we are. I don’t have anything in common with you anymore and your cruel sarcasm is not something that I want to engage in. No hard feelings or anything, I just think that if we were to meet today we wouldn’t have anything in common. And to chat with you once every couple of years because you’re having trouble with your relationship is not my idea of a friendship.

I’m not angry, not for a long time, I just don’t see a point in staying “friends” when your personality consistently hurts my feelings and we no longer have anything in common. I mean, let’s face it, we were never friends, we were lovers and that ended years ago.

All the best to you,

That started what could have been a tumbleweed of cruel remarks fuelled by resentments long since past. He sent a not-so-nice response, one that I was expecting because I did know him very well and I also know that he hasn’t changed much in the decade apart. He never really took the time to get to know me at all. He played and pretended and I accepted these superficial shows of affection because I was young and insecure. He was passionate and exciting and was the first man to ever sweep me off my feet. He was also mean and sarcastic and selfish and given that we most certainly were no longer sleeping together, there was nothing left to balance the cruelty, not that cruelty ever can be balanced, but you know how it is when you’re young and so desperately wanting to be loved. So, rather than fuel that dramatic fire, only to create a microcosm of chaos in my life, I decided to delete him completely and block his profile. The only answer that I have, given that I am 99% sure that he would never apologize for anything and that he would consistently write hurtful things.

I learned a long time ago that you can’t communicate with someone who is not ready to hear what you have to say. And so, I’m left with a strange feeling of pride and loss. I am proud of myself for dealing with this very old piece of baggage once and for all; quite possibly the first major piece of baggage that spurred on all of the other accumulated baggage that I’ve been expunging recently, now that is a major accomplishment. And yet there is still that sense of loss. Where from? I had long since given up any hope in reuniting with him and had long lost any infatuation for him and had long lost any hopes for a friendship and had even long since forgotten of his very existence for the most part. So what is this feeling of loss? A piece of myself that is gone from me forever, and albeit, I’m all the better for it, there is still a kind of nostalgia over the naiveté and innocence of that time. A loss for the better is still a loss after all.

Posted on July 12, 2015 Leave a comment



It’s been a few weeks since my last post and I’ve felt the guilt over not writing linger like a slow tide. Life gets busy sometimes, from participating in a Spartan race to flying out the next morning to attend my nephews Christening (who, by the by, is the most delectably delicious little creature that I have ever laid eyes upon, a magical little human who has the soul of ancient Gods, eyes that see all of the mysteries of the Universe and a personality to die for) to flying back to New York, work for a couple of days and present my current body of work in progress to my gallery director, to fly to Mexico a few days later for a yoga retreat that gave me more than I could have ever conceived of in the strangest, most chaotic ways, making it that much more interesting given the complete and total contradiction and absurdity of it all. I see it now, a movie in the making!

So what now? I’m not sure really.

And how? I honestly have no idea.

I know how to do what I do and will continue to do it and do it well, but my lotus has dug through the mud, swam through the dark depths and is swaying, nearing the surface. The cerulean waters reflecting the sky and the flower ready to bloom in directions that I have only just conceived.

The journey is a mystery and in those dark depths that fact is frightening and has the potential to consume you, swallow you whole like Artax in the Swamp of Sadness. But the light is shinning brightly through and the mystery suddenly transforms into an ocean of possibilities. The question of how becomes exciting. The possibilities endless. The journey electrifying. The fear of how long this elation will last surfaces every now and again, only to be pushed out by, fuck that shit, I feel supreme today. Focus on the gratitude that you thought you had lost. Remember your gifts and follow your heart. Everything will work out, it always does and flow with the tide, not only because it’s easiest but also because it’s fun as hell, when you need to, fight against the tide if only to prove that you can and when you start to discover what and how, orchestrate the waves so that they crash in large melodious thunders or wash up in sweeping stylized soliloquies. Whenever that darkness looms, respect it, live in it, accept it, love it, cry with it, fight it, thank it and then let it go. Move forward literally one footstep at a time and do the very best that you can with what you’ve got in any given moment. Be kind, not only to others but to yourself and remember love is universal.

