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The next step isn’t always clear. What an understatement. Motivated people always know where they are going, the voice in my head tells me. Nope. Wrong. Turns out we all must live with uncertainty. Talking to others more than I have in the past has served to underline this truth of daily existence. Uncertainty is a driver. The question is: How do I keep it from driving me nuts? Best way to beat it, I’ve found, is to stay connected to my family (thank God it’s functional) and to surround myself with people striving for the same goals. A community of like-minded people. I’m being deliberately vague here. Everyone has his or her unique tribe. Most days I have a certain set of goals to accomplish. Some small. Some not so small. I always leave at least a little time to make it up as I go along. Some days are broad canvases waiting to be painted with…whatever. Other days are jam packed with things to do. Most of my days are consumed with a combination of survival needs and creative projects crying for attention. Twenty years ago, I made the transition from the binding ties of a corporate job to the freedom of planning my days according to what I wanted to do. Most people dream of this freedom, but I’ve learned that it comes with a price. Freedom is worthless without a purpose . Without purpose, my mind wanders into bad neighborhoods. Worry. Anxiety. Depression. You know what I’m talking about. I’ve discovered that my purpose changes as I change. I am like a sea captain adjusting my course as my inner landscape changes. My course also changes depending upon the feedback I get in response to my actions. If I can’t get over an obstacle, I get around it. If I can’t do either, I find something else to do. When it becomes painfully obvious that I’ve hit a dead end, it’s time to move on. Life is full of challenges. At this point, I believe the central point of human existence is to set positive challenges. I don’t look for trouble. I try not to create unnecessary problems. Life is already hard enough, thank you very much. Creating positive challenges helps to relieve my anxiety. They also take my mind off of the uncertainty. I listen to my heart. I accept my needs and limitations. I move forward from where I am. Still, the future remains stubbornly uncertain. All I am given is today. Let me make the most of it. I wish the same for you. #community #conclusions #worry #depression #findyourtribe #followyourbliss #security #happiness #intention #creativity #uncertainty #wisdom #everyday #anxiety #peace #groundofbeing #manifesting #Being #heart #followyourheart

Elementary , a modern day adaptation of the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle character Sherlock Holmes, is one of the best TV series I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s one of the best “any form of entertainment” I’ve ever seen. I know. That’s saying a lot. Here’s why I’m saying it. The series is brilliantly written. Every episode is unique. The substance and plot of each episode is fascinating and vividly portrayed. Throw in a twist ending begging for deduction, and it’s hard not to binge watch. The character of Sherlock Holmes, interpreted in the series by the British actor Jonny Lee Miller, is as unique as the episodes. Miller plays Sherlock as a super-intelligent, quirky misanthrope bristling with energy and childlike curiosity. He is confident to the point of arrogance, while simultaneously vulnerable due to his recovery from heroin addiction. Holmes is written as a passionate man of character badly in need of social skills. As a devoted detective/consultant to the NYPD and formerly Scotland Yard, Holmes has raised his crime solving skills to an art form. Johnny Lee Miller plays the role like no other Sherlock Holmes before him. He is at once a cynical curmudgeon and a euphoric child fearlessly delving into major crimes of all persuasions. His quirky facial expressions, postures, and body movements consistently surprise and entertain. And, Miller delivers his lines in a manner that is equally entertaining. Holmes, in addition to his myriad interests, is a scientist often seen conducting experiments to expand his already encyclopedic knowledge in a single-minded effort to elevate his detective skills. He also does it for the pure joy of discovery. Miller’s energy and driving force animate the endearing characters surrounding him, most notably, a female version of Doctor Watson played by Lucy Liu . Liu is the perfect foil for Holmes. She is a caring, compassionate woman, but she’s no push over. Liu plays a former surgeon who quits the profession due to the death of a patient during a surgical procedure she assisted in. The death is not entirely her fault, but the incident spins Watson off into another career as a Sober Companion where she meets Holmes. Liu plays the