Fascination

The following post was transcribed from a musical jam session I had with my friend Dallas and several of his friends from popular bands such as The Morning After Girls, and The Dandy Warhols. Of course, Dallas was kind enough not to tell me who they were at the time because it would have made me even more nervous about singing in front of people than I already was. I was not told ahead of time that I would be singing at all, so I had to pull lyrics from my head as the music in the room inspired me. I was rather shy, so many of the vocals were difficult for me to interpret from the MP3's Dallas made me. In such cases, I tried to meditate on what was on my mind that night, and in many cases, I invented new lyrics where the original words were indistinguishable due to my lack of projection and annunciation. The session took place shortly after my return from Ecuador in April of 2006. I had been working night and day to edit footage from the jungle into something presentable for a film festival I was presenting at. I hadn't slept more than a couple hours a night for three weeks, and in my delirious state of being I just went into a meditation and let words flow from my self unfiltered by concsious thought. Anyway, here is what I came up with.



fascination
I feel I'm under pressure
I've been trying to save the earth
I've been dying for rebirth

fascination
I feel I'm under a deep sensation
when you told me life is hard
I want to love you but my heart is scarred

fascination
feel my heart is under sedation
can't seem to find the truth
by focusing on the past

fascination
this is such a crazy sensation
I'm feeling scared and a little frozen
then I see it's the path I've chosen

fascination
this is such a crazy location
I want to flee to a civilization
that's never been cause it never was

someone's putting their eyes on me
I turn myself around so I can see
all the bounties that have been lost
'cause the companies ignore the cost
doing for business what business takes
quite a path for a president

falling into a web of extremists
and wealthy white men
tranquility is my gift
this is all that I have within me
this is all that I have within me
this is everything

tranquility is my gift
passion is the voice that guides me
tranquility is my gift
passion is the force that's within me

fascination
this is such a crazy sensation
I'm obsessed with a place so far away

got my head so deep in the jungle
got my mind wrapped around a lie that lives
got my head so deep in the jungle
got my mind on a truth that has to give

fascination
feel like I've been under sedation
and now I see that I have begun it
I thought I was lost but now I've found it

hey you, where you going?
hey you, what time have you found?
feel vibrations under your feet now
dig your roots into solid ground

hold it up to the light to see through it
there are places I'd rather be
expect the night to consume all my worries
asking truth to come permeate me

I'm not so lost that I would follow you
couldn't find the innocence I had
wishing I could hold onto something
there's nothing left of what wasn't meant to be had.

Sentimentality

On sunday Roy and I got all my things from my storage unit in Seattle and moved into our new house in Ellensburg. At first we put all the boxes (most of which haven't been unpacked for the last five moves or so) into our spare bedroom to be dealt with at a leisurely pace. However, last night Roy decided that we should bring them all into the living room to force us to unpack, sort, put away and/or get rid of all the crap I've been carrying around with me for years. Watching him tackle my boxes with his perfectly logical sorting method makes me realize why I have never been able to conquer the stacks myself. You see, when I go through these boxes, it's like being flung head first in to a pile of memories. I can tell by the contents which move a particular box was packed during. Old letters and momentos jostle me back and forth between different stages of my life. Photographs of old lovers make me think of patterns that I can't be certain I am not still repeating. I relive all the beutiful moments... the disappointments... the heartaches, and the moments of inspiration. At 28 it feels as if I have lived a thousand life times. As I sort and discharge posessions, I consider what my family and friends might learn about me from what I kept if I were to die tomorrow. Then I think that maybe by sorting through everything, I will also be forced to sort through the longings and the regrets to unburden my psyche. I am greatful for Roy's approach. Perhaps I will be able at last to reconcile some of the contradictory aspects of my personality and find a balance in my relationships and my life.

life after death cont.

I'm feeling rather cozy in my velour pants and Roy's oversized sweatshirt as I sit in the room we are currently sharing and spend quality time with the six dogs who are coming in and out for little doses of affection. I am the only human in the house at the moment, and the solitude and stillness is appreciated. After making a visit to the hospital the other night, It's been determined that I have an advanced bladder infection. It explains what I thought were several isolated incidences of random illness. Now I have two days off, and I am taking advantage of the opportunity to rest and heal. Still, there is so much that I need to be doing, and my illness and fatigue are only getting in the way. It seems there is always something pressing and deadlines hanging over my head. It certainly doesn't make it any easier that I have to pee every ten minutes.

Last night I managed to drag myself out of the house to go to a party at my friend Magenta's house. Magenta is one of the most fantastic people I have come across in Roslyn, or anywhere. We met one night at the brick after I first came into town, and before my second trip to Ecuador. I had been out with my friend Brent earlier, and time had distorted, as it's known to do here. When he dropped me off at my house, I was sure it was nearly 2am. It felt like the end of the night, and I was appropriately ready for bed. However when I got home and discovered it was only 9:30 at night, I suddenly got a second wind and walked into town. When I got there, the place was relatively empty, as if I hadn't been the only one to experience the time shift.

Brent walks in and is surprised to see me there. "I thought you were going to bed?" I strike up a conversation while I'm ordering a drink, then, abruptly pause it to listen to the woman singing across the bar. She's singing Summer Time, the tune my Dad whistled everywhere he went. It's always been one of my favorites. In fact I sang it for my final exam in a voice class I took in college. She sings it perfectly, and I have to introduce myself. For the rest of the night, Magenta and I sang together. We left the bar and went to my house to sing for each other, read lyrics and listen to music. Then I left for Ecuador and didn't see her again for nearly a month.

My time in Roslyn has been short, but significant. Tomorrow after work I will drive to Ellensburg to get the keys for our new house. We'll have to go to Seattle this weekend and clear out my storage shed. We had to sell my truck to get the money for first/last and deposit, so we're not sure where we're going to get the money for gas to get there, or to rent a U-haul. My mom sent us a check to help…. I just hope it gets here by Saturday.

Now that we have managed to find a house that we can reasonable expect to afford, with a fenced yard for our pack I am starting to look forward to the changes that are rapidly approaching. Of course the move itself will be dreadful, and Roy and I will both have to work the following morning. In other words, we're not out of the woods yet, but by Valentines Day we should be all settled in. The radio station in Ellensburg is looking for a new DJ, and I'm hoping that I will be the one. The job would be perfect for me, and I perfect for it. I just realized that I'm almost as horny as I am hungry. I think I'm going to take my food stamps and go to the grocery store, since buying food at a restaurant is simply not an option at the moment. I'll take care of the other business later if Roy is up to it despite his cold.

life after death cont.

With one move down, and another soon to come, I am again reminded of why I had the words "here" and "now" tattooed on my arms. At the time I had just moved in with my then lover Chrisopher Blue. It was January 2005, and it was my forth move since the previous April when I left my fiancé to reclaim my independence. After a five-year relationship with relative stability, I was again flung into the chaos I had once left behind. I often awoke not knowing where I was. I didn't know who was making sounds around me. Was I in the home that my fiancé and I had bought together? Had all of this been a dream? This disorientation gave me great anxiety. I began writing those two words on the inside of my wrists everyday to remind me that no matter where I had gone I was still here, and that there was no use dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. I am here and it is now.

Chrisopher went with me to get the tattoos. We went to our friend Ian who had done all of Chrisophers work. It felt like I was turning a new leaf. I was moving in with the man I loved after we had spent the holidays traveling by car up and down the California coast. He had been so afraid before to admit that he loved me, and now he had asked me to move into his apartment with him. Getting inked, I felt, was a perfect way to devote myself to this time I was living in… this time with him.

Of course that time passed and led to this one. Life with Chrisopher fluctuated regularly between ecstatic and miserable. We brought out the best and the worst of each other until the worst became unbearable. Chrisopher moved to California to live among the red woods, and I ran away to South America twice before settling down in the quiet mountain town of Roslyn.

The tattoos on my arms represent an ideal that I hold logically, but have difficulty obtaining. They function as a reminder…. a reminder that now in the throws of winter I only see in the shower. In fact, as I think about it, my other tattoos are also concepts that I understand and yet cannot accept. The very first one came about on the day after my 18th birthday. The night before I had bought a pack of cigarettes, visited a porn shop, and done almost anything I could think of that had been illegal for me to do before. Then I went to go see Bob Dylan at the Kiva Auditorium and smoked a joint on stage with him while looking down in the crowd at my high school English teacher.

I went with my friend Kevin (aka Kaos) to the Route 66 fine line tattoo parlor because he said he knew the owner and could get me a deal. The artist working that day was an attractive young man whose face lit-up when he saw me. "I know you…. you're that girl that smoked me out last night at the Dylan concert." For twenty dollars he tattooed a black sun with eight distinctive rays on my back. I had chosen this symbol because it represented chaos. Since I moved out of my parent's house at 16, my life had been chaotic. I had studied chaos theory and felt it was time to embrace its force over all things. Still accepting the results of chaos on my life proved difficult. I continued to live it, create it, and despise it.