Posted on June 23, 2015 Leave a comment


I’ve been wracking my brain trying figure out what to write this week. Thanks to the Holiday I’ve been allotted some extra time, my usual Sunday post is a Monday post, this week only! Come one, come all and read the show! Those of you who know me might be asking what the big deal is? I’m a painter after all and do make my own hours, but I am working to have slightly more regulated hours, a little closer to the norm, so that I’m able to hang out, go out and visit with all of you lovely, beautiful people with nine to fives. My life would be miserable without you! So, even though I sleep in a little later I still work the same hours, give or take an hour or two and am just as grateful for a holiday! 😉

I have recently been under a bit of extra stress. My regular daily life is relatively stress free, aside from crunching deadlines I have a pretty smooth life, I paint, hang out with friends, go to the gym and date (when the opportunity arises), but it seems like every few months I get punched in the face with something that I can’t ignore, that brings everything to a halt and knocks me to the ground. Some might call it celestial balance, I like to think of it as progress in motion, every punch is an opportunity to get stronger and perhaps even evolve out of the chaos.

I found out that a man that I had seen a few times was a married lying sack of shit, the Don Draper type, you know what I’m talking about. It wasn’t the first time that a man who was otherwise engaged tried to bed me, but was the first time that I was consistently lied to about it. I’m happy that I found out sooner rather than later because this guy, aside from his sack of shit, filled me with that kind of heat that sends you to another plane of existence and knowing myself as I do, I would have fallen so deep and possibly died from the heartbreak, had it continued. I know this sounds a little extreme, but alas, it’s the truth, I am a romantic an attribute that I greatly enjoy because all of the sorrows that I’ve felt over the years do not compare to the love that I’ve reveled in and that feeling I cannot live without.

A couple of weeks after this discovery I found a few lumps on my body. I went to the clinic and the doctor was 85% sure that it might be what everyone fears and referred me to a specialist. Double whammy. I was just starting to get over the whole married guy thing (which was a heartbreak in and of itself) and BLAMO you might have cancer! To all of you readers and non-readers alike, who’ve been living this life sans romantic partner for a length of time, it’s total shit to have to go through something like this alone. I kept thinking about how nice it would have been to have someone to hold me while I cried out my fears and then Mr. shit for brains would pop into my head and I would think, fuck the hell right off doucher, GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Take your sexy lips, confident stride, broad shouldered six foot stature back to your wife and leave me the fuck alone (yes this was said to myself in my brain. I haven’t heard from him since I confronted him via text so many weeks ago.)

I called my mother and she said those words that I was so desperately craving to hear, “You’re going to be ok. I don’t think it’s what they think it is, I can feel it, everything is going to be fine. And even if it is serious we are going to do what we need to do and get through this.” I asked her to come and visit, timing couldn’t have been better for she arrived Thursday night before the long weekend. By this point I had already seen the specialist who said that it didn’t look like what they thought it was but biopsied it just in case and took all kinds of other tests, some intrusive, some not so much. I got the results that Saturday. Cancer free. What a gift, what a relief, what a treasure. Time to celebrate, LET’S GO SHOPPING!!!

Given that the final stages of this saga came to an end this weekend, I’m still not sure what it is exactly that I have to learn from this. The married douche was a situation outside of myself and given that he wasn’t the first but most definitely the worst I have to ask myself what kind of energy is it that I’m putting out there to attract this? On a positive note, he was magical, for a very brief amount of time, I was enamored, totally smitten and loved every second of it! Aside from the cheating lying sack of shit doucher-ness, he was so very close to what I am looking for it was enchanting and for that I am grateful.

As for the cancer scare, what a surreal feeling, to be faced with your mortality.  I’ve always prided myself on not being afraid of death, and I’m not. I knew that if it turned out to be really bad, I would forgo treatment, move to a tropical island somewhere and spend my remaining days in the sun by the ocean, signing and dancing until my death. (You might be able to forgive my dramatic flair if you remember that I’m an artist.) And yet, there was a sadness, I am still young, I have a lot of things that I’d still like to accomplish, I have not travelled the entire globe yet, I have paintings that I’d still like to paint, grant scholarships that I’d still like to start, people that I’d still like to meet, dancing nights out with friends that I’d still like to experience, a wonderful man that I’d still like to find and, if the stars align just right, a child or two that I’d still like to pop out.

