And at the end of the day When the oceans kiss the sky And the sky turning the deepest blue Where the vast array of stars in the night sky Give sight to the moon holding ancient secrets The meeting of an endless ocean to an endless horizon. It is here that one can embrace the vastness of the universe. And it is here I shall stay... jc
Oh blue ocean seize the day For the sea will survive when all else fades away And with our courage, we’ll rise again In the promise of a new day For the sea is where we hail from And where we long to be And to henceforth, we shall return.
So blue ocean lead the way And show us what mystery you hath today For when the ocean swells with surface waves I will see your name as the north wind lays claim Tranquil in your deepest blues Born from the sea.
And when the winds seek to divide As Poseidon’s trident stirs his great oceans The gust swells into walls of blue But I ask, am I not the same as you, For the sea flows through my veins too So great ocean I swallow my pride For we need each other to survive
I sit here in the middle of an ocean, Atlantic it is You are in the very air that I breathe Your winds purify the breath and energy I need
A blue ocean is in the mystics eye at ocean’s end Lead me to a single breath of the wind on the water.
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”
I awoke from an old dream last evening as the sun kissed the sky and rain came pouring in across the room. I am captured in time, of no major importance save that of time itself formed at the beginning of time save that of the mystic sea from whence we came. Continue reading “Across the Mystic Sea”
There are moments in time when we try to reassemble life’s rich pageant; assigning the pieces as neatly and securely as we can into a box of our own subjective thinking; a box that hasn’t any room for fresh interpretation. The analysis is so in sync with the cerebral brain that we fail to sit back and enjoy the epiphanies that are present especially when the pieces of this puzzle seem not to fit as we think they should…if our narrative comes together, we call it a miracle, if not we’re disgruntled. We tend not to appreciate that in the perforations of this chaos there are considerations waiting for our attention. It is only when we trip into overload from this temporal way of thinking, thus spilling forth into the mysteries, do we expand our thoughts into the universe of a higher understanding. It is then, I come to realize that what I don’t know is more than I thought I knew and I’ll never know it all. Thus, I stand blessed and open to all there is on the road of perception raining down in the pale moonlight. This is mindfulness at its best, waiting to hand you something you didn’t have an inkling you were in need of.
For some time now I’ve been employed in the process of writing a book on my life with Parkinson’s disease. In this process, my mind has discovered many forgotten incidences in this struggle, so much so that I felt my old blog post on the subject seem severely lacking. Also, I’m probably a better writer than I was back then. So I’ve decided to post excerpts from the book to bring my narrative up to date. These will appear once a week or so as my other writing also continue.Thank you- JC Continue reading “Tales of the Frozen Man… PD and Me”
In reality, the house was rather small. But it’s enormous in accordance with the memories of my youth as it was the first house I actually remember calling home. Things always seem bigger and grander when the past is taken in by reminiscence under the disguise of myth.Continue reading “Home”
“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all,” -Richard Wright
In an old damp cave or a treasure chest under the sea, scattered amongst pages, worn out pencils and to-do list, I’ve collected fragments of writing without a home, with no prospects in sight. These words are to the point and do not own any lavish pretenses of grandeur. They simply speak their truth as directly as possible, such as the truth a child will convey out of sheer innocence.Continue reading “Echo’s In The Dark- Words”
Just a short distance and I am amongst the trees, I perceive the shadow of Thoreau and John Muir, as I enter the realm of Gawain and the Green Man, While the leaves from winters passed announce my arrival, amidst the lower brush and decaying branches.
To be wild is not to be crazy or psychotic. True wildness is a love of nature, a delight in silence, a voice free to say spontaneous things, and an exuberant curiosity in the face of the unknown. -Robert Bly
It came to pass on this day, that the wild man who created such havoc casting out demon shadows he saw in others and himself; and the inquisitive boy yearning for knowledge at every waking moment, never getting enough, are one and the same for they are you and me, forced into enchantment and awareness, abiding in a lonely house off to the left-hand way of ‘being’ by the river of contemplation.Continue reading “Pilgrim”