My second tattoo was a tribute to my dead father. In his life, he had worked many jobs, and was once given the nickname "Rood Dog" by a group of construction men he had worked with at Intel in Rio Rancho New Mexico. The name stuck, and when my father took work over seas, he addressed all his letters to me "to Littlepaw" and signed his name using a paw-print. I had the paw print placed on my right ankle to honor his life, and my connection to him. Despite the tattoo, accepting my fathers death proved to be as if not more difficult that embracing chaos or living in the present moment.

It seems there are so many things my mind can conceive of that I can't seem to actualize in my life. My mind is a factory of thoughts and ideas that are being produced 24 hours a day. When I am awake I stare off into the distance to hear my thoughts. In sleep they surface in bizarre and complicated dreamscapes. It is never quite. There is never peace. I still wake up wondering where I am and which portions of my life have been a dream. There is nothing I can fully accept as fact. There is nothing that is impossible. All that is real is chaos and loss, and I am trapped in its past and afraid for its future.

Sometimes I feel it is my frustrated ambitions that make me crazy. It is the ideas that I never found the energy to pursue that fill my dreams, and the exhaustion that kept me from them that haunts my waking life. Perhaps, in a body that were not as wrecked as mine has become, my busy mind could be satisfied with manic spells of great productivity. However, chronic pain has skewed my bi-polar disorder to favor depression over mania for pure lack of energy. When the mania does surface, it usually results in nothing more than a sleepless night and a rapid pulse. I wonder how I will achieve greatness with all the obstacles I have collected to carry with me. I wonder if it is possible that I will be healthy again in my lifetime.

I am sitting across form the food court in the student union building at Central Washington University. With my own belly full of noodles and sweet and sour chicken, I watch as students choose from the five varieties of grease delivery systems posing as food. Once a week I sit here for approximately two and a half hours while Roy goes to his class on renewable energy. I could stay home if I wanted, but I like to take the opportunity to read, and write, and be alone in public. I prefer to sit upstairs where there are comfy chairs and couches, but this evening I was forced out by the horrible music emanating from the "Campus Crusade for Christ" that is going on in the ball room.

I have to wonder why they chose the word "Crusade" for their event. Are they not aware of how bloody and (pardon the expression) god-awful the crusades were for the victims it claimed? Could they possibly be implying that were it not illegal they would hunt and kill every person on this campus whose way of seeing the world differs from their own? Do they think that Jesus Christ would be honored to have such horrors committed in his name?

I'm currently in the process of applying for graduate school here at CWU. Having graduated from UW in Seattle, I can hide my sense of superiority from everyone but myself. I am months away from beginning school here, and I am already board with the campus and its relatively homogeneous student population. I hope that as a grad student, I will be too busy to be annoyed by this place. I hope that my classmates will be as separate from these loud obnoxious undergrads as I feel right now. I hope that among the truck stops and cow-patties of Ellensburg I will somehow find an intellectual community that will satisfy my yearning for educational stimulation. I grow weary of writing, and decide to return to the novel I am reading: "Skinny Legs and All" by Tom Robbins.

fire.

burning with a fire
there's no where to go but forward
looking through the tunnel
for a light to canter toward
holding on to what is left
'cause there won't be no more
and living is an expense
that I can't even afford

burning with a fire
that has yet to be extinguished
from masses lost to apathy
I try to be distinguished
what is lost when flames go out
is so hard to relinquish
the work that there is left to do
no one will ever finish

burning with a fire
that is raging on inside me
shedding all the masks that they
have painted on to hide me
waiting for the bells to toll
to see who stands beside me
waiting for a sigh to give me hope
and love to guide me

burning with a fire
I can make it if I try
even though some times
I feel so tired I could die
and when exhaustion is enough
to make me shake and cry
I know there is no answer
thus no reason to ask why

Life after death continued....

It is a cold and blustery winter night. Outside the rapid winds blow the foot and a half or so of fresh powdery snowfall into places it normally doesn't fall. The front porch of the house I'm living in is covered in it, and a thin layer of ice is beginning to form on the high traffic areas. In the last days of my nearly four month stretch of unemployment, I have taken to reading the pile of unread novels and non-fictions I had rescued from my storage unit weeks ago. I find myself consuming the stories within their pages like an addict consumes their drug of choice. When I have finished one, I am pleased, and yet unsatisfied and must quickly begin another. The perspectives of the narrators, the characters they describe, and the lessons inherent in their anecdotes swirl around in my mind making it difficult for me to sleep at night. When my night time meds kick in and drown me in drowsiness, the images left behind in my psyche begin to weave themselves into dreams that make me want to sleep late into the afternoon in order to grasp the lesson they are trying to teach me.

Tomorrow I must move out of the vacation home I have been occupying to allow the owners their vacations. Because of my circumstances, I will move in with Roy and his room mate John (also known as "Wagon"). John is a kind animal loving individual, as he would have to be to be so calm about the chaos that is rapidly approaching his domicile. I myself have two dogs. Lili is a pudgy blonde mix that at the very least involves Beagle and Shar Pei. She is the smallest, but also the oldest at approximately 6 years. Before she was rescued from the pound in Austin Texas by Chrisopher, (the heart-breaker), she had given birth to several litters of puppies. The tattoo placed between her large pink utters is to serve as a warning to any future shelter that she has indeed been spayed. Because she got it at the pound, I affectionately refer to it as her "prison tat." Most of her nick-names (and she has many) are food products like "corn-dog" "sausage" "snausage" and "pancake."
Lili's sister Guinta is not any older than 2, and is a mix between a Rottwieler and a German Shepard. Her name comes from my time in the jungle of Ecuador, and is the native Huaorani word for Dog. So yes, essentially I have a dog named "dog," but it's an odd enough name that it makes for a great conversation started at the dog park. One of her many nicknames is BDD. It alternately stands for Big Dumb Dog, and Behavioral Disorder Dog. Perhaps it was her chewing habit, or her love of fresh garbage that landed her in and out of shelters before she came to live with me. I knew that others had failed to love her enough to allow her to continue shredding their precious belongings every day, but to me, nothing was more precious than her obvious desire to please me. In addition, she is very respectful of my two cats. On her first visit, my eldest cat Leo went to check her out, and as he entered the room she bowed. He gave me his approval, and I signed the adoption papers. I have even caught her and my enormous female cat Luna almost snuggling on several occasions.

Roy also has a dog. Her name is Sage, and like Guinta, she is a Rottwieler mix. Roy keeps saying her other breed is Labrador, but she is much smaller than the Rott/Lab mixes I've met in the past, and she has a little white cream puff on her chest to match her single white paw. By her size and intelligence, I have to assume she's some kind of collie. Sage is already familiar with two of the other three dogs that will be present at Wagons. Shady is another older female… the first Lili (the alpha bitch) will have encountered in their own territory. Each of her eyes is pale blue on top, and brown on the bottom giving her stare the look that earned her such an ominous name. She is older than Lili, and her arthritis makes her snappy. Her bark is piercing, but she is otherwise a relatively gentle dog. Other than my cats having to adjust to a house with six dogs, the relationship between Shady and Lili is what I worry most about.

I have been procrastinating. As I always do with change, I deny they are happening until I am in its throws and can deny it no longer. I put on a CD of Jack Kerouac reciting prose in front of a jazz band as if to distract myself from my own nostalgia by borrowing his. I struggle at first with the shear magnitude of dirty dishes before me, but as they become more manageable I go into a Zen like state and zone out. The music reminds me of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, and I wonder what else Jack Kerouac and Fred Rogers had in common. Later I'm packing up my portable hard drive, mini DV tapes and cables trying not to think about all the work I had planned to get done here, and how much still needs to be done. I try not to think that this fire burning in the woodstove will be the last I light here…. that my evening romp with Roy before he left for his second shift may be our last in this bed….that these boxes I'm packing will be unpacked and packed again in a matter of months. Leo jumps on the table and shoves his furry head into my face, as if he has heard my mental plea for distraction.

Life after death

Every sociologist should experiment with altering their universe from time to time to observe another way of life and get perspective. Since I returned from Ecuador in October, I have been living in the tiny mountain town of Roslyn Washington. The town had it's proverbial "fifteen minutes of fame" in the 1990's when it became the set for the network series "Northern Exposure." In fact, that was why I first came to visit in 1997. However, it was not the program, but the town itself that kept me coming back periodically over the years that I lived in Seattle. On that first visit, I went into an ice cream parlor that was situated where the furniture store is now. There, standing at the counter I saw a woman who (though I'd never seen her before) had an intense familiarity about her. She saw me too, and felt the same. Though neither of us could explain it, the two of us embraced eachother as though we were seeing a long lost friend. Later that day, a local kid told me that I would end up living here some day, and that ultimately I would die here. I didn't think he was saying this to scare me, but rather to inform me. I never thought I would actually live here. After all, I was an urbanite through and through. Since moving to Seattle, I had fallen in love with the diversity and the culture. I had benefited from the opportunites the city had to offer, and had become immersed in the music and arts scene. To me, a town like Roslyn was simply a nice little get away not too far from the city.