Now that my health has been cleared and there are no more otherwise engaged men looking to jump my bones I awaken to a new day. “On to the next!” My brother always says. I cried with him over skype about everything and he told me that he wished he could be here to hug me, I cried more feeling a deep sense of pride for the man that my brother has grown into. And on to the next it is. My paintings are awaiting my brushes and new ideas are awaiting linen and furry handcuffs. My friends are waiting for the next dance partay and somewhere out there is a good man looking to meet me. My heart is open, I’m looking for you too, don’t give up, I’m not.

Posted on May 25, 2015 Leave a comment

Letting Go

There is a sadness in letting go. A kind of mourning, even when you know it’s for the best. That part of your life, however big or small, will forever be forgotten. All of the negative associations will no longer have the same emotional impact, which is great, but all of the good leaves as well. Not necessarily the memories of them, but rather the emotions attached to them and regardless of how hurtful a situation was the great moments were truly great and filled you with such passion and hope and freedom that it becomes a real loss. You know that as soon as you sincerely let go you will no longer have any emotional attachment to it. With freedom from the pain you also loose the magic that you experienced and that is the bonifide loss.

If only it had been real this time.

A quote by David Whyte from, Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words

“FORGIVENESS is a heartache and difficult to achieve because strangely, it not only refuses to eliminate the original wound, but actually draws us closer to its source. To approach forgiveness is to close in on the nature of the hurt itself, the only remedy being, as we approach its raw center, to reimagine our relation to it.”

Posted on May 13, 2015 Leave a comment


Cambie Sun – Mad As They Come

I’m listening to myself for what feels like the first time in my life. I’m making decisions based on how wonderful they feel, rather than what I think I’m supposed to be doing according to some ideals that were created by anyone but me. We humans are taught at such young ages that there are definitions and rules to everything and if we don’t fit into some specific definition and follow the (ever changing) rules we will somehow perish into a life of abyss, forever abandoned, forever forgotten, never to be loved.

What if the love that I have for myself is enough? What if the respect I give myself in listening to my heart for the very first time in my life is enough? What then? Do I go about living the rest of my days a single? Not if I have anything to say about it. The love that I have for myself is enough, which means there’s so much more to share now that I’m no longer stealing it from anyone else in an attempt to validate my existence. Every love stolen is a love lost, sold to the highest bidder, only to be left with the void that was never satisfied to begin with. Love thyself and ye shall be plenteous. My quote.

Looking back I think of all of the times that I questioned everything, doubted so much and worried about minute details that only I would have noticed. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I dress the wrong way? Do I curse too much? Do I have too much experience? Do I have too little experience? Am I interesting enough? Am I witty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I sweet enough? Are my thighs too thick? My hair too frizzy? Am I good enough, beautiful enough, sexy enough, intellectual enough, spiritual enough, fit enough, too fit, healthy enough, wild enough, mellow enough, exciting, adventurous, confident, humble, forthright, mindful, subtle, subjective, objective, compassionate, righteous, and on and on and on and on. So many choices, so many decisions, so many actions, so many moments, so many experiences or lack there of, affected by my fears of inadequacies, in every contradictable regard.

What a waste!
All of that time
spent worrying,
could have been put to better use.
“STOP YOUR BRAIN” they say.

I have so many questions all of the time about everything and yet at the same time, I have no questions about anything ever. How is this possible? How is anything possible? What does it matter in the end whether something is possible or not? What does anything matter ever? If I were a celebrity and a sex tape were to be released and my reputation tarnished, 50 years down the line, would it have any relevance what-so-ever on anything that has occurred since? Would anyone even remember, or better yet, would anyone even care?

What about others? What about family, friends and lovers? How do you gage a connection? How do you gage your own perception in a connection? Is there any way to tell for sure, whether a connection is mutual, and if it is is there any way to gage how balanced yours is in relation to the other, and if there is does it really matter? In certain theories your Oneness is the only perception necessary to exist and if you are ONE with the Universe everyone else’s love or lack of love for you is irrelevant because you love them and that’s all the Universe needs and you are the Universe… the important bit being about your perception, because without it you wouldn’t have any experiences of any kind and what would be the point in that?

Quote by Rainer Marie Rilke from “Letters to a Young Poet”:

“To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. For this reason young people, who are beginners in everything, cannot yet know love: they have to learn it. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered close about their lonely, timid, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and so loving, for a long while ahead and far on into life, is — solitude, intensified and deepened loneness for him who loves. Love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate — ?), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world for himself for another’s sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things. Only in this sense, as the task of working at themselves (“to hearken and to hammer day and night”), might young people use the love that is given them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must save and gather for a long, long time still), is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives as yet scarcely suffice.”