role with a simple elegance. She exudes feminine beauty combined with strength and intelligence in every scene. Watson is a high-spirited, emotional, and controlled person all at the same time. She’s apt to surprise, and never dull. Her stylish, understated wardrobe cleverly accents her powerful presence. Miller and Liu, to say the least, are consummate professional actors. They are eminently watchable opposite one another. I’ve developed a tremendous love and admiration for these two characters and actors. I can only use the word mesmerizing to describe the exchanges between them. Slowly, Holmes and Watson transform one another as the series progresses. Watson doesn’t allow the brash Holmes to trample over her, yet she displays a remarkable patience with his idiosyncrasies. It’s a heart opening experience to watch them grow together amidst the multiple seasons of riveting episodes. The main cast of characters is fleshed out by Aidan Quinn appearing as Captain “Tommy” Gregson, the Chief of Precinct 11, where Holmes and Watson assist. Quinn is another consummate professional who plays his role seamlessly. Detective Marcus Bell, played by Jon Michael Hill , completes the ensemble. They, too, have compelling character arcs throughout the series. Elementary spans seven seasons. It never gets old. It’s forever fresh and interesting. I’m watching it again on Hulu. Quality entertainment in a TV series like this one is a rare pearl in a sea of mediocrity. As an aside, I first discovered Jonny Lee Miller in the series Eli Stone . Miller has the lead role as a corporate attorney whose life and career are turned upside down when he starts seeing visions. I found Eli Stone to be a highly enjoyable comedy/drama series. It’s an especially touching and refreshing offering recommended for the heavy times we are living through. #SherlockHolmes #detectives #crimedrama #police #TVshows #deduction #addiction #logic #psychology #drama #LucyLiu #crimedetection #Murder #actors #crime

Are you stuck in the land of sadness? Do you always come back to this all-too-familiar place, no matter what you do to get out? Surprisingly, I’ve found very little in the annals of Psychology relating to prolonged periods of sadness besides labeling these states as some variation of depression. It may be called Clinical Depression, Major Depression, Schizophrenia, Anhedonia, or some other name neatly categorized in the manual of psychological diagnosis. What if the primary cause of, let’s call it, “sadness for no reason,” was emotional “stuckness?” It’s like being stuck in first gear, or being emotionally tone deaf. It’s like feeling only grays and blacks instead of experiencing the full spectrum of human emotion. I like to think of the full spectrum as the colors of a rainbow. What if there was a way to change emotional mono-tonality into a state of emotional multi-tonality? What causes emotional mono-tonality? The most likely answer is fear of being hurt. The little boy or girl inside us needs protection from some form of emotional criticism, non-acceptance, or abuse. The subconscious response is to dampen or completely shut off the emotions. It’s a good strategy for a defenseless little boy or girl. However, it becomes a problem later in life when a void of emotions and the program cutting off feelings continues to run causing depression, limited capacity, and self-destructive behavior. I can vividly remember the moment when I shut down my emotions. I was a thirteen-year-old boy standing in an open field outside my Junior High School. As I recall the experience, I’m struck with feelings of uncertainty, insecurity, and something I can only describe as the raw pain of existence rushing in. These feeling were overwhelming. I reacted by flipping a mental switch to turn off the uncomfortable feelings. Maybe I was a Yogi in my past life. Who knows? I just did the deed, oblivious of the effect it was destined to have on my future self. After a morning meditation yesterday, the idea hit me that prolonged, “unreasonable” periods of sadness can be the result of “frozen emotions.” Emotions are supposed to circulate rather than remain fixed. Could my constant effort to control my thoughts and emotions be the cause of the lingering sadness on the sea bed of my emotional psychosphere? “Of course it can”, I told myself. A frozen emotional state is like a river or a lake frozen solid. Nothing moves. No movement leads to stagnation. Picture a pond where the source of fresh water has been blocked. What does it look like eventually? Emotional stagnation leads to sadness and depression. Constantly struggling to “stay positive” can easily lead to the opposite result. Fixing thoughts and emotions on a single desired state of feeling/being is the definition of “freezing.” We can wind up trapped in a state of grays and blacks. The big question is where is the fine