This was an especially tough holy week in the US- so much misery and unrest especially surrounding gun violence. I was moved by the two black men and one white woman in TN house and all those they represent and the young people gathered in the state capitol demanding common sense changes to our laws. Yet what struck me the most were the faces of the republicans who in lock step expelled the two black representatives, an obvious demeaning dismissal of them along racial and political lines. This was another inflection point for our nation and with it, some good trouble that may have unintended consequences for the Republicans.
This week, a holy one
Where fiery images on TV blare
and legislative bills shoot with rapid fire aim,
locked and loaded
state by state
outrageously searching for answers
to nonexistent problems,
stripping away the rights of those
with more to lose
and with it ripping apart the very fabric of
A festering unease turns to unrest
until it boils over
The Tennessee 3
Walk into the well, one by one
Pleading their case for who?
For the very right to exist?
With a target on their backs
They carry a message that embodies
A cacophony of screams
from the collective that sent them there
an echo begging to heard
the true will of the people.
Let us go!
Let us be free from these chains
of modern-day slavery
from the shackles of inequity,
of fear, confusion and complacency
hog-tied by the dark monies gathered in the belly of the NRA
and wrapped in the shadows of inherent racism
that no longer lay dormant
Oh no, those old ghosts surely rise again
sheets now removed
these white men and women
blind faith in their own purity flowing in their veins
for centuries now
they listen with scant toleration
on deaf ears
their judgement already sealed.
But now a chanting beat
can no longer be ignored
younger generations, crying for change
Weary of years cowering under desks
Begging to be seen
an unwilling army forced to the front lines
No more thoughts and no more prayers,
They’ve had enough this blasphemy!
Their roaring grows louder
No more sacrificial lambs
A symphonic demand for a release
from these insane and arcane
systems of bondage
will no longer stand.
On this holy weekend that marks Easter,
It should not be lost on us all
what Jesus and his disciples
Knew to be
That after death,
The promise of rebirth anew
So roll that old stone away
And unveil the truth
Let us break through to a new state of enlightenment
for if we have any hope
to survive, thrive and
live in peace as we were created to be
The time for rising is now.
PART ONE: Confession
I have a confession.
In that empty week between Christmas and NYE,
when everyone’s in a holidaze hangover,
With nothing to do but wait for the ball to drop.
I, couch bound,
with a belly full of leftover cheese and sweets,
spend countless hours
doom scrolling through my socials
with each flick of my right thumb
hurtling down a digital black hole
of those never-ending, dreaded
psychic predictions for the new year.
What am I hoping to find, you ask?
I’m not sure,
but desperate I become in this addictive pursuit.
Through the hundreds of Tik Tok Miss Cleo’s,
Wheel-of-fortune tellers, self-professed astrologers
and keyboard Nostradamus experts
(with 20% accuracy)
for some glimmer of hope.
Maybe a prophetic promise
or just a little optimistic fix
to renew my faith that maybe
this year, this world
will globally, politically, spiritually, economically
PART TWO: Predictions
Now, with growing frustration and cynicism,
it is clear to see,
I'm not alone in my need to know, but
are the answers really in the Cosmos
or right here within me?
We hear the word "manifestation" a lot these days,
and it's become annoying-
just another thing to add to our long to-do lists.
Yet this year, my gut tells me
it may be the only way
to predict what will happen to me.
So, here I write
my own manifesto of predictions for 2023
knowing I cannot control the fate of the universe,
Yet I can envision my own to some degree.
There is a certain vulnerability I feel in sharing this list, but as the saying goes, best laid plans. The same can be said for new year’s resolutions. However, mine are predictions, neither resolute nor 100% accurate. They are my own hopes for my future journey in 2023. I have a few more but they are more personal and best kept within. What will happen across the world this year is anyone’s guess, but maybe if we all focus on personal pursuits to spread joy within ourselves and others, we can collectively manifest a world where love and peace reign. They say I’m a dreamer…. 😉
What are your dreams, prayers or predictions for 2023?