What about the idea of Oneness being about connectivity to self, all of self, not just the higher senses or the enlightened psyche, but all of the physical beauty, psychological mess and everything in between. Do you remember what it felt like when you were a kid and did something that you knew was wrong and felt so guilty about it that you had to confess to your mom. It might have taken you an entire anxiety ridden week to build up the courage to ask her if she had a moment to talk. You tell her your fears and she looks at you without judgment in complete compassion and tells you that everything is going to be ok. You feel a great sense of release and whatever it was that was ailing you seems to float away. Perhaps truly being One and connected is to love yourself so much that you acknowledge your own glory and recognize your right to be loved by others, not just the loving of others in all of their glory and mess, but to also be loved by others in all of your glory and mess. Maybe Oneness is about the interplay between the relationships in your life in how you treat others but also in how you allow others to treat you, because true satisfaction comes from the acknowledgment of magnificence, as well as, the desire for more.

A Quote by Tom Stoppard from his play “The Real Thing”:

“It’s to do with knowing and being known. I remember how it stopped seeming odd that in biblical Greek, knowing was used for making love. Whosit knew so-and-so. Carnal knowledge. It’s what lovers trust each other with. Knowledge of each other, not of the flesh but through the flesh, knowledge of self, the real him, the real her, in extremis, the mask slipped from the face. Every other version of oneself is on offer to the public. We share our vivacity, grief, sulks, anger, joy… we hand it out to anybody who happens to be standing around, to friends and family with a momentary sense of indecency perhaps, to strangers without hesitation. Our lovers share us with the passing trade. But in pairs we insist that we give ourselves to each other. What selves? What’s left? What else is there that hasn’t been dealt out like a deck of cards? Carnal knowledge. Personal, final, uncompromised. Knowing, being known. I revere that. Having that is being rich, you can be generous about what’s shared — she walks, she talks, she laughs, she lends a sympathetic ear, she kicks off her shoes and dances on the tables, she’s everybody’s and it don’t mean a thing, let them eat cake; knowledge is something else, the undealt card, and while it’s held it makes you free-and-easy and nice to know, and when it’s gone everything is pain.”

Because I know that I already have everything that I need.
Because I so deeply want more.
Because I so deeply want it all.

My day in all of it’s glorious entirety is my prayer to You.

Posted on May 10, 2015 1 Comment


I had a dream last night that I was running and shooting my way through Mad Max meets Sleep No More meets the Upper West Side (my hood). I was running around shooting everyone, like one of those 1990’s video games and then, all of a sudden John Lithgow appears hanging from a rope that’s strung to a helicopter above and says, “Grab my hand, I’m here to save you.” I wake up.

Posted on April 29, 2015 Leave a comment



Is it possible to be hedonistic in love?

Hedonism as defined by The Free Dictionary by Farlex:

Pursuit of or devotion to pleasure especially to the pleasure of the senses.

Philosophy: the doctrine holding that only what is pleasant or has pleasant consequences is intrinsically good.

Psychology: the doctrine holding that behavior is motivated by the desire for pleasure and the avoidance of pain.

Indulgence in sensual pleasure.

Reading these definitions I think, ok, sounds good. Devotion to pleasure sounds a little excessive, but “devotion” to anything sounds a bit excessive to me in most cases and avoiding pain isn’t really possible, at least I’ve never been able to completely avoid pain, nor would I have wanted to because it’s helped me develop the greatest aspects of myself through the transcendence of it all. That being said, pursuing pleasure as a means to pleasant consequences and intrinsic goodness sounds wonderful. How could I ever have thought of hedonism in a negative way?

Pursuing a path of spiritual consciousness can often lead to a kind of divide, and I personally have struggled with my own contradictory natural instincts for the pursuit of pleasure and lavishness and sensuality paralleling the pursuit of a spiritual consciousness, a God force and compassion, receiving as much pleasure from taking as I do in giving, so long as my intention is genuine. My struggles and misinterpretations most likely stem from my Catholic upbringing, which follows the Epicurean version of hedonistic philosophy in that the pursuit of pleasure is a must to become one with God, but only through the negation of certain more sensual pleasures, such as, sexual, materialistic and the appreciation aesthetics for the sake of aesthetics, all believed in their excess to guide humans farther away from God.

