Prayer is not about seeking an unknowable God, but about reaching beyond our selves, our indentifications, with all our emotion, to strike a chord that resounds even when we are gone.
~*~
Senses are like colors, we start with 5 senses or primary colors, and by blending them, harmonizing them, we can discover new ones.
~*~
How one we are, when first we reach out to the stirring tides behind closed eyes.
~*~
God is the first domino to fall.
~*~
When I was 15 I left home. I pretended I was suicidal so I could get the fuck out of there. The environment to me at home was like a prison, and I was doing everything to escape. I was doing cocaine in high school, partying with friends late night after work, staying up all night painting or writing music, dropping acid, and behaving generally antisocial. I did coke at school, and pulled away from everyone. It got to the point that I was basically removed from the home and put on a 5150 for observation , then into a halfway house, then to a locked ward for troubled youth where I picked up the guitar and started to find actual creative ways to express my feelings. I wrote prolifically, made extraordinary friends, And even made a movie. I would sing for everyone, I took requests, it was all Guns n Roses Patience and More than Words by Extreme, U2, Jon Lennon and Rush for awhile there, drinking wine with Lee Denton in the park at midnight when I got out. I couldn't be helped because I didn't want to be helped, I wanted to break on through, to really create something new, and honest, to find my voice, to create a new color or a new way of communicating, of being.
Then I met Mike Seeba who taught me another way, a healthy way, of appreciating the little things, and realizing I had something within me that was good without being self destructive. He showed me things like how to read myself with practice, perception as an art form, music as a connection, and not a dislocation. Buddhism, breath and a living path.
Today I take those dichotomies, the esoteric and the simplicity, the nostalgia and the history, to strike balance in the heart of me. I was the piglet to his Winnie the pooh, finding my nuanced and unique way of seeing things, and molding it is fashion and expressing it with independence and certitude.
Time bakes a cake of of us all from the ingredients we've chosen. The taste of memory is made from the choices we ourselves have made. Accountable in the paths we've paved. And ever watching for inspiration's reflection on the horizon.
Then I met Mike Seeba who taught me another way, a healthy way, of appreciating the little things, and realizing I had something within me that was good without being self destructive. He showed me things like how to read myself with practice, perception as an art form, music as a connection, and not a dislocation. Buddhism, breath and a living path.
Today I take those dichotomies, the esoteric and the simplicity, the nostalgia and the history, to strike balance in the heart of me. I was the piglet to his Winnie the pooh, finding my nuanced and unique way of seeing things, and molding it is fashion and expressing it with independence and certitude.
Time bakes a cake of of us all from the ingredients we've chosen. The taste of memory is made from the choices we ourselves have made. Accountable in the paths we've paved. And ever watching for inspiration's reflection on the horizon.
~*~