Last week, I spent 5 days alone- the husband and girls off on their own paths, and it was glorious. During this week stars aligned and on three different occasions, spontaneous gatherings with special women in my life happened. They say things happen in threes, and that it can be very powerful. I would agree...
It is not lost on me
The power of three
In three special moments last week
It occurred to me
I was intuitively called
With these special three
A rectilinear connection
symbolically drawn together
across a divine feast.
The lines between us unseen
yet perfectly aligned
Bubbles in hand
We raised a glass
A perfect trio
Magnetic in its exchange of mind and spirit
Where safe disclosures were made,
Recent triumphs celebrated
And quiet worries consoled.
A moment in time so precious
Calming rain shower
Or the bustling of restaurant chatter
Or a late summer breeze wrestling in the trees overhead
Could break the spell
Of this beautiful coven
of the divine feminine,
its mystique truly fulfilled
It is not lost on me that
Sometimes the ties that bind weaken
But those that continue their triangular pull
That serve to uplift our souls
and fill our hearts
Those are meant to complete us
A bond only three
Can truly be.
Thoughts on why we continue to accept societal norms and systems that no longer serve us whether it be personal (careers, relationships) or as a society (governmental, economic and belief systems). Maybe a cheesy train metaphor that runs on and on will help you envision a better future. This is still pretty rough and needs major editing/shortening, but you'll get the drift.
When a train jumps the tracks
It's either seen as a
pre-programmed switch point
What the difference really comes down to
is who’s driving the train.
Much is the same in how we conduct
The path we’re on in life-
The relationships we have,
The places we live or travel to,
The habits we keep,
The careers we choose to endure.
The trains of today are most often run by computers.
Apparently that takes the pressure off the drivers-
allows them not really have to critically think
Or consider the impact
Of the path they're on
If the driver falls asleep,
Supposedly the computer ensures
Yet in reality it might be
That if there’s a glitch in the system,
Or dangerous conditions ahead warrant a change in course,
or a manual redirection, if you will,
The train driver’s only way to self-preservation
to avoid collision or disaster is
to override the system.
What the difference really comes down to is whether the driver is willing to consider and opt for another outcome.
I’ve noticed this happening within the minds
and lives of many people lately.
For years, they've been going through the motions,
traveling through time,
no questions or commotion coming
from their engine or the caboose.
Perhaps it’s the sudden realization
That soon they’ll be out of tracks.
Maybe when they really look out those train windows,
and truly grasp the myriad of possible points with which they could've
taken a different path,
grasped the places, people and experiences
passed by, lost and left behind
before they hit
their last stop.
Those reading this might even think
this silly little train metaphor
is about them
(and it could be),
But it’s really about a collective awakening,
A conscious unapologetic unacceptance,
A rejection of ruling foundations
that no longer serve
soothe the soul.
And isn’t it thrilling to imagine
where it all could lead?
If we stopped worrying
or being imprisoned by the fear
Of ditching the well-worn trail,
And instead hit the switch point,
the pull lever back and instead
clear a new path
of most resistance?
What the difference might be is how bad the driver wants to hit the brakes to save himself.
We're at a cross-roads now,
Both at the soul level and as a society.
As the maddening drone of the same churning wheels turn,
Making the same calculated squeaky stops
And passing the same dull ineffective scenes play over again
along the way,
What humanity aches for most in this life, in this world
Is a new approach.
grabbing the wheel, pulling the levers and screaming
STOP- I want to get off!
Stepping off the platform now,
waving goodbye as the wind rushes up
and a blaring horn sounds,
jarring from behind,
as a new train pulls into the station.
A momentary ache of nostalgia
as one looks back, some stay on and some will
join to catch a final glimpse of the past
as the familiar fades
and an anxious exhilaration sets in.
Fresh breath of freedom fills the lungs
As they board the next train
switching directions in real time,
upward and onward they go.
So, what's the difference for you,
Who’s driving your train?
Are you ready to get off
Or are you one of the ones
still asleep at the switch?
Thoughts on a lovely college reunion of friends on beautiful Lake Charlotte in Buffalo, Minnesota.