The latter being a problem because my main career’s primary focus is on creating a picture that holds a certain aestheticism, my natural inclination from birth being to recognize and appreciate everything beautiful, even so far as to create beauty from the ugly. Aside from the fact that I truly believe that sensual pleasure is a gift from God, not a curse or a test on psyche, and that materialism can be directly linked to aestheticism in the most magically magnificent way, leading to a kind of sublimity, contrary to many religious philosophies.

What I have come to realize is that it is the intention that creates the divide not the desire in and of itself. I will always be hedonistic in many ways and take great pleasure in these aspects of myself, as I will also always be compassionate and take great pleasure in these aspects. I recently came across a term, Ethical Hedonism defined by Michel Onfray as, “…an introspective attitude to life based on taking pleasure yourself and pleasuring others, without harming yourself or anyone else… defining an ethical hedonism, a joyous utilitarianism, and a generalized aesthetic of sensual materialism that explores how to use the brain and the body’s capacities to their fullest extent — while restoring philosophy to a useful role in art, politics, and everyday life and decisions.” (Yes I am quoting from Wikipedia)

I have researched Onfray a little since this discovery and will be buying at least one book to read and dissect and although I don’t follow atheism as he does, given that my intentions are very spiritually inclined, I do generally agree with his philosophies in regard to religion and the corruption of the natural beauty of human nature through negation.

So the question remains, how can I incorporate my natural nature for pleasure with my natural nature in seeking enlightenment, Hedonism in Love. Intention as the source of desire in any given aspect, that my love for materialism is founded in the appreciation of the beauty projected by the creator, that a magical piece of music is no more lovely than a stunning Armani dress because of the love that I feel in its presence not through the ego driven admiration of others, through the magnificence in expressing your desire and love to someone who is willing and able to express his desire and love with you, and through compassion, in that the happiness and joy of all those around me is just as justified and equally important to my own, creating an existence in perfect balance as the objective.

Posted on April 26, 2015 Leave a comment

The Youth of Bacchus  -William Bouguereau

The Youth of Bacchus

-William Bouguereau


“Why are you single?” He asks, heavy lidded, a provocative smile curling the corners of his lips. His icy blue eyes swallowed by his pupils the size of black holes. Could be attraction … could be cocaine. “I hate that question.” I respond furrowing my brow. I like this guy, I think to myself.

I’ve been asked this question before. I guess I’ve had moments of such charm and charisma that my being single was a subject of great confusion. Or maybe he was just trying to seduce me. Truth is, it’s not seducing or complimentary. It leads me to ask the question to myself, which then leads to over analytical thoughts that come to some pretty good, logical, introspective, accurate and true answers; yet, at the same time, always seem to feel like excuses.

I start to explain the last relationship I was in and why it didn’t work – I stop. Sigh. Then say, “I don’t know, maybe I’m just really bad at dating.” He laughs a little, a real laugh, not forged but endearing. His eyes smile like he understands, doesn’t judge and appreciates my honesty. I shrug and smile relief.

It’s the truth in all of the logic I still can’t explain with any feelings of comfort why it is that I am still single. I decided about 9 months ago that I was going to give up active dating.

“You’re stunning.” He says, with those eyes. I’m silenced by those eyes. Those heavy lidded, icy blue beauties. I want so desperately to fall into them, to be swept away with his tide.

I decided about 9 months ago that I was going to get off-line, my first step to non-active dating. I have been on and offline for the past 10 years, stopping when I met someone ‘special’ and hoping back on soon after it would end. I came to realize that this might be part of the problem. I have grown tired of all of the expectations, all of the pressure and preconceived notions associated with online dating. Soon after making this active decision to be inactive in this area, I came across an article written by Brandon Montgomery called, “I’m a Guy Who Stopped Dating Because I’ve Found the Next Best Thing”. My synopsis of the article is this: he talks about the games we tend to play in dating and how tired he is with all of it. He mentions still wanting to find someone special, but not in how contemporary Western culture has trivialized romantic relations to base, superficial interplay meant to distract rather than connect, and that he’s decided to take up hobbies instead. A man who has experienced what I’ve experienced in this confusing, modern interpretation of wooing through sexting, coupling, one nighting, booty calling, polyamorous invites, friend Fucking, too many to choose from, paralysis by analysis, time of disarray and dissonance, in other words, a man by my own heart. I wonder if he’s still single?