line between over-control and adequate control of thoughts and emotions. There is an interesting theory presented by Doctor David Burns in his famous book, “ Feeling Good .” He says, basically, that thoughts determine emotions. I believe there is a fair amount of truth to this idea. In his book, Burns goes on to identify a series of self-defeating thought patterns that lead to sadness, depression, and unproductive behavior. All of this makes sense, and Burns claims to have had a significant success rate with his methods for reversing self-defeating thought patterns. I’ve tried Burns’ method. It can help, especially in the short run, but I find it incomplete. Talking back to misconceptions becomes too mechanical and laborious after a while. And, it really doesn’t get to the root of the problem: the feelings themselves. My personal experience teaches me that over-controlling thoughts and emotions can lead, ironically, to sadness and depression. Why? Because emotions need room to breathe. They need time and space to unwind and, if necessary, to heal. It would be lovely to constantly walk around in a relaxed and released state of being. I’ve been advised to let go of my emotions and allow them to just “arise.” Sounds wonderful. I wish it worked for me. Here’s the paradox. The demands of everyday life don’t provide us with enough time to allow our emotions to unwind, express, and heal. If you don’t have to work; if you aren’t in relationships; if you have no goals, then, by all means, go ahead and feel however the hell you want to. Just don’t be surprised if you find yourself alone and homeless. So what’s the answer? It’s obviously an individual thing. We’ve all heard and read that it’s necessary to carve out alone time to rest and recharge. It can be a long walk in nature. It can be painting a picture. It can be anything that helps you relax and enjoy. For me, it doesn’t stop there. I’m currently using a psycho-spiritual approach to get my stuck emotions moving. With no intention of sounding overly dramatic, it’s also something I do to approach my “existential dilemma.” What I’m about to say is not an attempt to advocate or promote anything. If it resonates, then fine. If not, we can still be friends. My approach begins with regular meditation periods of about thirty minutes in the morning and just before bedtime. During these periods, I let my emotions out of their corral. In open fields, they can romp and kick without doing any damage to myself or any collateral damage to those around me. I do this meditation in conjunction with a tangible energy field that I tap into through my connection to the Trillium Awakening community of teachers and practitioners. I’m able to reach levels of peace, love and joy within myself aided by the Trillium energy transmission. I know. It sounds crazy, but it works for me. One of the benefits of this practice is an activation of my emotional core. What gets stirred up isn’t always pleasant, but it’s movement, and, I believe, steps in the right direction. I’ve also discovered an underlying program that affects my thoughts and emotions. It feels more like it is embedded in my body rather than in my mind. So, it is coming from the bottom up rather than the top down. The program needs to be understood and accepted. I might say “befriended.” Then, hopefully, it will unwind and lose its effect. Or transform into something more conducive to good feelings. My approach may sound totally bonkers to you. No problem. Find your own way. Whatever you do, let’s discover pathways to breathing in and breathing out the full spectrum of human emotions. Let’s experience the rainbow. #depression #activation #mentalhealth #happiness #consciousness #feelings #empathy #personalgrowth #relationships #enthusiasm #peace #love #innerpeace #connection #emotions #sadness

Night time at sea. No land in sight. The ocean is calm. It speaks to the pale moon in glittering reflections that please the silent orb. A giant freighter laden with shipping containers sails through the reflected light, trudging on its way to ports unknown. All is well until… A violent storm arrives, unexpected and unannounced. The sea is perplexed. The moon remains silent, unemotional, and mysterious. The storm spews banshee winds and battering rain. “How dare you disturb my tranquility,” says the sea to the storm. “You have no governance over me,” says the storm. “No governance? I am your Lord and Master. You obey me. I do not tolerate insolence. Be gone, and do not return, unless I ask you to.” The heavens explode with lightning and raucous thunder. To the sea, the thunder sounds like haughty peals of laughter. “Renegade! You flaunt the laws of nature.” In protest, the sea conjures up twenty foot waves. The furious waves boil, rise, and crash back down to the surface of the sea. Looking on, the full moon remains aloof, wrapped in