Important thing for the week to go back home is that
Impossible dreams that eat at the moments, one by one. in a cold blanket of fear and doubt… false initiatives that fade like the setting sun. I could be somebody if I could only wake up.
But the Phonix must rise again for another round! And now, the time has come; realization has its moment. For you discover that the key to your prison door was with you all along… now live, breathe and be in each moment no matter where they happen to fall. Shout yes skin your silence with a steady desire to constantly believe in the better nature of all sentient beings.
We are infinity and we chose not the wrong path, just one that’s meant to give direction. Like pieces to a puzzle on a dining room table… you can’t resist, pick up a piece and place it as we follow the moon to get to the sun.
*copyright 2020 jc *photo by pixapen*founded by jc 2014
What should one do… stand-still in the rain, umbrella open, covering every inch of your body from the raindrops falling asunder like water in a perpetual storm, never-ending, no never-ending. Or maybe one should throw the umbrella aside and splash head-on into the blissful waters shouting hallelujah, ” I told you so, I can defeat the rain”.
We find ourselves wanting to be braver than Helios and defiantly trying to drive our trusted steeds into the darkest of night defying the sun god his nightly victory over space and time. What one must do and hasn’t much choice is to defeat the dragons nine. I have Parkinson’s disease and on any given day I can either walk under the safety of an umbrella or splash my way thru the rain, mud flying all over me.
Almost out of a dream I witnessed some time ago that if one goes steadfast into the direction of there dreams things happen as if out of a magic hat, the universe overrides the objects that are not needed and in other ways summons forth objects that are necessary. Everything we thought was so obvious for so long is finally so obvious.
Heading downriver toward New Orleans on Christmas eve you can hear the bells from St.Louis Cathedral and the angelic voices of the choir singing traditional Christmas hymns. If you listen even closer, the sounds of horns playing out from Bourbon St… traditional jazz from Preservation Hall. These different sounds of syncopation… horns, bells, and singing in a blended rhythmic exchange of musical styles can only make the heart overflow with love on this magical night. But a peculiar thing happens on this night according to the National Weather Service that calls out for our attention. Every Christmas Eve winds out of the east rush from the Pontchartrain headed west toward a crescent in the river at the French Quarters… downtown New Orleans. All of this energy is pushing onward to the mouth of the river. Witnesses say you can feel the winds lift you up as though they were coming to take you away. Legend has it that Papa Noel, after his visit to the bonfires of the river parishes, leaves New Orleans from this very crescent in the river with these prevailing winds surrounding his sleigh guiding it downriver to the Gulf of Mexico and all points south. And yes the sound of someone in a loud voice or is it the wind against the currents, either way, ” Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
Oh bright star in a northern sea
As I wipe away the tears that once held me
I think that maybe what I see
From that bright star in front of me
In that land by a northern sea
Was never intended to be a star at all
Oh what could it be
In that land by a northern sea
Is it the twin star Sirius trying to fool me
For the brightest star, I’ve ever seen in a northern sea is Polaris
For if not what could it be
In that land by a northern sea.
*copyright-jc-image by pixabay-2019-9
“When the dream came I held my breath with my eyes closed. I went insane like a smoke ring day when the winds blow.” -Buffalo Springfield
Take me away to the Black Hills, to a single mountain in the Dakotas where Crazy Horse is imprisoned in the rock. Let me gaze at his unbroken spirit on high… captured in granite only so the multitudes can see and understand his madness. Or is it our madness we must come to terms with?
Take me to the innocence of my youth, through endless days of summer as though I were disappearing in the deserted streets, through sugar cane fields and pastures beyond the old churchyard as we rode each night at the witching hour thru houses for the holy deserted by time and sorrow. We walked for miles upon miles through these hallowed grounds and never grew tired. We will lease forget these days of youth, joy, and laughter.
Keep a piece of my heart and save the rest for the crows as they will remember me long after these days of innocence have run out and are gone.
Image by Pixabay…Copyright 2019-09