The banter is quick, witty and fun. I haven’t been this engaged and stimulated at the same time in a long time, I’m on tonight, I think to myself. Thank God because so is he. His hands comfortably making their way from shoulder to waist to hip back up to arm. He leans in, his sly expression, dimpled cheeks and naughty smile are so tempting. I turn my cheek where his lips land, soft and warm. He says, “No, we’re not going to make out in a bar.” “No, we’re not.” I say. He’ll try again, I think.

Ironically, since hoping offline I’ve met and engaged in more possibilities naturally, simply by being open and honest and friendly with encounters on the street, the gym, watering holes, etc. Not just any encounter mind you, but those specials spots that you look at and think, hmmm, nice. None of them have flourished into a romantic relationship or even intercourse… in case you were wondering; nosy Nelly… but I have had some magnificent experiences. A shift happened and a realization ensued. I spent the better part of my dating career focusing on what I didn’t like in my partner du jour, whereas, since, I’ve been focusing on what I do like in these fellows.

He erects his torso, his body not budging an inch, his hand keeping contact and the banter continues; the compliments flowing from his lips like maple syrup on pancakes. I smile at the flattery and maybe say a thank you of sorts. A strangers flattery, although nice is no way to my heart and certainly not to my pants. I ask him to stop. He says, “Ok, I’ll stop, no more compliments.” Just as that wicked smile sparks his cute dimples and I think, he’s cute, I say, “You’re cute.” He says, “Likewise.” He leans in again and I turn the other cheek and he says, “No, there will be no kissing in the bar.” His hands feel comfortable, he’s got a nice face, I like talking with him, I like looking at him, I like how the world is disappearing around me.

This shift in perception has been an awakening in and of itself. I don’t know what the end result will be, I have hope and when I’m lucky faith, but no clear, concrete outcome. It’s not like going to school to graduate with a degree. That’s certain – you go to school, study, hand assignments in on time, pass exams and even if you are not the top of your class, odds are in your favor that most likely you will graduate with a pretty piece of paper stating that you are some kind of expert in some sort of area. So many people claim and totally bank on being supposed experts in dating, match making, mating, marriage etc., but obviously there are 50 million variables that will negate their expertise in a split second, like a diet, their ‘answers’ may work for some but not all. I will go so far as to say, not even the majority, when 40% of all marriages end in divorce and some state that a mere 17% of the remaining 60% are genuinely happy together. Where does that leave the rest of us? We kind of have to wing it with intention and awareness believing that the outcome is out of our hands. At least that’s what I believe, because every time I’ve placed it in my hands, or someone else hands, I’ve failed.

His hands make their way to my back, he’s strong but not forceful, confident but not arrogant and genuinely enticing. He leans in again and for a split second I think, I should turn away, but I don’t. His lips meet mine and they are perfectly soft and warm. Finally a man who knows how to kiss, it’s been a while. He wraps his arms around me and holds me in strong comfort. I haven’t been kissed like this in a very long time, I think to myself. “mmmhmmm.” He says. In those moments I’m not shy or awkward or clumsy or ego driven or uncomfortable or insecure, I’m just perfect. It happens so rarely, that kind of connection, that kind of heat. I don’t know if it will ever happen with him again, but I am sure that he turned that lightbulb back on. It was burnt out, his company and his kiss replaced it with an Energy Star LED; a bulb that uses only the right kind of energy, thatwill clearly light my path and take a millennia to burn out. He certainly has been some kind of special experience, one that I am grateful to have had and will remember in glorious detail, for a long time to come.




As the outcome lays somewhere else I choose to have faith, all while acknowledging every conceivable possibility, including spending the rest of my days single (which are many many days to come, given that I’m still young), to meeting the proverbial man of my dreams, to everything in between – while trusting in that feeling – you know the one I’m talking about – that feeling that happens so rarely, but is so familiar, that one that you forget exists until it happens again and you say – Hi, I forgot about you, I’m so happy you’re back, thank you for coming, just between you and me, you’re my favorite.

