We began our romance deep within the confines of a world we conjured from the depths of our harmonious souls; a land of green pastures, thick forest; days of bright sunlight; afternoons of gentle rains and at nightfall, a celestial array whose radiance was only diminished by the luminosity emanating from my beloved. Call it Eden, Shangri-La, or Valhalla; we were its only inhabitants and the sole owners of all we felt for each other. The moat around our paradise was deep with swift currents, the bridge drawn and tied up, and no one dared to trespass who might take it away, for we were otherworldly and human prowess ceased to have any power here. Continue reading Arianrhod
“Go on and break you crazy heart” -Hank Williams
And it’s another battle of the Heart versus the Head… Continue reading There Was To Be A Wedding
It’s said that the Angels on high are joyously whenever someone turns their back on the everyday life. That‘s the journey, as Van Morrison sang, “From the dark end of the street to the bright side of the road”. The signs along this path are the inkling of a universe wanting to speak to us. Every turn is a lesson, the winking of an eye, which is contemplated only by those who stay young at heart. Continue reading Natures Truth
Science looks to find the connection between Parkinson’s and Creativity
If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced. -Vincent Van Gogh Continue reading The Starry, Starry Night, Van Gogh & Parkinsons.
“Change your vibration, change your life” -The Buddha Continue reading In City Dreams
Find something, anything, which is so encompassing that in a given block of time it enthralls you to get lost together in unconsciousness. Such things are beyond space and time, it is bliss and one only questions the indignities of why when not doing this transcendent work. Continue reading Bliss
A friend of mine called one day and stated in a matter of fact tone, “you have to read this book; it will change your life”. The book was ‘The Power of Myth, by someone named Joseph Campbell. I was just divorced and trying to find my way in a strange new world after 13 years of marriage, a world in which I felt as one of the lost boys in Peter Pan. I was ready for something of substance but had doubts as to my friends implied assertion that this one book would open a new world of meaning to me. I was familiar with the works of Thomas Moore and M. Scott Peak so I wasn’t completely unacquainted with the idea of mythology as a psychological tool. But little did I know I was about to submerge into uncharted waters, pushing me intrinsically through the door into the abyss. Continue reading Hey Joe
In the city of my birth,
On the third floor of Beckham’s Book Shop,
Surrounded by stacks of books I can only dream of reading every title,
Falling asleep on this worn out couch,
The musty smell making me dizzy.
They call it ‘the city that time forgot’ and continues to forget as we saw with Katrina,
Or the ‘crescent city’ for the bend in the river which Bienville saw as strategic,
Many nights I walked that same bend along the railroad tracks by the river’s edge,
Drinking hot beer procured from the abandoned Jax Brewery,
Oblivious to the rich history I was born into.
Wandering these streets of the French Quarters,
Past the painters, fortune tellers and street musicians trying to make a dollar,
I find myself in St. Louis Cathedral staring at the stained glass,
The pipe organ playing Bach while someone is blowing a horn in Pirates Alley,
Both melding into a complexed whole, as candles from the altar, burn our sins away.
So many nights strolling down Bourbon Street in a haze,
How many ghosts have crossed my path this night,
Dripping in the humid air of summer is like breathing thru syrup,
Or the damp cold of winter cutting you to the bone.
Growing up we’d take the Algiers Ferry across the river to the West Bank,
When night falls on a full moon you can see the city’s horizon shimmering on the water,
I think we only leave home so we can love it all the more.
It is then I understand this longing I feel for my city by the river,
You never really get over it, just strike an uneven peace between the heart
*Photo courtesy of Pixabay
“If you get the inside right, the outside will fall into place.”
When I wrote ‘Private Tremors of the Frozen Man’, I introduced a litany of symptoms prevalent to Parkinson’s disease that most people didn’t know or realized were just as prominent as a tremor in the hand. As time goes on, I discover new symptoms, some I experience and other I may or may not ever play host to. All in all, it’s an education for me and a vicarious one for you, the reader. As I’ve often said, when I was diagnosed back in October of 2012, I didn’t know anything about Parkinson’s except for the handshakes. Now I can see someone on the street and pretty much can tell if they have Parkinson’s or not. Continue reading The Frozen Man- Go to the Mirror