So, how did I end up here?
When I left Ecuador the first time, I had changed. Living with the Quechua and the Huaorani gave me new perspective on life. I began to question our lives of convienince. I began to see how having the city at my fingertips had kept me from seeing the things in life that were really important. The city's vibration fell out of sync with my own. I began to see that the abundance of the city was making me weak. I needed to get away.
So, I woke up one Saturday, threw my dogs in the car and started driving. I didn't know where I was going. I headed south on I-5 for a while till I saw an exit for a highway I'd never traveled on before. I followed the winding two lane highway till it merged with I90 and I found myself heading toward Roslyn. It had been a while since my last visit, so I decided to go have some lunch and let my dogs run around in the woods. When I got here, I met a few locals who decided to celebrate my arrival with a spontaneous barbeque. The rapid pace of my city existance slowed for a moment, till I tore myself away and returned to Seattle. I started to come out every weekend. The summer was coming to an end, but the weather was still warm and inviting. My hounds and I were welcomed to stay with my new friend Brent, and we enjoyed our little get aways.
However, as I prepared to leave my position at SCAN, and for my October trip to Ecuador, I was unable to visit Roslyn. Sucked back in to the demands of the city, I started to lose sight of what it is that is truely important to me.

From there began the painful process of letting go. I had to let go of the job that was the center of my universe.... all the programs I'd created, and young people I had built relationships with. My work had been the thing that had kept me going, even when my heart and hopes were broken from loving a man that I could not help. I had to let go of the house he and I had shared, and the memories and the shattered illusions. I had to let go of my home.... my friends.... my idea of who I was and what I could be. Everything had to go. It felt like dying.

My first weeks in Roslyn were difficult. I struggled with my attachments. I thought of what I was giving up. I fretted over the uncertainty of what was to come. I sat alone in an old coal miners house trying to master the wood-stove. I paced back and forth afraid for the state of my mind. In town, I felt both acceptance and rejection. I was not certain I would ever fit in here. To make things worse, my dogs were quickly 86ed from the dog friendly tavern in town. Without them, I would not have my instant conversation starters. I would not have the sense of security that their furry little faces give me when they are near. I avoided that tavern because of my embarrassment for their behavior, and went into isolation mode. I honestly felt as though my broken heart had killed me, and my soul was hanging in limbo.

Despite the depression I was falling into, I continued to wake up every morning and try to make progress. I knew that at four everyday, my one and only friend in Roslyn, Brent, would be at the brick downing his screwdrivers. Because of his routine, I found my own. Usually, I'd sleep as late as I could, then take my laptop to the coffee shop (lefties) and try to get some work done. At four I would go see Brent and cling to him till it was time to sleep again. I was increadibly lonely, but because of the constant struggle in my mind, I was not ready to look for companionship. In fact it caught me completely off guard when one night at the brick I met smiles with one Roy Alan Crowe.

I was having a smoke on the the back patio when I looked down at the men loading wood into the basement of the Brick. Roy looked up, our eyes met, and we both smiled. I finished my cigarette and went home to let my dogs out. When I got back Roy and Brent were sitting together at the bar. I tried to play it cool. I knew I didn't want to date anybody in this town, and was confident that my resolve would hold up. Brent invited us both to his house to eat a duck his room mate had shot that afternoon. I have no taste for duck, but still I agreed to head over. After dinner, and a movie which we all chatted through and barely watched, I consented to giving Roy a ride home.

In the truck on the way to his house, Roy looked at me with his cute face and his big blue eyes and told me he wanted to be a rock star. I flashed back to all the self proclaimed "rock stars" I'd dated in the past and felt sick. My flirty smile left my lips and I growled at him that he had just lost any points he may have had. Not knowing how to respond to my sudden hostility, he got quite, and I dropped him off and went home.

Later that week, I needed to purchase something or another from the local sundries shop, so I walked into town. Upon entering the shop, I saw Roy standing behind the counter. I was immediately relieved to know that he could easily be found there. We talked in a flirty manner for a while, and I left to go about my business in town. The next day, I was sitting in the same chair I'm writing from now at Lefties when Roy finished his shift at Central Sundries and came in for some coffee. The internet was down, and I couldn't get the work done that I needed to, so he offered to take me to Cle Elum to another place he knew of with a reliable wireless connection.

Two months later, Roy and I are considering that trip to Cle Elum our first date. We hung out all afternoon, and when he had to go run the audio board that night at the Brick, I went with him to talk to the owner about filming the bands that play there. As the night wore on, I felt too tired to stay around so I said goodbye to Roy and headed home. I took my night time meds, and went to bed. Several hours later, when the band had finished and the bar had closed, Roy found his way to my front door. Having woken me up from a sound drug-enduced sleep, I stumbled to the door and let him in. We sat on the couch and awkwardly conversed for the next hour or so till I couldn't hold my eyelids open any longer. I went into my room to lay down, and he came in to give me a hug and say good night. I was impressed that he didn't attempt to take advantage of my sedation and climb in bed with me. The next morning I left for Seattle.

to be continued.....

Just outside of Paradise

just outside of paradise
is where they shot you down
you point your pistol to the sky
and plant your feet into the ground
and break the silence of the night
just to hear the sound
'cause you just can't imagine why
there's no mercy to be found

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

just outside of paradise
you held it in your gaze
but it's so hard to reach it when
your lost inside this wicked maze
and you thought you were counting stars
when you were counting days
but no one would have ever thought
that you'd be taken out this way

singing:

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

just outside of paradise
the ones you left behind
take deep breaths and close their eyes
and try to free their minds
remembering the way you were
so beautiful and kind
the peace that you were looking for
is what we hope you'll find

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation

Love
Light
and liberation

Love
Light
and Liberation





REST IN PEACE BROTHER E.

.

The mind is the center of the living being. It is the perceiver, and translator of information. It is always working to organize and collect the knowledge we need to move through our lives and relate to the world around us. What is similar about our minds is that they all have a method of visualization. Every person's mind conjures up abstract images to comprehend complex concepts such as the flow of time. However, every mind is unique in how that image represents itself because something like time cannot be documented in a uniform way. Yes of course, there is the clock, and the calendar…. the standards for measurement of time. But how each person experiences the flow of time varies, and thus our mental pictures are inevitably egocentric.
For much of my life I have viewed the flow of time as a straight line that flowed up a slight grade from the beginning of time till the end of the 1970's. In the late 70's time curved to the right and flowed horizontally through the 80's till it came to the 90's at which point it curved left again and continued in the direction it had always gone, only at a different longitude. Of course in the context of my own cognitive development this concept of the flow of time makes perfect sense. Still I am aware that the flow of time was not diverted by my birth and redirected as I Living in the "present moment" is the goal of meditation. It is what many enlightened people strive to do in their daily lives. It is a nearly impossible destination that we live in and yet continually fail to experience. It requires focus and concentration, and yet the only way to get there is to not try at all. It is a concept that is difficult for our mind to categorize because it is constantly in motion. In fact, the mere attempt to ignore the past and future inevitably draws our mind to those forbidden places where we continue to fight against our own fixations. So if the present moment is truly all that there is, then why is it so difficult to grab a hold of?
My new visualization of time as a single dot has led me to believe that the present moment is no more real than the past and the future. In fact they are all the same moment. We could not have arrived in the present moment without the experiences of our past or our trajectory into the future. To invalidate the past and ignore the future is to deny the present moment the context that makes it so unique and special.
As I sit here and write in this moment, I am simultaneously the person I was, the person I am, and the person I will become. I am the child who felt empathy for inanimate objects, I am the writer contemplating her truth, and I am the traveler who will seek out new perspective by leaving behind all comfort and familiarity. Trying to distinguish this moment from all those that brought me here, and all of those to come no longer seems like a path to enlightenment, but rather another distraction from the relative meaninglessness of our definitions of time.
Lately I have been remembering. I have been rediscovering moments that I had thought were gone forever that seem to have some relevance to where I currently find myself. The experience has reminded me that all of these moments including this one right here, exist only in my mind. To beat myself up for reflecting on the past or pondering the future is as lethal to my peace of mind as failing to recognize the present moment could ever be. If all of time is a single moment than what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen are all occurring at once, and the boundaries we place around moments are as arbitrary as national borders. All of time is as tiny as an atom, and as expansive as our infinite universe. It is all there is, and it is nothing.

