“Who am I? Nobody knows but me Who am I? Nobody else can see.” –Look at me, John Lennon It’s hard for me to look at most popular music the same way these days knowing that Romantic Love is a mind program and most only wade into the shallowest part of this love, because of… Read More Are you a mercenary soul?
To be born again In another world In another world In another time Got a home on high Ain’t nothing but a stranger in this world I’m nothing but a stranger in this world I got a home on high In another land So far away So far away Way up in the heaven Way… Read More Divine Feminine Rising
And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I cry the tears of a million starving orphans, the tears of the sunken slave ship, and the the burned, the tortured, the murdered, the unloved, the cast off, the executed, the outcasts and the lepers whose souls’ wither away in isolation, as the crashing waves of… Read More I was born with a broken heart
The courage it takes to heal (forgive, surrender, allow, give it up to Gaia), is infinitely more courageous than the courage it takes to kill, to fight, because it requires you to acknowledge your powerlessness. It requires faith to allow the creator and the higher order of earth, to take over and intervene. Even though… Read More Holy rage
I have this idea fishing that I do each night when I go to sleep and I seem to have a huge catch of fish (ideas) but somehow when the net comes up ( I wake up) , most of the fish slip through the net. How many of us are in foxhole partnerships? We… Read More Got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul
Who knew? That the path to healing was through unconditional radical self -forgiveness and love, even when I act like a pariah, goon, moron, idiot and people scoff at me. More love, more love, more forgiveness for my soul, keep it flowing, keep sending it down, mother spirit, we got some wounds that need love… Read More Self (soul) love
Does it taste like a cheeseburger? Meat, cheese, bun and grease, a milkshake, fries at a truck stop in Kansas en route across the heartland? Is it crunchy like a handful of nuts? Is it light and graceful like a ballerina dancer, swift yet impactless? Or like cold, carbonated liquid? Is it the sensory shock… Read More What does freedom taste like?