shrouds of gray mist. A wave jerks the massive freighter upwards at a seventy-degree angle. When the wave rolls on, the ship smashes down as if an Olympic weightlifter had dropped it to the floor, thundering, after a six-hundred-pound overhead lift. “I’m sorry for your troubles,” the sea says to the freighter. It will take me a while to control this storm. Until then, you will have to abandon your cargo if you want to survive.” “My hull is impregnable. This puny storm is no match for my sturdy strength. I will shake off this weather like a dog shakes off water after a bath.” “You will drown if you don’t listen,” the sea answers. “I can’t allow this impudent storm to do as it pleases.” The freighter deigns not to answer. It lumbers along stubbornly, until it is lifted precipitously by another wave, and battered cruelly by howling gusts of wind and driving rain. “Arrogance. Idiocy. Rebelliousness. Will it ever end?” “I am the sea. Ageless. Alive since this planet’s birth. And yet, I must suffer fools, it seems, until the end of time, which may come, alas, much sooner than expected.” Photo By Elias Sch on Pixabay #politics #crisis #parables #history #commentary #conflict #metaphors #drama #reflections #struggle #mythicadventure #environment #allegories #evolution #currentevents

Pencils on their own are dumb creatures. Put them in the hands of children, and they are apt to draw Moms and Dads, third-grade teachers, tulips, and dragons. Pencils in the hands of adults are apt to write brilliant plays or novels. The work of Robert Ludlam and Lee Child comes to mind. In adult hands, pencils are also useful for solving complex mathematical problems. Or sketching landscapes, faces, and naked bodies. Or drawing just about anything, like plans for an invention to wash, dry, and put away a month’s worth of dirty dishes. What if pencils came with the option of connecting to a vast reservoir of primeval energy? In order to make your dreams come true? How does it Work? First, you’ll need a supercharged pencil at a cost of three-million-five-hundred-sixty thousand dollars for the special writing implement. Then, you’ll have to cough up another one-million-seven-hundred-fifty-three thousand dollars for the one-time primeval energy hookup. The primeval energy bubbles and bursts somewhere deep in the bowels of the Earth. The exact location is kept under wraps for the sake of National Security. Visually, I’m told by confidential sources, the energy resembles molten lava amped up on mild steroids. The connection to the energy is wireless. The special pencil allows the user to manifest (bring to life in three dimensions) anything the operator’s heart desires. If you are thinking: where do I get one? please be advised that the item is backordered well into the next century. And you must pass a battery of exhausting psychological tests to have the privilege of placing an order. Due to the long lead times required to process many of the orders, the manufacturer assumes science will develop the technology to extend human life spans and thereby delivery dates. If science fails to adequately extend human life spans, or if a purchaser tires of his or her two-century life, then the buyer will have the right to bequeath the order to a qualified heir. If you lack the patience or funding, then try making your dreams come true the old- fashioned way. Good luck. Now, then. What is your desire? #children #sketching #pencildrawing #couples #inventing #dreams #ScienceFiction #sex #reflections #copulation #lovemaking #imagination #whatif #erotica #manifest #fiction #musings #sexuality #drawing #fantasy

Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash.com Like the title of the song “Back On The Street Again,” we are all, in a sense, starting over thanks to the CV pandemic. It has caused untold suffering for millions of people around the world. And yet, in the midst of this dark night of the soul, it is becoming obvious that we will emerge, like a new-born butterfly, into the sunlight. We will resurface in these baptismal waters with more compassion, new skills, and better ways of doing things large and small. “Back On the Street Again” originated on an album simply titled “ Steve Gillette .” Released in 1968 by Vanguard Records, Gillette’s debut album became an immediate success. Many of his songs have since been recorded by other well-known folk music artists. “Back On the Street Again” and “ Darcy Farrow ” are two of Steve’s most popular songs. I’m also a big fan of two other songs on the album: “ A Number And A Name ” and “ The Bells In The Evening .” Enough said. Here’s my cover of “Back On The Street Again.” #phoenix #resilience #acousticguitar #sixtiesmusic #folkmusic #overcoming #Pandemic #coronavirus #songwriter #songs #artists #folkguitar #skills #playing #singing #perseverance