?

fatal frustration and stubborn resistance
are making me ponder my very existence
looking into all the things I'm afraid of
gaining the strength to show them what I'm made of
and all of the walls that they've built up around me
can not succeed at their goal to impound me
and when I take flight there'll be nothing to ground me
high as a kite on the love that surrounds me

light

There's a light that shines in the darkness
there's a darkness covering the light
I was trying to reach out for something
but what I grabbed ahold of wasn't right
there's a voice misguiding the people
telling us that things are what we need
we are so consumed with consumption
we don't even recognize our greed
we will take the world as our prisoner
we'll surrender only to ourselves
we will wash the blood from our hands now
while we revel in god-given wealth
I'll reject the ways of the system
I will say out loud I've had enough
nothing here is making me happy
I can not fill my emptiness with stuff

I close my eyes to see through the lies now
Open up my heart to feel the truth
we're all in the same situation
I was never seperate from you
we were born to live from the sweet earth
we have taken more than what we need
some are dying cause they've over eaten
others starve 'cause there's nothing to eat
we have thrown the world out of balance
we have built a wall to hide behind
we throw stones at brothers and sisters
just because they do not share our mind

I'm the girl who waits on the sidelines
no one knows I plan to change the game
I'll rewrite the rules if I want to
'cause the ones we're playing by are lame
I will fight to level the play field
I will give a voice to those you hush
you can't buy me out with your money
the only thing I really need is love

Fluid Transitions

The power to keep me from sleeping at night
sitting in darkness just pondering light
waiting in shadows to keep myself hidden
doing the best with the gifts I've been given

There was a time I was lost in a haze
consumed by what others were thinking
making my way like a rat in a maze
caught in the quicksand and sinking

I have been frightened by beautiful things
I have avoided contentment
I have felt love like the binding of strings
turning all joy to resentment

Now I am coming around to the truth
that fear only owns what I give it
and beauty exists everywhere that I look
and life will unfold as I live it

winding my way down the path I have taken
staring off into the distance
what once lay in sleep has now been awakened
I have begun my resistance

tenderness comes from the love that I feel
floating as soft as the breeze
giving me peace and a new found belief
growing inside as I breathe

gravity's taking us all on a journey
through light years of distance and time
we are all travelers asleep at the wheel
free but still feeling confined

frightened by nightmares twisting our dreams
hiding from our full potential
distracting ourselves with the meaningless things
that keep us from what is essential

So I'll walk away and leave it behind me
finally finding my place
I'm just a small composition of cells
spinning through infinite space

photos

Gratitude

It is amazing to me that the last time I posted it was to express fear for what has proven to be the most amazing experience of my life. There is no way I could have imagined the peace I would find in the jungle. To live amongst people who have no sense of urgency, no greed, no vanity, no jealousy..... To experience a life that is in such complete harmony with its surroundings.... It has helped me to discover that what has been diagnosed as a chemical imbalance, is in all acutuality a cultural imbalance. Since I returned I have thrown myself into editing the footage of the Huaorani into a documentary that has already managed to find it's way to the spotlight. It's all happening so fast, but it's so fantastic that I can only surrender to my good fortune and try to live up to the responsibility I have taken on. And as all this awesome positivity comes flowing into my life, I have begun to recognize how each person who has ever believed in me has brought me to this moment. I now have the opportunity to contribute to a global effort to fight the oil and timber companies that are destroying our planet and help to preserve a culture that has deeply touched my heart with their genuine strength and grace. I have an opportunity and a responsibility to follow this passion that I feel by using the tools and skills that I have learned in this life. Every moment has led to now, and I am greatful to be here.

this is it

I am about to embark on the adventure of a life time. I will be traveling by three passenger plane to the heart of the Amazon Rain Forest to live with the Huaorani people. I am excited..... but honestly, I am more afraid than I can ever remember being before.

something gone, something gained

holding it up to the light to see through it
there are some places that I'd rather be
expecting the night to consume all my worries
asking for truth to come permiate me
looking for creatures that live in the dark woods
waiting in silence to feel some relief
holding it in I'm afraid to release it
not certain that I'll match the strength of this grief
taking a walk just to losen my body
taking a nap cause I feel overwhelmed
taking a break from persuit of loves conquest
listening only for absence of sound
I have been trying to find peace in a war zone
I have been lying to cover my fears
there is a mold that been growing in my mind
blurring the lines that distinguish the years
and memories hide undernieth for safe keeping
surfacing only when needed
and patterns appear in mosaics before me
only when they've been repeated
now I have been free from the threads that control me
I have lived naturally under the sky
I have embraced what has brought me to this time
savoring it as it passes me by
these are the stories that can not be written
there's an awareness that comes from the stars
there is a magic that flows from our mother
everything's hers that we have claimed as ours
I have held hands that were darker than my own
I have kissed lips that were full like the moon
I have braved jungles just looming with dangers
traveled down rivers in dug-out canoes
I have found peace with the dawning of sunlight
I've bathed in waterfalls under it's rays
I have seen right through all the lies of our culture
chosing a life based on how much it pays
I will go forward in any direction
I will cry out like a wolfe in the night
I see the beauty that shouldn't be wasted
I will join into the peacemakers fight

rainbows

the folk singers sing about butterflies
and traveling places by train
rainbows and sunshine and stars in the sky
and how we're all one and the same
but under my clothing my body is bruised
behind all my silence is fear
and though it may seem we're together in this
things are not what they appear
and I'm growing weary of holding it in
but I can not sing to a crowd
the things that I am most needing to say
are things I could not say outloud
'cause I'm being chased and persued by a demon
no matter how far I can go I can't leave him
and he is a shadow that keeps me from sunshine
looming above me creating these dark times
but I'm growing wings so that I can fly
leaving him down on the earth
and take all the lessons that I've learned from him
for whatever it is that they're worth

danger

do not play in on or around
there is danger in what you are doing
there is a hole in what was solid ground
that is filled with what people have ruined
and the light in the sky doesn't burn quite as bright
through the haze of the cloud we've created
and compassion's the only salvation for those
who have only known passion in hatred

loneliness connects us all
because we fail to see
that we are not alone in that
we share life energy

so what of the land is still virgin and pure,
what haven't we raped with machines?
we're long past the point where we've gone way too far
now nothing will ever be clean
and some of us try, but not hard enough
most just don't bother at all
then there are those who are flaunting their waste
just to prove to you they've got it all

loneliness connects us all
because we fail to see
that we are not alone in that
we share life energy

patchwork

the sky was the limit
but now it's descending
and all of the plans
I was making are pending
and winter's persistent
with percipatation
and I'm filling up
like a pool of frustration
and everything's heavy
like fog in the air
and my mind runs laps
while my eyes blankly stare
cause I died the day
that I stopped believing
now everyone who's ever
loved me is leaving
I wish I could cry
but I haven't been able
cause I always try
to appear to be stable
but I'm just the product
of imagination
and dreams that were conjured
while under sedation
so talk to me straight
and look into my eyes
I think you will see
that I wear no disguise
and I'm thin as air
still you can't see through me
so there is nothing to me

state of mind (two)

another dreary winter day
another quiet morning
another stretch and sip of tea
another round of yawning

looking out the window
looking for something unknown
looking for the eagle
purching greatly on his thrown

what I see is moss on trees
and what I hear is singing
but what am I to make of this
if nothing has a meaning?

I think too much when I wake up
I need to think of breathing
I need to get perspective on
this life that I've been leading

so I'll take another sip of tea
and go and take a shower
and take some time to think
while I'm just taking in the flowers

burning

I'm burning all the letters
that I wrote and never sent
hoping to release myself
from all their sentiment
and when my thoughts
have turned to you
and when my heart is yearning
I add another poem
to the fire for its burning
but flames can't touch the heat
of what I felt inside my heart
as I tried to piece together
that which you had torn apart
but now the shreds float in the sky
and ashes fall like snowflakes
and embers in the night will burn
all evidence of our mistakes

numbers

standing in the food bank line
to find something to eat
some over-ripe bannanas
or a can of mystery meat
and hunger is the driving force
that lead you to their door
'cause working hard has never changed
the fact that you are poor
and costs just keep on rising
while your wages stay the same
and beggars can't be chosers
so you're forced to play their game
and slipping through the cracks you try
to grab ahold of something
'cause all of their statistics
simply hiding you from one thing
that there are peoples lives beneath
their piling of numbers
breaking down thier bodies
while the rich man safely slumbers
and from their sweat a million earned
but he won't share his profits
'cause he was chosen for this wealth
because of who his pop is