A much-needed respite,
four years in the making
a precious weekend away
Where heavy hearts were lifted
By a reunion of dear old friends.
In an unexpected return
to a bubble of solace,
A place where even as the years pass,
So easily we boomerang back to
that easy "pick-up-where-we-left-off” effortless banter.
Reminiscing over vodka seltzers
and glasses of Rose on a quiet candlelit screened porch
we safely shared under a starry Minnesota night's sky,
the state of our unions,
our families, both human (and canine),
of competing age-related ailments and
embarrassing bathroom calamities,
worries over politics and crepey skin,
tearful recollections of parental losses
and how unwittingly we’ve managed
to become in so many ways
just like them.
And in the morning, a new game learned
yet not nearly mastered.
80s tunes in the distance,
a young buck in mirrored sunglasses with pock marked skin
Taught some old broads a few new tricks.
On a pickleball court,
the latest fad
Antics and laughter ensued,
a sweaty back smile
air guitars jamming on rackets
And soon we became
With every familiar giggle, snort and high five
Reminders of what will never change
and what matter most
What the stretch of time and age
and life's tribulations can never steal
A golden group
Cradled in the calming, warm afternoon waters of Lake Charlotte
We float on,
Of friendships divine
And spirits renewed.
Thoughts in response to the Highland Park mass shooting on July 4th, 2022, and on mass shootings in general.
The morning after
He ascended the ladder
And pulled the trigger of his own destiny,
We focused on the guns
And the guns
Others criticized the madman’s use of
The Pills used to curb the anxiety,
Qualm the urge to kill
For a young white man who had every privilege
Yet didn’t work
Rapped into the digital vortex
Wanting to be heard
Wanting to matter to someone,
Yet who was really listening?
A follow, a like, a click
Is no substitute for human interaction.
Big Tech, Big Pharma, Big nothing but keeping us
Sick, disengaged, unfulfilled
An artificial substitute for what all humans really need
To be seen, heard, valued,
It’s a bitter pill to swallow
To know this scene will play out again
Is there no end, no bottom, no bloody red line?
Or are these dark forces of hate, inaction and deceit beckoning us
Enticing us until we all pick up arms and turn on each other?
The spraying of bullets
Is a coward’s lazy way to make a problem disappear
But the harder road to take would be to
Unplug from it all.
To re-engage in our humanity
Re-establish our rights to protect our precious minds.
To be at peace with simple pleasures unseen,
Enjoy human to human connection without the barrier
Of a screen
The constant drone of a digital Judge and Jury
Telling us who to fear, who to hate
And in the end
maybe the ultimate destruction
Will be everything we think we are afraid of losing-
our families, our faith, our wealth,
When the last shot is fired,
And the last pill swallowed
When it all goes black
Will our last moment of consciousness ponder
Whether the guns, the likes, the fame, the money, the retribution-
Was that the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness we were promised?
Thoughts on our current state of political discourse in the United States.
When the dust settles,
And the history books are written.
If those that remain,
can look back through a clearer lens
where will they see you stood
at this moment?
Were you the one praying for change,
or hoping for justice?
Was it yourself or for all,
For the earth or for your children
For the country or
was it only for those who shared
your world view,
or the color of your skin?
Were your convictions rooted in righteousness,
keeping the peace,
in passive indifference
or in making another suffer?
Where were you
When the hungry needed fed,
the sick needed healing,
When the other needed your compassion?
Were you the one we see with the bullhorn-
Shouting yet not hearing,
Believing yet not seeing?
Or were you the one quiet and unseen,
Lending a kind hand,
Trying to steady the storms around you.
Where were you when it all came apart,
When the flag fell
and the crosses burned,
when the fraying fragments of our freedoms
and desecrated on the steps of state capitols
who fueled the great fire of our demise.
Were you busy ripping the stitches,
Letting the edges burn with the embers of your anger?
Or were you the one frantically trying to calm the flames,
Patch the tears and
reinforce the seams
Of our once great democracy?
Ask yourself now,
Where were you?