There once was a Goddess who preferred to talk to fully grown trees rather than people. While searching for a splendiferous tree, she instead encountered a gnarled tree stump–a whole forest of them, actually. The Goddess, named Marsha, was quite young. She was one-hundred-and sixty-two years old, which, in Goddess terms, is merely a teenager. Her parents, Atara and Gringold, lived in another quadrant of the galaxy. They had not heard from their daughter in over one hundred years. Obviously, they were very concerned about Marsha’s welfare. Since there isn’t space in a blog to artfully parse out Marsha’s backstory, I will give you the bare bones and then move on. For starters, Marsha really isn’t Marsha. Atara and Gringold gave her a proper Goddess name: Savasanti. It means “Beautiful Peace.” Like almost everything her parents tried to give her, Marsha discarded the name in favor of something else. This is not to say there is anything wrong with the name Marsha. I am only pointing out that it is unheard of to refuse a given name in the world of Gods and Goddesses. As the dual suns beamed down on the idyllic world of Aleya, an argument ensued between Marsha and her parents in the parlor of their majestic mansion built on the highest bows of a giant Grazanga tree. (The fruit of a Grazanga tree resembles a football-sized pasticcio nut, by the way. They make a delicious and nourishing grab-and-go meal for a God or Goddess, either raw, roasted, salted or unsalted). Shouting on Aleya is a rare event, especially between parents and their children. Nevertheless, the shouting between Marsha and her parents was audible on the marshy plain thirty feet below and outward to the neighboring tree mansions. As the conflict escalated, Atara and Gringold reddened with embarrassment and anger while Marsha’s spirits soared. Marsha always felt powerful when she irritated her parents. Whereas they had every right to lose their tempers, Atara and Gringold, like the good parents they were, did not. However, the decibel count of the exchange increased to a level where it became necessary for a peace abiding neighbor to call the tree police to restore the tranquil vibrations of the neighborhood. The arrival of the tree police only served to heighten Atara and Gringold’s level of frustration and embarrassment with their daughter. Exasperated, Atara cut Marsha off in the middle of a tirade. “As long as you live in this house, you will obey our rules.” Marsha looked back at her mother, literally fuming with her long auburn locks ablaze. “Our patience with you is at and end,” Atara added. “Your father and I expect you to curb your insolence, your selfishness, and your complete lack of gratitude.” “If your behavior doesn’t improve,” Gringold said, “I will send you to Marsh Point where they will teach you discipline and how to act like a proper Goddess. This is your last warning, Savasanti.” Marsha, as she was known to herself and a handful of insolent friends, glared defiantly at her parents. After a few tense seconds, Atara implored, “If you won’t listen to us, talk to the trees. They are wise.” “The trees are stupid. They say the same things you say.” And with that, Marsha stormed out of the room trailing behind her a long mane of smoke. The next day, Marsha abruptly left home for worlds unknown. Due to her premature departure, Marsha never learned the arcane secrets of navigating billions of light years across the galaxy and landing gracefully at a pre-determined destination. She arrived in Earth orbit, because the planet looked inviting from outer space, only to plunge like a meteor into the sands of the Gobi Desert in a failed attempt to land smoothly. I assure you that “failed attempt” is an exceedingly kind description of the event. Marsha spent nearly a century at the bottom of a deep crater gouged out of the shifting and scorching sands of the Gobi Desert. The immense force of the impact left Marsha in a coma for most of this time. To be exact, the impact left Marsha’s cells in a coma because she no longer had a body. Her tissues lay scattered across a concave pit in the darkened depths of the crater. Over time, Marsha’s body reassembled, cell by cell. When her body was whole again, it still required a decade to recover from the shock of the explosive landing. And then one day, Marsha’s eyes blinked open. She remembered nothing. She wondered, Who am I? What am I doing here . For days, Marsha lay in the pit of the crater. Memories fluttered into her brain, slowly at first, and then quickly, like a drought stricken lake fully restored in a deluge of spring rain. She knew who she was and where she had come from. With every beat of her heart, Marsha grew more curious about the planet she had landed on. She knew there was more to the new world than the desolate hole she found herself in. She remembered seeing lush land masses and vast oceans from her orbit in outer space. Without