Ashlee

with hair like a fire
and curves like a river
there isn't a thing
that she needs you to give her
she's standing up tall
keeping pride in her step
and flashing a smile
you could never forget
she's strong in her presence
and in her convictions
and all too aware
of the worlds contradictions
she's quick in her wit
and kind in her spirit
she'll tell you the truth
just when you need to hear it
her friendship is golden
she's full of compassion
she'll answer you're question
before you can ask it
and when things are lovely
she's there to have fun
and when you need comfort
she's there to give some
born on this day
she has gathered together
those who would say
that they'll love her forever
and I'd like to thank her
for all that she's given
I'm much better off
just because she is living

unity in solitude

taking leave where trees are thick
and mountain tops are high
and ocean waves reflect the sun
descending from the sky
and taking wood to sand I write
the words for what I'm seeking
when creature conversations
are the company I'm keeping

mr. scary frame 1

mr. scary frame 2

mr. scary frame 3

mr. scary frame 4

mr. scary frame 5

mr. scary frame 6

mr. scary frame 7

mr. scary frame 8

mr. scary frame 9

the greatest love that never was

you were on the outside
looking in on my confusion
I was on the inside
staring out at an illusion
and my interpretation
of the things that I could see
was only a projection
of what I wanted to be
and you were looking past me
when all I could see was you
and everything you asked of me
I tried so hard to do
but letting go's the hardest thing
that you've ever demanded
you've refused the greatest gift
that you've ever been handed
and as I walk away I feel
that I have been defeated
I have failed to learn from
the mistakes that I've repeated
and I have failed to share the joy
that loving you once brought me
but I won't fail to make use of
the lesson this has taught me

state of mind (one)

In a dream our darkest fears
In a sense it all seems senseless
In a wall a door appears

Take my time and lead me somewhere
Take my flesh and have your way
Take my burdens to the ether
Take the words that I can’t say

Wait for me till I come back here
Wait till night dawns into day
Wait beside the flowing river
Wait till time has passed away

Give me strength through tenderness
Give me grace in freedom
Give me songs of dreams to sing
Give me eyes to see them

Closer than a mothers nurture
Closer than the touch of skin
Closer to the source of magic
That you’re known to keep within

I have seen behind your eyes now
I have folded on my knees
I have come to you in kindness
I’m the answer to your pleas

You were brought to me by shadows

In our worlds we move as time does
In and out and changing pace
In the end we’re only atoms
On a trip through time and space

So let us be what we admire
Letting things be what they will
Let your body take its rest now
Let your mind be soft and still

Scavenger Belle

scavenger belle
she sees him walk by
her lips start to swell
he'll sit by her side
then ravage her well
they'll both wake up smiling
new stories to tell
of paths intertwining

no direction
the way that you feel
seeking protection
from life that's too real
deep in her comfort
they both start to feel
what could never be writen
to sweeten the deal

light in the sky
it's treating you kindly
the stars in your eyes
they gently remind me
that things that are gone
can always come back
we're both staying strong
it's foresight we lack

double speak......

wrap your words around my head
when what you really mean
is nothing close to what you've said
and nothing's as it seems
and money is a power play
and friendship can be bought
and you pretend you're everything
that you are clearly not
and now I'm growing weary
of your principled convictions
using up my patience
'cause nobody else will listen
but what I hear is double speak
in language that's unclear
and words that try to cover
that you're governed by your fear
now my time's been wasted
and my threshold has been tested
'cause ego's the commodity
in which you are invested
and you'll cast the first stone
just to avoid being rejected
but all your wealth can't change the fact
that you are not respected

singin' in the rain

Lately it seems like every time I get in the shower.... or whenever I'm so stressed out that I'm about to crack, I start singing "singin' in the rain" and something about it seems to help. At this point I'm a little worried that it's become too automatic, and that someday I'll find myself rocking back and forth on the back seat of a city bus compulsively singing the classical musical theme.... but till then, I've decided to write my own version that is more consistent with the issues I've been dealing with lately.

So here it is.... (with a bluesy feel)


I'm singin' in the rain
just singing in the rain
ain't no glorious feelin'
I'm in trouble once again

I was driven down the highway
just a singin' to the beat
of the thunder rolling my way
pedals under heavy feet
and the road was gettin' to me
those white lines kept flyin' by
everyone who thought they knew me
never looked me in the eye

now I'm drawin' some attention
as I'm drivin' through a town
I'm defying all convention
and they want to look around
and I know that they'll find something
that will put me in a bind
and it's lookin' more and more like
I might do a little time

but a jail cell ain't a home now
like a dog locked in the pound
and I know you think I'm lost but
I ain't lookin' to be found
so take me for my word brother
and open up the gate
'cause there's nothin' I can do in here
but sit around and wait

now there's someone on the outside
who's been working night and day
just to gather all the money
that they're asking her to pay
and all she wants for her efforts
is to see me safe again
and I'm learning from her actions
what it means to have a friend

now I'm singing in the raing baby
just singing in the rain
'cause your love has set me free baby
I'm on the road again.

funeral

I began my day with a funeral.

I woke this morning and walked into the room that immediately adjoins myown, and noticed feathers strewn about. I thought at first that one of my cats had gotten to my feather boa, or my new flapper hat with the peacock feather. I looked down and saw the small lifeless body of a baby sparrow lying against the wall on the rug. I screamed "oh my god" and instantly thought of it as being a negative omen. I picked up the bird in some paper towels and set it on the front porch. Fearing that the bird might spread some kind of illness, I closed the door blocking access to the feathers from my pets. I called my best friend and lover to ask that he be extra cautios in his days travels, and set out to find a shovel to create a proper grave for the deceased animal. The bird was small, so I was able to dig its grave with a large spoon. I dug nine inches or so into the ground, and placed the soft delicate body into its final resting place. As I covered it with earth, I wished it a happy return. Words were said in the small creatures honor....
then I went inside and prepared myself for another day.

ROODBLOG Turns 1!!!!!!!!

Happy Birthday to you....

Happy Birthday to you....

Happy Birthday to ROODBLOG

Happy Birthday to you!

we are free

I feel your warmth inside my heart
and the tips of all my fingers
the essence of your presence
is a thing that often lingers
and the beauty of experience
that you and I've created
and that which we have learned because
of how our souls related
so let me be your gypsy wife
and be my music man
we'll make the most out of this life
and be all that we can
and we'll learn every lesson
that this life is here to teach us
and when we wish to be alone
no one will ever reach us

elements

you know that there is something
that I need to vocalize
you've felt it there between us
and you've seen it in my eyes
infinity is finite
when each moment's lost to passing
and there is something in our reach
that we just aren't quite grasping
when handed something delicate
we practice our releases
and slipping through our shaky hands
we let it fall to pieces
and it seems that we're both losing
in a game where no one wins
but when I see it's time to fold
I throw everything in
'cause there are things I speculate
and there are things I know
like the seeds that we have planted
will determine what will grow
and I believe in something
that I feel inside of you
and every time that our paths cross
you've created life anew
and we'll just keep evolving
till the moment we expire
surrendering our matter to
earth, water, air and fire

City of Fools

the man I love
in the town I hate
well feelin' so bad
never felt so great
and all the things I am
and the things I ain't
keep comin' back around
just to set me straight

and I'm flyin' high
but I'm feelin low
'cause the harvest comes
from the seeds we sew
and I'd like to stay
but I have to go
'cause I'm wanted here
for the things I know

well the time was right
but the place was wrong
and the radio's playin'
the saddest song
and you've gone so far
and it's been so long
and I wonder when you'll
be coming home

now the girls 'round here
got the hungry eyes
for the man who wins
the greatest prize
and there ain't no love
but it's no surprise
try not to show
all the hurt inside

well the dice are hot
but the table's cold
and what's young in me
is growing old
and everything you had's
been bought and sold
only thing that's left
is a heart of gold

So I know a man
with a diamond ring
says he can get you
anything
but the things he has
don't come for free
but they'll make you cry
and they'll make you sing

well the canyon walls
are tall and red
and my papa came here
just to clear his head
and he felt alive
but he wound up dead
but I still keep hearin'
the words he said

change

autumn leaves beneath my feet
and each one that comes down
will be replaced by life anew
when spring comes back around
and music sings inside the ears
of those who choose to hear it
and change is just a part of life
there's no reason to fear it
and my minds been a hiding place
that I've been locked away in
so I try to clean the space
to make it nice to stay in
and I would love most anyone
who you would choose to be
and show you almost anything
that you might ask to see
'cause my nature is to love you
it's inherent in my spirit
and I'll have a kind word for you
if you just need to hear it.

