Divine Intervention

writing a letter

Last night I had dreams of driving a big van
With a full shade over the windshield
And at times I feel lost
As if, yeah, that was really me!
Floating through the atmosphere or
Morning stream-of-mind
But driving forward blind

For divine intervention
To pull me out from under all this
Disappointment and depression
Internal dishonesty is my confession.

What I want is the chance to be real and free
And if I may also have some financial security
And how long can it be
Til I turn away from my screen and see peace within me?

I keep my phone off at night and
Set an alarm in my mind
And because of Facebook deactivation
I rise up and think of a future destination
Keep the waves out of my head and instead
Of looking at who what where and when

I look at NOW
And I feel and write and cry and oh, there’s WHY and HOW
But from my heart hopeful and filled with faith
Extinguishes the fear that debilitates
And keeps my heart frozen
Where it yearns to escape.

There are going to be down times my love
And there will be pain and setbacks
This experience ain’t like the movies
It ain’t a fucking romantic comedy
And don’t go filling your mind with that, child
Because you’ll come out disappointed as fuck on the other side

After you’ve watched the blood drip down your wrist
When you learn that no one fucking shape-shifts
To your wants and perceptions and we ALL HAVE imperfections
So instead of teaching youth the real lessons
We let movies and pop music infuse them with the wrong messages

Our phones are especially toxic
Apps out the ass and so much precious time wasted
But what if tweaking small habits
Really leads to major changes
Should we sit and argue evolution and free will or
Try to fucking prove it?
You think there’s a set fucking plan and we’re just living through it?

NO, I have a choice and I can choose and I do choose and I will live the way that I choose
And I dream of cloudy days in the the Northwest for a season
With no guilt for staying in because the rain will be my reason
And I’m allowed to change my mind and experiment with my body and brain
Live as my own Creator!

For if god indeed does live within me I can conjure It Him Her
Please don’t confine god to a gender, isn’t that an insult?
Change the way you think and imagine and see the future!
Instead of a murky screen of vague ideas and
Floating on forward
You can adjust your power and cultivate the desire to take action
Sounds so fucking hard doesn’t it?

You mean I must exert energy, effort or else it all stays the same?!
Well yes and do you want your idea of your daily
Atmosphere to be a contrived environment that you’ve visited a million times
Don’t stand for anything less
Trust yourself and be careful what you wish
Be patient and kind
And dream and create it first in your mind
And most of all don’t give up
Be intentional
Take your time
This body and life is a gift of mine sent from the divine


Post Your Dreams or They Aren’t Real

I wake again

Forget all my dreams

From last night’s slumber and any future vision

No, now I recall…

I was fighting for my Voice

Turned against by friends because I posted some comments online

That I thought were fine

But these people were offended and running away

Rejecting my efforts to make justifications

And I chased after them to defend my position.

Morning alarm sounds

I hit snooze then stay up and scroll through

Everyone Doing All The Things

Making movies and fashioning sculptures and laser cutting gigantic wooden maps

And 3D printing toys and silversmithing rings and I have no skills

At least that’s how it feels

They’re dancing on beaches and surfing waves and shouting out from tropical hotel rooms

I unplug my brain from the array of

Everyone Doing Bigger and Better Things Than I Am

And remember that grass is greener

Because we still carry our souls wherever we go

And pour them into what we create and how we move and speak.

I roll out my yoga mat and don’t set up a camera

I practice crow pose and hold it for 20 seconds this time and no one will know

I create a beautiful nourishing meal that no one will see

My phone lays out of view solitarily

I put on cute clothes but before this I look at myself in the mirror and notice that

My butt looks decent today and I think I see some results of good diet and exercise

I go for a walk through trees and grass and breeze and skies and gravestones

But this all remains my little secret

It’s real and valid even if only my eyes can see it

But an urge to post still pokes at me

Now the screen and camera lens coated in showmanship and braggery

Cries for other eyes to view me as I’m viewing myself

Proud, progressing and confident

But does posting publicly add a new destructive element created by technology?

Of satisfying a nagging need for approval

A contrived unit of measuring worth

Comparing how I see myself versus how They see me

What long-term good can this external projection be

It’s a fleeting high

And when it wears off we must go chasing again

The next round of likes, approvals and validations

Does it steal a bit of our heart and soul and body and mind

Or do we give it away willingly as obliged by

This digital prison that from the outside

Seems so damn free?