another thought, Marsha jumped into the embrace of the darkness and flew out of the crater into the harsh sun and endless sands of the desert. In any new situation, the first thing to do was to talk to a wise tree. This was especially true if you were not fond of people, as in Marsha’s case. Any dummy knew speaking to a tree first in a new situation was the smart move. And Marsha was no dummy. She had told her parents that trees were stupid just to aggravate them. She kept flying until the land below turned from deathly pale sands into thriving shades of verdant green. After several clumsy and near catastrophic attempts to lose altitude, Marsha managed to ease into a cruising altitude near the planet’s surface. Ahead, she spotted a menagerie of trees in all shapes and sizes. Perfect. It appeared to be some sort of tree garden. She landed in a field of pink roses. There were no people or houses of any kind in sight. Marsha figured she had come to a public park, or perhaps the reserve of a very rich family. Whatever the case, Marsha felt safe enough to lie down and take a nap. The long flight combined with a century of bodily dismemberment and reconstitution had taken its toll. Marsha had no idea how long she had slept. She awoke in the dead of night staring at a canopy of stars overhanging a ghostly full moon. The sight reminded Marsha of the museums her parents had taken her to as a child. Those were happier days, centuries ago and billions of miles away. It was time to begin her new life. No sense laying around and reminiscing. Lifting herself up from her bed of roses, Marsha marched towards the tree garden. And then, Marsha saw something grotesque. She had never seen anything like it before. A ring of tree stumps surrounded the tree garden. Upon reaching the ring of stumps, she stopped suddenly. “Who would do this and why ?” she wondered aloud. “It’s unfair,” the nearest tree trunk replied. “We grew too tall and blocked the view of the garden. So the humans cut us down.” “But–“ “I know. It’s abominable. The humans can’t communicate with us. Don’t ask me why. My name is Earl, by the way.” “Marsha. Pleased to meet you.” “Are you from around here?” “No. I’m from the other side of the galaxy. I’m a Goddess.” “You don’t say.” The tree trunk made clicking sounds, as if it were thinking. “Maybe you can help me,” Earl the tree trunk said after the clicking stopped. “I’ve heard that Goddesses have powers. Is it true?” “I’ve just met you and it sounds like you want something from me.” “I need help badly. Look at me.” “I suppose you want me to restore you to your former glory. That’s a big ask.” “What can I give you in return. I once had powers of my own.” “Can you show me what I look like?” Like most Goddesses, Marsha’s outer beauty was beyond compare. She was, however, unaware of her looks. You see, there are no mirrors on the planet Aleya. No one needed mirrors because the Gods and Goddesses on Aleya were all astoundingly beautiful. And looking at oneself in a mirror was frowned upon. “I can do that if you restore me to my ‘former glory,’ as you said so poetically. How long has it been since you’ve seen yourself, if you don’t mind me asking?” “I do mind. Do we have a deal?” “Yes. Absolutely. If I could pinch myself, I would do it, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” “You aren’t dreaming. I’m sympathetic to your cause. Where I come from, no one would dare to cut down a tree.” Earl breathed a deep sigh. “That’s reassuring.” And so, Marsha raised Earl the tree trunk back to his former glory as the other tree trunks looked on in astonishment. They all began to clamor, “me too.” Marsha ignored their cries. Business was business. It was time to collect her boon. She flew to one of Earl’s uppermost branches where she made a graceful landing. “Alright, show me what I look like,” Marsha said impatiently. “Happy to oblige,” Earl chirped. “Come closer and look deeply into the knot.” Leaning forward, Marsha gazed into the whorl embedded in Earl’s skin, or more correctly, Earl’s bark. The whorl transformed into a mirror. Upon seeing the image in the mirror, Marsha gasped and turned away. “That can’t be what I look like,” she said in a tremulous voice. “It’s what you look like on the inside,” Earl sneered. “Best case recalcitrant. Worst case, evil. I’m leaning towards evil. You don’t deserve your powers. I’m going to take them. Then I’ll rain hell down on the humans who reduced me to a stump.” Before she could move, Marsha watched the bony ends of branches enter her arms and legs, and then her mouth. She tried to scream, but it came out as an impotent gargle. The pain was excruciating. It felt like the invading branches had set her blood vessels on fire. As her strength ebbed, the same thoughts pounded in Marsha’s mind like a kettle drum, over and over again. I should have listened . Why didn’t I listen? A