Posted on April 19, 2015 Leave a comment


Ressurection Is a Metaphore

“…remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to loose…”

Passion – Inspirational Video

I have this thing that I like to say in the right situation, “we start dying the moment we are born.” It came to me while having a conversation about living, not just living, rather, truly living life to the fullest and the fears that keep a vast majority of individuals from doing that. Often this phrase is received with an obvious sigh of discontent, others focusing on the aspect of aging and death rather than my intention; which is, once you truly accept the fact that you are going to die don’t you start to feel like every fear, every hesitation, every doubt, every complacency, every undesired resignation, every false denial, every story we tell ourselves in order to justify our mundane existence, that we, in fact, chose to create and which we, in fact, can choose to change, is completely irrelevant.

We all start dying the moment we are born. What a freedom that is! You can do and be whatever it is that you want to do and be. You can live the life your soul dreams of because what have you got to loose in the end? Nothing, we are all going to die anyway, so there is literally nothing to loose. The end of your life is going to be like the end of everyone else’s life, over, and what will you look back on? A life that you played “safe”, where you followed all the “rules” and fit in, where you didn’t rock any boats or take any risks or follow any dreams. Why? Because you were afraid to fail? Who cares, all those people who would have judged you are going to die off eventually anyway, just like you. Because you were afraid you wouldn’t fit in? Who cares, all those people who would have judged you are going to die off eventually anyway, just like you. Because you were just plain afraid? Who cares, at least if you died taking a risk at pursuing a passion you could say, I followed my heart. Isn’t that something, rather than living a long life filled with fear, doubt, complacency, anger, judgment, pain?

Who cares? Why do you care?

Imagine this, you dream of opening up a café that sells the best coffee and Panini’s in town, with homemade organic cakes and cookies and local artwork on the walls. You start expressing your dream but the people around you start projecting their fears and insecurities, saying things like, “…you know 9 out of 10 restaurants fail in the first year…” or “…who’s going to want your overpriced coffee and cakes when there’s a Starbucks on every corner…” You begin to doubt your dream and start to believe their projections and stop pursuing what you feel in your heart would make you happy, only to die 70 years later after working 50 years at a desk, surrounded by acquaintances that you never really liked, living your life according to cliché’s you chose to believe only to die anyway.

Now, imagine this, you dream of opening up a café that sells the best coffee and Panini’s in town, with homemade organic cakes and cookies and local artwork on the walls. You start expressing your dream but the people around you start projecting their fears and insecurities, saying things like, “…8 out of 10 small business’ fail…” or “…with Starbucks on every corner you’ll tank in less than a year…” You choose to ignore these projections and start taking business classes at the local college. You start learning things like, “…the demographic for people wanting specialty coffee and treats in a welcoming atmosphere is on the rise…” “…it’s actually a good thing to have a Starbucks right beside you. Instead of stealing your business, you get the spillover from their store. “They’ll do all of your marketing for you, and your sales will soar.”

You’re now in school, learning how to run and operate your very own business and are surrounded by individuals who hope to do the same, rather than be surrounded by fear based projections, you are surrounded by passion, faith and persistence. You are surrounded by people who’ve chosen that they would rather take the risk and possibly fail than to never try at all. We’re all going to die eventually anyway, so why would you want to do anything less. You actively pursue your dreams knowing that you will fall along the way, but in harmony knowing that you will look back without regret and in faith knowing that you will succeed with something at some point if you never give up. The cards might change along the way, but the game is always the same.

Some people are fortunate enough to be born with this knowing, this motivation, this passion and pursue it from the moment of consciousness. Others struggle along the way, giving in to fear and doubt, making decisions out of insecurities and desperation, but it is never too late to take a chance. It is never too late to pursue your dreams. It is never too late to figure out what your dreams are. It is never too late to create memories that you want to remember for the rest of your life then die with a smile, saying I gave it all I could and regret nothing. It was a great ride and I wouldn’t change a thing. It was so great that I’d do it all over again if you asked me to.

I write this on this holiday because resurrection is a metaphor. Everyone has the ability to rise from his or her walking dead life and change. We can create heaven on earth and it begins with you.

Posted on April 6, 2015 Leave a comment


Carry Me

Will you carry me please? I promise I’m not too heavy and that it won’t be for that long. I just need to be carried right now.