Self Help Queen

the truth's no concern
you just say what you will
you're a snake in the grass
you're a poisoned quill
and you call yourself friend
but behind the facade
you have no respect
now my trust is at odds
'cause you put on a face
that is pleasant to see
hiding the anger
you feel undernieth
and you're setting your sights
on the ruin of others
all because you're
unfulfilled by your lover
and you need to take time
to reflect on yourself
instead of examining
everyone else
'cause deep down beneath
the weight you have gained
there's someone inside
whose imprisoned by shame
so you'll point all your finger
and you'll call people names
'cause you think that you'll win
just because you play games

the patient

here I am the patient
trying to tell you how I feel
but it's so hard to know for sure
if any of it's real
and you've got your pen and note-pad
to record the information
that you think will come in handy
for constructing my salvation
'cause every thing's objective
from a strangers point of view
and that's what people pay you for
so that's the thing you do
and every person is a whore
whose working for a paycheck
but even though we're being used
we hesitate to say it
'cause we're in working order
when our wheels do not squeak
and strength needs sustenance 
and so it chews upon the weak
and you'll take home a profit
just to hear a sad girl speak
and I'll be better off for it
'cause you've got what I need.

physics

Poets and Prophets
mad men and kings
speak truth to their wisdom
of little known things
on pages and pulpits
and corners of streets
portraying for others
the things that they see

my friends we have risen
and now is the time
the poetry is rich
and the madness is divine
we'll move the world forward
an inch at a time
change comes as easy
as changing your mind

when feet walk on ground
soiled with blood
a moment to reflect upon
the ones that we have loved
and we're fighting every battle
never knowing what it's for
taking from another's flesh
the holy sacrament of war

and parking lots house oil spills
that drain into the sea
and no one wants to feel the weight
of their responsibility
cause all our heads are spinning
like the earth around its axis
all our drinking water
has become radio-active...
and blood has stained the hands
of the ones who remain passive
it's time for equal opposites
to rise to the reaction.

Sun Shines

I thought I'd run away
but I didn't get too far
now I'm sitting here alone
in a Portland hipster bar
and there's no conversation
just the swaying lantern light
that's not quite bright enough to see
the words I try to write

sirens at my ankles
statues fill my eyes
footsteps growing slower now
'cause I don't want to arrive
there's fighting in the next room
between a woman and her man
it's helping me remember why
I'm leaving while I can

yellow lines are soothing
just by taking me somewhere
it seems no matter where I go
our memories are there
and I need to stop this waiting
'cause it's driving me insane
absorb the sun that's shining now
shining through the rain

the motel room is spinning now
from one too many drinks
not sure what went down in here
but something really stinks
and I'm trying not to think of you
and so I change my mind
trying to find other thoughts
to fill the vacant time

disappointment's heavy
and the weight is hard to bare
now I'm craving lightness
now all I need is air
so I point my wheels west
and head toward the ocean
sorrow can't catch up to me
if I remain in motion

yellow lines are soothing
just by taking me somewhere
it seems no matter where I go
our memories are there
and I need to stop this waiting
'cause it's driving me insane
absorb the sun that's shining now
shining through the rain

Little Red Studio

softly touching, bodies move
an air of beauty fills the room
and liberation's not a fight
where I find myself tonight
and strangers hands caress my skin
and take me to a place
that is so far from caution
and has no use for disgrace
and naked bodies soothe me into
natural states of being
I'm not afraid of showing
parts of me so seldom seen
then she leads me to the alter
to be worshiped by its idols
there's no such thing as jealousy
and no one is my rival
all ages and all colors
and all ways of living life
take me deep into their arms
and whisper everything's alright

confirmation

All weekend I have been intending to get here to the internet cafe' and post a poem I wrote friday night during an interactive erotic artistic experience at a place called the little red studio. The experience was quite liberating, and as I sit down to reflect on it, I'm struck with how little I'm able to feel that sense of liberation in the presant moment. You see, today begins the confirmation hearing for John Roberts who has been nominated to become the next Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court. This confirmation process is the one democratic moment that will be followed by a career of judicial independance, and the potential for judicial activism. There is a lot at stake here, and yet Republicans in congress continue to announce that this confirmation hearing is not an appropriate venue for scrutiny over Roberts view on issues including civil rights, women's rights and privacy. If this is not the time, when is?
By calling into question the appropriateness of addressing the issues that will more than likely come before the court under his leadership, the right wing not only discredits the concerns of their collegues in congress and the constituancies they represent, but attempts to deny them the right to raise concern at all. Today is a day whose events will impact generations of Americans. As I sit here feeling helpless and anxious, people are going about their daily business unaware that their rights are being undermined by a religious agenda.


I apologize to those of you who came looking for erotic poetry. I'm afraid I'm just not in the mood.

-Jillian

kill the poet

I tried to kill the poet
by destroying all her words
but it seems the tearing
as the sweetest sound she'd ever heard
she can't help but see the beauty
in these moments of despair
with all her precious poetry
like ribbons in the air

I tried to kill the poet
because she stands accused
my hearts been fooled by whimsy
and my body has been used
I'm tired of her brave ideals
that keep me full of hope
that leaves me disappointed
so I'll need her help to cope

My objective self is killing me
torturing my hear for poetry

I tried to kill the poet
but she simply wouldn't die
she sits and writes these words right now
to prove she's still alive
I didn't want to feel the things
that fuel her lyric fire
I can't believe in all the dreams
to which she still aspires

my objective self is killing me
torturing my heart for poetry

I tried to kill the poet
because she's the part of me
that leaves the dagger in my heart
just to feel the sting
and my love is the cruelest love
that she has ever seen
she says his poet is her soul-mate
and I wanted to believe

but things are not in waking life
the way they are in dreams
and love is not the blessing
that at first it always seems
and so I shred the bounty
that she harvests from my sorrow
and silence for a moment
what will just return tomorrow

my objective self is killing me
torturing my heart for poetry

something sacred

Laying down in my bed at night to go to sleep, I often lay awake in the dark with my head reeling over the day, the week, my life-time.... Often I keep myself up untill I my body starts to shut down of it's own accord just to avoid that time. Lately, I have found that if I lay my body down on the couch and listen to NPR, I can manage to distract my mind with thoughts outside myself and I fall asleep with little effort. So, there I was at 2am listening to the BBC world news when I heard about the monkeys of Deli. They have bread out of control and all but taken over the city. They invade offices and homes stealing food and often attacking children. The people are afraid to go outside, but still the monkeys go unchallanged in this culture that has traditionaly viewed them as sacred creatures representing the Hindu god Hanomon (spelling?).
I thought this might make a great topic for a blog tangent, so I started thinking of it in terms of the problems that arrise when the things that we hold sacred over-run our lives. I tried to draw parallels to our culture, but quickly realized that while individuals in our culture cling to their own symbols of meaning and relevance, there is no one thing that we as a nation collectively hold sacred.

Let's take a look at the sacred value of human life.
Right wing Christian conservatives will tell you that the right to life is sacred. But despite the passion with which they persue their "pro-life" aganda, it is very difficult for me to believe that life is actually something sacred to them. If life were sacred, then the lives of all people, including the hundreds of thousands of innocent people they have slain in the "war on terrorism" would be sacred too. The lives of death-row inmates would be sacred. The lives of children outside of the womb... those in need of education and health care... you'd think those might be sacred too, but they are not. These unwanted children are largely ignored until they become old enough to join the military, and then, they are ferousiously recruited so that once again, their lives can be treated as expendable, and their deaths can be dismissed as "collatoral damage." It seems that the monkeys of Deli are more sacred than the poor of America.

How about family?
I remember my last visit with my father before he died. We walked along the docks of the marina in Laughlin Nevada, and talked about all things. At the time, he was very interested in buying a small house boat to live on, but was afraid of what my grand-mother might think. He told me that she was always so proud of the home that he and my uncle had built.... the home I had grown up in. He didn't want to hear the disappointment in her voice when she learned that he had chosen a life-style that to her would seem transient. I remember feeling incredibly surprised that at his age he still worried so much about obtaining his mothers approval. I have even known people who have been abused or neglected by their families, who still drive themselves crazy trying to feel that sense of familial harmony, that realistically will never exist for them. But does this need to be loved and appreciated for who we are by the people who brought us into this world mean that family is something sacred? From this perspective, it seems to be the opposite. If family were sacred, wouldn't that love and approval be inherant in those relationships? But then again, I believe that if family weren't sacred, we would let go of the concerns that make us worry about them... that makes us want to please... that make us care about those who have strayed into what we see as dangerous territory. Maybe our families are the sacred monkeys that over-take our lives.

What about love?
Perhaps this will reflect my growing cynicism on the subject... but as far as I can tell, love is as sacred in this culture as it is to the multiplying monkeys themselves.

So, how do we look at the situation in Deli. Do we laugh at them because they have allowed their beliefe in a symbol to over-ride the health and well being of the people in their society? Or do we admire their integrity for not dismissing their sacred symbols because they have become inconvienant.

Realistically speaking, I think that the best solution for the monkey problem is to implement an intensive spay and neuter program to help keep the population down.

It wouldn't hurt us to think about how reducing unwanted pregnancies through education about contraception could help allieviate the other problems I mentiononed when examining our own culture. Perhaps, we are the monkeys who have bred out of control and become nuisances.