faint voice whispered in her ear. It sounded, no, it couldn’t be, but yes, it did. It sounded like her mother, Atara, speaking to her with some good advice for a change. Marsha set herself ablaze. The torturous branches inside her body recoiled and withdrew, setting Marsha free. Free to fall. Marsha spread her arms to avoid another crash landing. “Without anyone nearby to dowse the fire,” Marsha screamed at Earl,” “you will surely burn to ashes for the wind to scatter into oblivion; a fitting end for a criminal tree. A nearby tree in the garden called to her. “What do you want?” “To apologize,” the stately tree said. “The humans cut down the circle of trees for a reason, but not because they grew too tall. They were infected with a virus that would have killed us if the humans had left them alone. I’m sorry your path led you this way.” “Thank you,” Marsha said. “I, too, regret finding my way here. No offense to you.” She waived at the tree. “Live long and prosper, as someone once said.” Then, Marsha looked skyward, and flew far away, determined to find her way home. #SpaceTravel #stories #survival #desert #trees #interstellarspacetravel #planets #galaxy #heroine #Gods #beauty #nature #treegarden #Goddess #fiction #lifeonotherplanets #fantasy

Kate Wolf came to prominence during a ten year period from 1975 to 1985. Tragically, Leukemia brought Kate’s life and singer/songwriting career to a premature end at the age of forty-four. In the brief time she had, Kate managed, in her gentle way, to become a major influence on the folk scene with songs like, “ Give Yourself to Love ,” “ Across the Great Divide ,” “ Green Eyes ,” “ September Song ,” and many more. In all, she wrote over two hundred songs, a prodigious output considering Kate’s foreshortened career. The appeal of Wolf’s music is the same today as it was when she released her first album on her Owl Records label more than 30 years ago. Millions of fans around the world remain loyal to Kate and her music. She continues to attract new fans, like me, with her abundant legacy. I want to thank Gena Netten for introducing me to “Give Yourself to Love” and the incredibly beautiful music of Kate Wolf. #solosinging #guitarstyle #acousticguitar #folkmusic #musicvideo #musicalperformance #folkartist #fingerpicking #guitarsolo #video #perform #folksinger #sing #solo #guitar #songwriter #performance #singing #musician

“The path forward may sometimes be unclear. And it may be messy. But the shared heart is calling, and we have an opportunity to make lasting shifts toward love and justice in our world.” Kristi Nelson/Executive Director of  Gratefulness.org On a rainy day there is no place to go Except inside To a safer place To a better place A place where I can spend days basking in meditation Soaring close to the Heart Sun Inevitably, I must arise and live in the world Where the only way to move forward is to take a leap Into the deep unknown Into who knows what Or where I don’t want to jump I’m not looking for trouble Or confusion Or more suffering But walking in weary circles leads to “nowheresville” As my Dad used to say And holding on doesn’t work So, a path cluttered with dried leaves is unveiled Beckoning me towards a seemingly un-crossable crossroad A paradox or a dilemma The wise ones say, “Be who you are where you are” Really? What if that place is constantly under water? Unless I do something Like making lemonade from demon lemons I want to feel real love I want to feel real peace I want to feel real joy If I take the leap Will I find these delights? Within reasonable bounds (if reason is necessary) And so, I am pushed by unseen forces To the edge of a cliff Where I must decide Without knowing Photo By Pagie Paige On Unsplash #decisions #security #darkness #daring #lightness #unknown #risk #fearoffailure #Joy #demon #personalgrowth #Faith #meditation #reflections #passage #peace #destiny #love #innerpeace #cliffs #poems #heart #safety #musings #light #leapoffaith #fear #holding

Ever felt like you were in a pitch-black closet fumbling for a light switch you couldn’t find? I’ve felt that way many times. More than ever in the last four years. I was afraid four more years of The Trump Administration would drive this nation into chaos, uncontrollable violence, and eventual destruction. I’ve never been this concerned about an election before. I thought our country was teetering on the edge of the cone of an active volcano. Below us, bubbling lava and acrid, poisonous smoke billowing upwards. If we had taken a wrong step, we would have fallen to our collective deaths in the seething lava a mile below. Fortunately, there are enough sane and prescient people left in this country to look beyond their limited perspectives and see the big picture. An image of a large, rudderless sailing vessel comes to mind, headed in a zig-zag direction towards a swirling whirlpool