I’ve developed a life, thus far, where I haven’t ever allowed anyone to carry me. I have fallen into depths of great sorrow, self-indulgent pity trips and rage driven righteousness and picked myself up out of them on my own; sometimes with the help of analysts and ‘after the fact’ discussions with friends and family, but never really allowing anyone to experience the break down and help carry me through it. I thought I was being strong, and in some ways I was. This autonomy gave me freedom. I know from concrete experience that I am perfectly able to take care of myself, by myself, for myself. I am self-aware and hold myself accountable. I know that whatever I put my mind to I can achieve… but here’s the thing… the thing that I’m coming to realize more and more as time goes on… there is great strength in allowing yourself to be carried when you need it. There is great strength in admitting your pain to the ears of someone who loves you so much, they want to listen. There is great strength in allowing your self to be that vulnerable in fear. Some people fear heights; I tended to fear intimacy as I subconsciously projected it as a symbol of the loss of self. If I was to allow myself to be vulnerable I feared that I would also loose my self. Ironically, what I’ve come to realize is that the only way to truly be intimate and vulnerable is to know one’s self enough to be brave enough to do so. In essence having a great connection with self is the only way we can truly connect with others.

The question remains, is it too late for me. Have I developed my life to such an extent, in such context that I am incapable of connecting with a lover in that way? Of course I think of it in romantic terms, but for the sake of existence it can be any interpersonal relationship. I’ve met many people throughout my life who seem to be incapable of true intimacy, who view relationships as satiation rather than connection, who follow their ego rather than their heart. Usually, finding others who fit into the same sub-category as you is comforting, but I don’t find this comforting, I find this disturbing, in that it leads to so many other questions about humanity and what we have created, a psyche removed. We are beings of interconnectedness yet have created a world that thrives, in many ways, on disconnection.

On the other hand, I have also witnessed true love and connection, which does give me hope, however foolish some, might find this. I have decided to actively live in that hope, a new freedom coursing through my veins, the freedom of self in love. Maybe one day, I will be so lucky as to meet someone whom I want to carry me, someone who I will allow to see me in my vulnerability in all of its ugliness and beauty. Maybe one day I will be so fortunate as to meet him, be with him, love him and be loved by him. Just maybe, it’s not too late.

By Walt Whitman

Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet….the effect upon me of my early
life….of the ward and city I live in….of
the nation,
The latest news….discoveries, inventions,
societies….authors old and new,
My diner, dress, associates, looks, business,
compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or
woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks – or of myself….
or ill-doing….or loss or lack of money…
or depression or exaltations,
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands, amused, complacent, compassionating,
idle, unitary,
Looks down, is erect, bends an arm on an impalpable
certain rest,
Looks with its sidecurved head, curious what will
come next,
Both in and out of the game, and watching and
wondering at it.

I believe in you my soul….the other I am must not
abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me in the grass….loose the stop from
your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want….
not custom or lecture, not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how we lay in June, such transparent
summer morning;
You settled your head athwart my hips and gently
turned over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my boson-bone, and
plunged your tongue to my barestript heart,
And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till
you held my feet.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace
and knowledge that pass all the argument
of the earth;
And I know that the hand of God is the elderhand
of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the eldest
brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my
brothers…and the women my sisters
and lovers,
And that a keelson of the creation is love.

Posted on March 30, 2015 Leave a comment



A quote by Dodinsky.  Regardless of how cheesy D’s quotes seem to be, I almost always relate, and they almost always come to me at just the right time.

This particular quote hits home for me. I’ve recently let go of an issue that has plagued me virtually my entire life, one that was damaging to my soul and my entire sense of being, one that attracted all of the wrong kinds of relationships at the right times, one that I’ve been aware of and struggling with for many years. The fear of letting go of the comfort of discord was sometimes greater than the faith that I needed to release it and live in peace. These last couple of weeks have been weeks of major transcendence and because of that came the emotional struggles that accompany the fears of letting go. I let go. I refuse to project my personal bullshit onto anyone. I accept others exactly as they are. I take full responsibility for myself. I choose to progress to greener pastures and I choose to live my life in happiness and freedom and gratitude and faith and hopefulness. I choose to continue to believe that all things are possible. I choose greatness and greatness shall ensue.

Posted on March 4, 2015 3 Comments