Words used in different form and measure tell the story of our lives. Such stories conjunct other stories creating a collective story, word by word. When perfected, and connected, they sound of music playing in perfect harmony. They dance to the rhythm of meter and time on the road to meaning and understanding.
*adapted into Echoes In The Dark /
Having Parkinson’s disease comes with its share of pain, from my right hand that shakes too much to my feet being sore from walking with my toes curling under. But some things are just a pain in the mental ass.
Parkinson’s is caused by the loss of dopamine which controls movement. I take the drug Pramipexole, a dopamine agonist that does not make dopamine but fools the brain into thinking it is dopamine. I also take levodopa which makes dopamine. Since my diagnosis, I have gone to see a neurologist every three months or so. One of the questions I’m routinely asked is; do I gamble, drink or shop excessively? It seems that both of the drugs I take have side effects of which impulsive and compulsive behavior is an issue. Continue reading Part 10- P is for Parkinson’s or Pain in the ….
“Turn and face the strange Ch-ch-changes,” -David Bowie
You think you know why you’re leaving, but maybe the real reason is not the same as what you think is causing you to leave. You haven’t a clue in your linear world as your reasoning is temporal in thinking but the cause is spatial. Its’ a secret echoing through the heavens and it shows itself in every form in the tangible realm… the red-tailed hawk you saw sitting calmly on the branches of a Laurel oak… the Celtic gateway. The doe and her fawn by the river’s edge prevailed upon you a longing you couldn’t comprehend, just as Rama’s consort Sita longs for a mythical golden deer. The blue heron and his mate you suddenly noticed flying over the icy waters of Lake Lynn; a liminal bird of crossing thresholds. Each is whispering your secret, a secret known to all except you. Continue reading Changes One Nimbus
“Oz never did give nothing to the tin man that he didn’t already have,” -Dewey Bunnell
And it came to pass on this day, that the wild man who created such havoc casting out demon shadows he saw in others were in reality his demons to do away with. And the inquisitive boy yearning for knowledge at every waking moment, never getting enough, are one and the same for they are you and they are me, forced into enchantment and awareness, abiding in a lonely house off to the left-hand way of ‘being’ by the river of contemplation’s. And the boy dwelling inside the wild man approaches the threshold after suffering death and inhalation of ego’s to discover compassion… the jeweled still point, lying at the heart of the soul. And it is there you will find me sitting on the porch in quiet mindful meditation.