Monthly Archives: July 2021

My morning porch watch incorporates
a book and a chocolate-brown dog
idling next to my c spring chair.
She always runs out first to do
her morning duties; 
then she joins me as I read.
The sun benevolently warms me
but gets too much for the dog, 
quickly absorbing the heat
beginning to pant. She gets up
and stares into my eyes with her
Murphy-expression saying
eloquently, "Time to eat."

While I was sitting on the porch, reading
under a canopy of maple trees, looking out
at the golf course next door-- I realized
how thankful I am and should be. 

The neighbor with a protruding pot belly 
always comes out and sits by the fence 
with a Labatt Blue in hand.
He is like clockwork, drinking his morning
away until, by evening, he's boisterously
drunk. 

Humans without 
a consciousness of their spiritual roots 
are like brutes awaiting
the razor of reality 
to cut their existence short.

"Maybe it's time we stop trying to outsmart the truth
and let it have its day." --Alfred

Even though we might imagine reality sucks, 
it always has a habit
of leaping up and biting us in the butt. The facts
are not our enemy. If you can't whip them - work with them. 
We can never outrun the truth. When we strive to outwit it,
we only end up opposing ourselves & our best interests.
But be careful of spurious "facts."

Jethro was a bull around bone china,
the racket of smashing followed him.
He never figured out how to move on,
clinging desperately to his broken experiments, 
trying to force the unfeasible to clank along.
At 35, he had had several aborted relationships
that permanently terminated with
emotional and physical mayhem.
He feared abandonment and couldn't
comprehend how his partners could so glibly
disconnect from him without
any necessary protracted drama; his addiction.
So, he felt the urge to harm them,
to pay them back for their ruthless rejection.
Like some dogs who will let you
into the house but snap at you
when you try to leave, be careful of
the Jethros and Jethrenes.

The human condition clips on;
hubris dogs their every step,
everyone neglecting their source.

Love sees
involved invisibly in our regular suffering;
vivifying our very existence, and yet,
ignored by the masses.
No one, it seems, is paying attention,
going their own destructive ways.

When the fact remains;
One is tapping on our heart now, so willing to
recreate us from the inside out. Love
died, resurrected, and reigns. Let it in.

Three hundred fifty years ago, Milton said, 
"Craving is never satisfied." 
Contemporary media perceives this
and leverages it to empty our bank accounts,
to commandeer our bodies,
set the agenda for our opinions,
to titillate our desires until
the appetites enslave us.
Our wills are molded by 2 of the 5 
gates, inundated with the flickering
of looking-glass screens flashing subliminal
messages to eat, eat, eat, or hate or lust 
We are their patsies-- 
reprogrammed every minute.

There is one who took the seven divine powers
and descended to the underworld. There is one
who abandoned the glory of humankind for the greater.
The carpenter was lacerated, bruised, 
crushed, and entombed,
whose aim was to descend to the underworld. 
One calls the people to come to behold the doorway,
to mourn our collective insensibility; 
to see the completed victory over
the netherworld. He bashed down
hell's gate; blasted the prison door--
though the underworld did its utmost
to incarcerate him, the door of life defeated 
the portal of death.
He pulverized the serpentine skull of the jailer.
He set the captives free and came up again
from the depths to become the life-giving vine,
the life-giving water - The one true life--
& the highest name above all--
enthroned.

It's time to give credit to whom credit is due.

Humankind likes to praise itself as if
they could all take a breath
by their own choice - 

or resolutely keep 
the chest pumps pushing
oxygenated blood to the extremities
by an act of their own will.

The autonomic system begs an answer
of which our human science has negligibly
scratched the outer layer.

To deny that there is
a master author is to be deliberately dense
to the fundamental lesson of life on this earth:

To heartily give thanks for all things.

Polls and projections serve as a waste of time.
Outcomes frequently happen outside of the ordained orbit. 
So, stop, simmer down, and settle into the real world.
It is whatever it is-- affirm the moment or flame out.
Today represents the total of opportunity.
Invite yourself in, take it to heart, strike for the gold.
Vitality is available now.
Internalize at the sacred well of the precious present.
To dig in for more agreeable days is the quest of fools.
Your heyday is here. -- Use it.