But if we are the monkeys, we need to remember that we ourselves are something sacred and treat ourselves accordingly.

spun....

it's in the webs we weave
and the prices that we pay
for the things that we believe
and the beliefs that we betray
and we're living in a jungle
where we can not see the trees
distracted by the errors
that we're not supposed to see
and spiders are at work tonight
spinning silk by full moon-light
helping us learn how to simply be
And water is the blood that flows
through river beds like veins
rushing to the ocean
to return as rain again
and humans are the toxins
that the earth must filter out
but still she lets us live
and she will give
and she will give
until we've taken all there is
and we have worn our welcome out

6am

I want to put my lips to yours
to feel the breath within you
and fall so deep into your eyes
that I see things from their view
I want my touch to tell you things
that voices can not say
I'd like to spend the night with you
but night's turned into day
so we sit here in this silence

that is comfortable and clear
and listen to the subtleties
that we forget to hear
and weariness comes creeping in
and though we are inspired
I don't have the energy
that wakefulness requires

I want to go to sleep
but I don't want to sleep alone
why can't you understand
without you this place isn't home

everything is softly lit
this time will soon be gone
and you shine like the falling star
that I just wished upon
patience is the virtue
that I need to excercise
if you're meant to be with me
you'll realize it in time

my love will always be here
I hope you'll always feel it
my heart is for the taking
there is no need to steal it
life is such a fleeting thing
gone before we know it
I know there is love in you
but you're afraid to show it

I want to go to sleep
but I don't want to sleep alone
why can't you understand
without you this place isn't home

you take my breath from me
you can make my heart race
those songs you play for me
paint a different mind-scape

state of the nation

it's a great idea
and you say it's worked before
but I think it's clear to see
it isn't working any more
the rich are growing wealthier
by stealing from the poor
and those who run the system
are the ones the system's for
and the democratic visions
that so many of us shared
have been defaced by vandals
and they need to be repaired
'cause what we see is trickery
what we hear is corporate speak
they gather for their posses
those whose intellects are weak
they feed them their PR campaigns
and wash it down with booze
and make them chant for victory
just to see another lose
'cause their lives aren't the pictures
of the dreams that have been promised
and they've been told the ones who hold
the power are where god is
and they'll believe a liar
if he says he's being honest
and they'll make us live in fear
that the enemy is near
and sacrifice our liberties to calm us.

true love

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true love is a large wooden box full of metal strings and black and white keys.
When I touch her, she makes the most beautiful sounds.

I have finally found true love in my life
My true love is a slow lazy creek winding through a lush green forest.
When we are together I am at peace.

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true love is a floppy eared mutt with a purple spotted tongue.
She looks at me with love and kindness in her eyes.

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true loves are the felines who circle round my feet like a pond full of koi.
Every morning they gently coax me into wakefulness with their tender purrs.

I have finally found true love in my life.
My true love is a short tattooed blond girl who writes poetry.
She is with me everywhere I go.

photograph

they were walking towards me
staring downward at the ground
you were looking up to see
what might be coming down
and I want to wrap my arms 'round you
but they've become too thin
and you were just a photograph
that I was never in
you were just a song that I
thought I'd heard before
you were just a key for me
to unlock secret doors
you were simply poems
that I never thought I'd wright
You're the dreams that come
to visit me when I'm asleep at night
and I'm the leading lady
but my hero is a villan
and distance is the weapon
that he uses for his killing
your absence is the atmosphere
your silence is the score
and our love is the story
that I can't read into anymore.

Love and Trust

I just saw a bumper sticker that read: "Love many, Trust few.... Always row your own cannoe."

Isn't it funny when profound realizations come from the asses of carbon spewing objects?

wake down

wake down
something's changing now
my dreams are speaking for me
what I could not say out loud
and what I fear the most in life
are things that I endure
how can I be so certain
when you're still so unsure
and tonight I'll sleep between the walls
that you and I once shared
remembering the ways in which
you showed me that you cared
tomorrow I'll pick up and leave
to live beside the creek
to find the independence
and the peace of mind I seek
and I'm proud of you for all the
opportunities you've found
and hoping that you'll want to
stay with me when you're around
I know I can't hold onto you
'cause you'll be here and gone
and our love's just a detour from
the road that you are on
but just to have that moment
when you look into my eyes
and see through protective layers
that I wear for my disguise
and undernieth the callouses
a tender heart still thrives
in hopes that we'll be friends
for the remainder of our lives

precious

the life you hold is innocent
her mind is still so pure
all she has to live on
is what you will give to her
and you're yelling at her father
to be heard over the sound
of the TV that will raise her
when you can not be around
so I say a little prayer for her
that she will grow up strong
and not become the parents
who've already done her wrong



My upstairs neighbors delivered their new daughter only days ago. I can't even stand to live beneath these people, and she will have to grow up in that environment. I couldn't help thinking as I lied there trying to rest through the cacophony that is their daily routine that she ought to be experiencing the nurturing tenderness that my dog was receiving from me at the time. Instead she was surrounded by the energy of people who disrespect themselves and everyone around them for no other reason than that they lack the sensibilities to value themselves. What a way to start life.

the way it goes....

the summer air is sticky
I lie naked in my bed
I'd like to sleep, but I can't stop
the noise that's in my head
trying to make sense out of
the words that you have said
not sure that I was hungry for
the things that I've been fed

our bodies were electrical
and everything seemed right
I started to feel skeptical
when you changed over night
now thoughts that once brought warmth to me
cause shivers deep inside
you said you didn't play these games
it seems now that you lied

and because I never knew you
I'm not sure who I miss
or how you faked the passion
that I felt there in your kiss
your gentle eyes seem hardened now
they've turned from blue to gray
and when I tried to read them
they just turned and looked away

and comfort was a side effect
that wasn't meant to be
and you were looking outside
when I thought you saw inside of me
and silence is the answer
to every qustion that I ask
'cause where I saw a future
there was nothing but the past

and I know this feeling's common
but it never hurts the same
every lover is unique
in how they cause you pain
and I always seem to fall behind
so now I'll leave the race
there's no chance left at winning
and no hope of saving face

but loneliness is something
that I'll just need to embrace
'cause I've so much potential
that I wouldn't want to waste
and if you haven't seen it then
I guess that you're just blind
and wishing that you cared for me
is just a waste of time

so here I'm moving forward
trying not to look behind
purging all the toxic thoughts
poisoning my mind
and sighing deep will help release
the heaviness I've felt
I'll try to make a winning hand
from what cards I've been dealt

and I hope that you'll find happiness
in all the things you choose
with nothing to hold onto
you've got nothing to lose
and you don't have to worry 'bout
anybodies thoughts
on all the things that make you you
and all the things that you are not

and I saw something worthy
but the way that you behaved
makes me see you don't deserve me
and it seems to me a shame
'cause there were good times to be had
that we will never know
and though it kinda makes me sad
I guess that's just the way it goes.





The above poem was written late last night/early this morning. Upon further reflection I have to say that honestly I have brought all my suffering upon myself. I have hurt people in my life and acted selfishly and betrayed trust. When I write poems like these and endulge in self pitty I am just playing the victum while avoiding my own responsibility for my loneliness. Yes, there are times when I can no longer distract my observational skills from turning inward, and I don't always like what I see in there. It reminds me of a poem I wrote about a year ago when this whole cycle was originally set into motion:


the universe is a poet
our lives are it's words
the beauty we put into it
is given in return
and the hurt that we cause others
we inflict upon ourselves
the wrongs that have been done to us
we've done to someone else
it's not exactly karma
it's poetic irony
a cosmic sense of humor
manipulating energy

Missionary

Hello missionary
come and sell your god to me
I can't seem to think for myself
perhaps you'll help me see
you know that I need saving
'cause I live in poverty
I'll purchase your compassion
at the price of my belief

I've come to share my words with you
because I speak the truth
mine is the only way to see
this book I hold is prood
relief might not come in your life
but I promise when you die
you'll float up to some paradise
way up in the sky

maybe I'll save you instead
you have so much to learn
we're a peaceful people
we're just living from the earth
we're living from the earth
we're worshiping the earth
for what it's worth

the children are so hungry
this mother's heart's in sorrow
you say I must have faith today
for what will come tomorrow
we're grateful for your charity
what happens when you're gone
prayers just aren't enough to eat
how can we carry on

Gods ways are a mystery
and yes it's quite a riddle
why I've been blessed so very much
and you've been blessed so little
be careful though, he's watching you
and if you don't obey
he'll damn you to eternal hell
upon your final judgment day

maybe I'll save you instead
you have so much to learn
we're a peaceful people
we're just living from the earth
we're living from the earth
we're worshiping the earth
for what it's worth

out of the pink

I should have held a little back
but of course I laid it out
I thought that this was different
but inside I had my doubts
as much as I've been through this
you'd think that I'd have learned
that when you play with fire
there's a good chance to get burned
and jaded is the feeling
when after while you find
that pessimistic voices
speak truth most of the time
and give and take's one sided
if you're not willing to give
and getting nothing in return
is just no way to live
so I'll pick up right where I left off
as if you never were
and try harder to protect myself
to keep from getting hurt

suicide bomber

his victums call him coward
but he died for his belief
we count our dead, ignoring theirs
as if they don't feel grief
and the bombs that kill their children
we say spread democracy
and eye for an eye
will leave the world blind
unless we choose to see
the cost in lives per gallon
for our flashy SUV's
we have to change the way we live
in order to make peace

but no one wants to hear the truth
and so we dance around it
by ignoring what is obvious
the problems are compounded
but when everybody's high
on this patriotic pride
there's nothing we need more
than to be gounded
every person's blood is red
and every culture moarns their dead
we won't know what we've lost
untill we've found it.

on the way...

