An Imaginary Western

“While others watched  Roy Rodgers, I wanted to be like Crazy Horse, he was always more interesting to me.” -JC

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 stone only so the multitudes can see and understand his madness. Or is it our madness we must come to terms with? Continue reading An Imaginary Western

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The Starry, Starry Night, Van Gogh & Parkinsons.

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.

Bliss

blissFind 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

The Left Hand Way

“The right-hand path is living in the context of the mask of one’s village. The left-hand way is of the individual quest. So the mask of the individual’s own life pulls against the mask held up by society”.
-Joseph Campbell

“As we drive toward the apex of a six-lane span over the St.Johns river, the wind picks up in gust and the bridge suddenly divides. One turn is a slight turn to the right. The other turn is to the left, a very sharp turn through the yellow cables, as yellow as the morning sun.
-JC

Such is life, two sides of an interchangeable cultural coin as symbols and meaning constantly trade places. What’s in vogue today is out tomorrow as each turns to the other for its’ title. This is a dance and society is leading the orchestra to a beat that holds everyone under its pulsating rhythm of fear. So the music doesn’t change as though someone requests the same song in repetitious frustration because he can’t hear the real song in his soul.

When the flip of a coin is realized and understood one is left somewhere off to the side of the road, disheveled and seeking. The empyrean of pure fire and light at the farthest boundaries of the heavenly sphere await your question; for the gods reveal themselves only when summoned, waiting for you to turn the key and open the inner door to a mythic adventure where demons, dragons, and fairies encountered in the regions of the soul. This is the path beyond the border of societies misinterpretations, the inner life or mythically speaking “the left-hand way.

Our newfound wisdom comes from the inner vision the mystics speak of. It is a lonely path in so far as the mask one longs for from the past. But loneliness soon turns to solitude in this darkness of the soul’s flight and in our emptying out we become filled with the spirit. This is Perceval quest and was only satisfied when he went against the social sanction of not asking questions, as expected of a Knight of the Roundtable and asks the Fisher King a left-handed question, “what ails you, my king”.

Society is a disguise for something deeper that can’t be held overtly for all to see. For many are indifferent and without the subsistence to keep from falling asunder. The older man has discerning eyes and by the light of a full moon whose light is derived from the sun ask the hard questions from which descends the wisdom to see life’s exceptions, discarding all that we cleave to that subsequently blinds us to who we really are. Heaven and earth, left hand in right hand will reveal their bounty as society opens to serve the individual quest. The goal must be a noble undertaking, a pursuit exalted before the heavens to begin at the point where it arcs across the earth. Many cultural layers, many situations, many lessons uncovered and either embrace or abandoned as we ascertain the left side of the self.

©jc2016-9

Photo source: Pixabay

If 6 were 3, I’d like to be…

If 6 were 3, I’d like to be all the things that you will see, if 6 were 3. Continue reading If 6 were 3, I’d like to be…

In The Heart Of The Night

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
and head.

©jc2017-9

*Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Onward To the Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 4

coat-42063_1280“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it up carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket of the coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket– safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable.  –C.S. Lewis (from The Four Loves) Continue reading Onward To the Palace of Wisdom- Love, Pt. 4

On The Shoulders of Giants… look around!

 

This post is part of a series of guest post authored by myself and other bloggers, published to my friend Monica’s blog site,‘look around!’Do yourself a favor and check out her blog at: https://lookaround99.wordpress.com and my post On The Shoulders of Giants at:https://lookaround99.wordpress.com/2016/08/29/on-the-shoulders-of-giants/-look around!.

G4WGCL1I81In time I also heard a singular voice whisper to me as though it were an echo of words spoken long ago that keeps going and will forever sound through the epochs of time as long as love and compassion inhabit this Earth… “There are many ways to touch and kiss the sky!” -JC

Continue reading On The Shoulders of Giants… look around!