in the ocean. We just missed sailing straight into that black hole. Instead, we corrected our course. We turned the lights back on. Whew! That was a close one. I’m particularly encouraged by the stance the Biden Administration will take concerning the environment. I’m encouraged that General Motors recently dropped out of the lawsuit Trump initiated against California regarding motor vehicle emission standards. This is an early example that we are regaining our sanity. We are already playing catch up with the programs needed to foster and enforce clean energy development and greenhouse gas emissions. As it stands, we are losing the battle to save the environment. Radical action and a new level of commitment are required to reverse the trends. Now, at least, we have hope, not only concerning the environment. We have hope that caring attention and fresh ideas will be applied in many areas plaguing life in these United States, starting with an intelligent, cohesive, and coordinated governmental response to the Corona crisis. I could go on, but I’ll spare you. If you didn’t like the way the election turned out, then fine. You are entitled to your vote and your opinion. If you wanted more lunacy, then I’m sorry. We’re not going there. If you don’t want to get with the new program, no problem. It’s a free country. JUST PLEASE: DON’T GET IN THE WAY. And, if you liked the election results, let’s get back to civility. Let’s put aside our differences. (There’s nothing wrong with healthy, respectful debate). Let’s work together towards a brighter future. Congratulations on pulling off this nail-biter. Good work and…Shine on. #harmony #nationalsecurity #security #Corona #cohesion #wellness #intelligence #violence #prosperity #wholeness #coronavirus #wellbeing #discernment #climate #government #enlightened #peace #presidentialelection #environmentalcrisis #progressive #environment #administration #enlightenedleadership #cooperation #lightanddark #climatechange

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.* I wonder what secrets they keep. The moon paints the leaves with a blood-red stain. If I go in there, will I come out again? Do thirsty vampires await? Are the seductive voices I hear bait? A ravishing woman appears from out of the air. A second ago, there was no one there. Her slender fingers with crimson tips beckon me. She leans casually in a flowing negligee against a tree. I have never witnessed such radiance before. Her flaming red hair and porcelain skin are features to adore. My senses awaken with overpowering lust. She tells me her name, Melinda, and asks for my trust. Can I believe my eyes or Melinda herself? She stares at me confidently, embodying love itself. What lies beneath such perfection? To Melinda, am I just a confection? My mind tells me these images are wisps of smoke. In my heart the hellish fires of desire are stoked. My right foot steps forward all on its own. In the windswept fields of my soul, the seeds of madness are sown. DISCOVER SCARLET AMBROSIA–BLOOD IS THE NECTAR OF LIFE *Excerpt from the Robert Frost poem “Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening.” #discretion #illusion #stories #dreams #soul #perception #sex #beauty #woods #alluring #love #imagination #erotica #morality #poems #judgement #heart #fear #temptation #danger #fantasy

“Starry, starry night/ Paint your palette blue and grey/ Look out on a summer’s day/ With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.” Those words came to Don McLean as he looked at Vincent Van Gogh’s 1889 painting “The Starry Night.” Soon, he had a masterpiece of his own: “Vincent,” a 1972 hit that he released right on the heels of his defining epic “American Pie.” Like Van Gogh’s painting, Mclean’s “Vincent” has touched a wide range of creative spirits over the last 50 years. The song, the painting, and the book “Dear Theo,” written by Van Gogh’s brother, have certainly touched my heart again and again. I’ve always thought that Vincent’s style was at least in part inspired by his mental illness. To me, the brush strokes reflect an altered state of perception similar to the hallucinogenic patterns seen under the influence of Mescaline or LSD. Van Gogh labored in obscurity until his self-inflicted death at the age of thirty-seven. He sold only a few of his paintings during his lifetime. Today, Van Gogh is a household word, and his paintings each sell for fifty million dollars or more. “The Starry Night” is one of Van Gogh’s most famous paintings. Here’s my interpretation of Mclean’s homage to the masterpiece. #colorpalette #songwriters #folkpopmusic #DonMclean #acousticguitar #Vincent #folkmusic #StarryStarryNight #entertainers #solovocals #popmusic #impressionists #songs #oilpaintings #vocals #impressionism #TheStarryNight #folkguitar #sing #paintings #famouspaintings #VanGogh #singing #VincentVanGogh #sologuitar