"CAR WASH"
a youthful voice raised to it upper most heights yelled out over the noise of traffic.
I was on my way here to the internet cafe' to do some writing. As my dog and I approached her, I read the words on her flourecent green sighn, and they said: "Help us raise money for Mexico."
"Are you actually raising money to give to poor people in Mexico?" I asked her.
"No, we're going on a mission to mexico, and some people still need money to get there."
"Oh," I said, " So, what are you preaching?"
She looked confused, and almost hesitated before answering "Christianity" in a voice that implied "duh."
"huh," I shook my head and walked away.
Her head and her sighn both seemed to lower, and I didn't hear her voice yelling "CAR WASH" behind me.
What can I say.....
I guess when you believe there is only one answer, you don't like being questioned.

fragile

there's something in your eyes right now
that makes me think you'll see
the things that other people don't
those hidden parts of me
and I want to touch your body
just to feel your warmth within
let go of what has ended
to allow this to begin
but new things are so fragile
and I worry it might break
and things that seem so genuine
could turn out to be fake
I guess that I'm just frightened
because I've believed before
that someone would be there for me
but he's not here no more
and I know I shouldn't think this way
but sometimes it's just hard
outside I might be smooth and soft
but inside I am scarred

fragments

there's no return to innocence
you can't unlearn the things you know
where does one run for shelter
when the storms rage from below
and I'm sorting through the memories
of moments that are gone
weighed down by all the heavy things
that I keep holding on
and he's like a ghost whose eyes I can see
staring intently directly through me
and the silence is an echo
and I wonder if he knows
how it feels from this perspective
or why he chose the things he chose
and words are lost when weariness
creeps into my bones
and circles come around again
because they long to close.

going south

water reflects the mood of the sky
but this time the gray doesn't match what's inside
'cause I feel like summer despite the cold breeze
'cause I'm going south where the music will be
have a new friend and I'm liking his vibe
he's going south, I'm along for the ride
and the sun will remember how I glow in its rays
and I'll be in motion for the next several days
and I think I'll forget all the things that cause worry
I'm in with the flow and in no kind of hurry
the company's good, and the view from the road
and new things to see that I've never been shown
I'm heading down south and it makes me feel free
and I'm closer to the person that lives inside of me
I'll let my feet walk barefoot, and let my skin touch air
I'll let my smile find my eyes, and take the ties out of my hair
and maybe I'll reveal the things that I don't often share
as we're rolling along to the beat of a song
all for the sake of just going somewhere.

So I wrote that piece on my way to the coffee shop to meet my new friend Mr. Pink and take off to California for a couple days. Pink works with the band Maktub (http://www.maktub.com/) who was playing a couple shows at the High Sierra Music Festival in Quincy California. Pink and I have been working on our own musical project and his keen sensitivities told him that I could use the escape, so he invited me along. I am very happy that he did because it was a great experience on multiple levels. First of all, I very much enjoyed getting to know him better because he is truly a beautiful person. I also got to experience what it's like to be on the other side of the fence. As part of the bands entourage I was given a backstage pass in the form of a blue bracelet. It almost felt like a power band at times allowing me to avoid the crowds, and most importantly the porta-potties. There were food and beverages available, and even the opportunity for free massage. I have to say that I was happy to have no reason to partake of the massage because Mr. Pink is quite the masseur himself:)
Attending a festival in this way was quite interesting. Being separate from the regular concert goers helped me to see it from a different perspective. Over the past several years I have attended quite a few of these gatherings, and was increasingly finding myself uncomfortable with something I couldn't put my finger on. You see, there are people who make a life style out of going from one festival to another all wrapped up in tie-dyed sarongs selling ganja cookies on shake-down street. There was a time in my life when I thought this was freedom. But behind the fence that separated the artists from the fans was yet another fence, and on the other side of that fence was a timber yard. As I stood there with sweaty hippies dancing to my right, and a grave yard for murdered trees on my left, I couldn't help feeling like these people were missing the point. It was interesting to watch them as they kept their eyes from wandering over to the inevitable buzz-kill of the dead trees. And while they ate mushrooms and payed homage to the earth, there was one lonely bearded man standing in a pile of garbage trying to sort out the recyclables.

Thank you bearded guy.

-Jillian

then what happened?

For those of you who are fans of foxfire, I'll simply pick up where he left off. If you have no idea what I'm talking about then checkout http://www.livejournal.com/users/foxfire/.

So, after observing another writer observing the characters in the room, I gave him my blog address, said good-night to everyone and headed home to walk my dog. Moments later I found myself colliding with a honda full of teenage boys. The driver had failed to yeild to on-coming traffic while making a left turn. I was entering the intersection when he turned right in front of me. My foot slammed onto the breaks, and my hand onto the horn, but there was no time to stop. The driver froze like a deer in headlights, and three young faces stared right at me as my car slammed into them. It happened so fast, and yet time seemed to slow. My body tensed as I prepared myself for the inevitable impact which was only confirmed by the thunderous crashing of metal and plastic that followed.
The driver got out of his car and ran over to me to see if I was alright. I felt really irritated. I didn't want to get out of my car. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to see his little brother and their friend stumble out of the car in their movie theatre uniforms looking shocked and drowsy. I just wanted to go back in time and decide to leave a few moments earlier or later to avoid the collision. I looked at the other driver. He looked to be about 17 years old. He was asian, and wore a wooden cross around his neck. He wanted to do the right thing, but he was scared. He asked if he should call the police and said yes. The police told him that if nobody was injured we should just exchange information and go on our ways. I felt incredibly uncomfortable at this suggestion and insisted that he call the police back and request a police report.
It took about an hour for the police man to arrive. In that time I sat in my car, which I had moved out of the intersection and into a nearby parking lot, and watched the young driver stare straight forward, then alternately straight at me. I could tell what he was thinking was something along the lines of "my parents are going to be so pissed..." and "I hope that girl is alright." I honestly felt for him, but was begining to feel for myself. My neck started aching and my whole body was kind of tense and shaky. The initial shock was begining to wear off, and I felt very tired. I just wanted to go home and go to sleep, but I kept waiting.
The wait was excruciating for another reason. I realized that I didn't really have anybody to call.... nobody to come be with me in this moment where the speed at which everything can change had been demonstrated to me, albeit relatively harmlessly. I made several phone calls, but nobody was answering. At last I decided to call my friend Erik in New York.
Erik and I had only met in person twice, but had gotten to know eachother long-distance through many late-night phone conversations. A few months or so ago, I helped talk him out of reinlisting in the military which would have innevitably sent him back to the war that had already claimed several chunks of his neck and chest and perhaps a more sizable chunk of his sanity (not to mention several friends). Since then we had been discussing the possibility of my paying him a visit in New York. He finaly finished his military duty and got a place about twenty miles outside of Manhattan and had started working as a wage slave in some shitty job and making music with his old guitar player from his old project "isolate".
Erik seemed concerned and asked me to call him back when the police interaction was over to let him know how it had gone. I waited till I got home and called him back. It was getting pretty late at this point, but my mind was reeling. There was no way I could have slept, so we talked for hours. We talked about what we would do when I came to visit.... the things I'd like to see, and the places he'd like to show me. We talked about collaborating musicly, and getting some video footage for a documentary project we had discussed previously. As the night wore on, and we imagined spending four days in one anothers company, the conversation became more intimate. Before long I moved into my bedroom and laid down in the dark to continue the conversation. As it started to turn erotic, I noticed my cell battery was dying. I told him I'd call him back when it had charged a bit. By the time it did, we had both gotten ourselves rather worked up. The conversation elevated to.. lets say... steamy, and the battery died again. It went on like this for some time till we had both achieved release. It seemed to be just what I needed to come down from the adreneline buzz from the accident. I went to sleep at last.
The next morning Erik called and woke me up to tell me that he no longer wanted me to come and visit him in New York. I was half asleep and didn't really understand the sudden change, but he uttered something incoherant about my previous relationships with two of his friends. His tone was accusatory, and I suddenly got the feeling that he was a man who was incapable of respecting a woman who is expressive of her sexuality. In this morning after haze, my body was begining to feel the effects of the accident, and I was feeling the sting of betrayal from the one friend I had who was there for me when I had needed him the night before.
I groaned and called my workplace to inform them that I had been in an accident and would be taking the day off to see a doctor.