Allegory of the Cave

I’ve been thinking a lot of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave recently.
Imagine prisoners tide up side by side in darkness placed in front of a blank stone wall. The prisoners can turn their heads nor move so that they can’t see one another. Behind them there is a fire and the captors have people walking in front of the fire with puppets so that it casts a shadow upon the wall the prisoners stare at. Any sounds and talk, these prisoners believe come from the shadows in the wall. This is the reality they live in and they have no knowledge of people or the captors behind them.
One day they are set free and have to crawl through a narrow tunnel to an opening into the outer world. When first reaching the outside they see the light of the sun and it’s blaring and painful because they’ve only known darkness their whole life. It hurts their eyes and burn their skin, so they retreat back into the comfort of their darkness into the only reality they’ve known their whole life, not understanding it’s been an illusion.
However a few realize there is something more outside and decide to go back into the light. Over time their eyes adjust and the sun feels good. They realize in that moment that the shadows they thought were real were only replications of what is real under the sun while some stay in the darkness, those who go outside can finally live free.
What I believe is the reality can hurt when you live in the comfort of illusion for so long, but eventually the light of reality is the only way to live a life beautiful and free.

allegoryofthecave #plato #reality #illusions #freedom #justiceforahmaudarbery

Broken Arrow

I shot down each of my demons

And One by one laid clear my path,

I pulled one with the fletching torn,

As i stood face to face with a monstrous beast.

Without my arms I trembled

Eyes closed and cold sweat crawling zig zags down my cheek.

I died a hundred deaths before I opened my eyes

and saw before me

The beast quivering

eyes closed and beads of sweat.

I touched its shoulder

And the Eyes fluttered Open

My own eyes staring back

Holding a Broken arrow.

I died one hundred deaths

Before I opened my eyes.

Sagittarian Mama, Aquarian Child

Lying in bed with my 3 year old he says, “mommy because….. I love you forever.”

“You know what forever means?”

“Yeah because you’re always with me.”

“I love you forever and ever and ever.” But as I speak I think, well there’s a chance by circumstance I won’t be here forever, realistically thinking. “But Baby, what if I’m not here forever? What if maybe I am sent away one day?”

He stares into my eyes silent for some time. I stare back.

“Well then I will fly up and catch you. Yeah I will fly up and catch you and bring you back down so you will be with me forever.” He speaks with conviction.

“I love you baby Forever and ever!”

Making Rainbows 

The storm came violently tearing through 

Ripping roots and smashing structures. 

My temple, once safe and trusted,

Failing me and slowly desecrating its disease into my heaven. 

The storm flurried with the beat of my erratic heart. 

Pushing me up and down until I found myself at the edge of a cliff facing what I thought could be the end. 

And at its peak, with majestic trees falling and sacred structures burning to return once again to the soil, 

I realized that I am not afraid and I sat down on that edge,

The storm moved into the eye and it became silent,

At the center of destruction

Everything became clear,

And I was offered peace in the knowledge that I am not afraid to take that leap, although a little sad to leave the temple I love. 

I laid still, eyes wide open, staring into the open sky,

Arms spread wide,

Legs spread wide,

As if making snow angles in soot and ash,

Smiling and lifting my belly to make rainbows,

Right in the center of the storm. 
It passed,

And I did not fall,

But my body, a rainbow, stretched itself across the sky,

Married with the destruction beneath,

Hideously beautiful. 

The Last Birthday Party

What if everything we work towards is planning our whole life for the end game. Each persons death is the final birthday party and so we make decisions to create or last birthday party. We live each year planning how intimate or how grand the ceremony will be. Whether we want a lover, children, dogs, friends… 

We would be living our life towards welcoming the last journey on earth and that is hope towards a new adventure as cycles on earth go. 

How much peace and love a world would have if the whole world spent each day living, working, dreaming, and manifesting that great birthday party. We would dance into the darkness to move into the purest, brightest light. 

Scars

  
Happy birthday Debbie!

You know I’ve been talking to you a lot lately. Most of the times I miss you but sometimes I’m still mad. 

I know when people pass, everyone remembers all the good things and how sweet and great a person was,

But you know me, and I know you and we would have been like “blah”. 

Even with morning breath, you’d roll on top of me, slip a spliff in my mouth and say “smoke this bitch” all before I opened my eyes. And then we’d go somewhere like Vegas with a total of $7 dollars in change between the two of us on a whim that we could win and be rich and retire young. 

And I could be annoyed at you and you could be annoyed at me, and we’d still hang out all day, call each other and end up laughing all night. 

That’s what I miss most. That realness you know? 

So this Christmas when I found myself missing you the most, I stayed mad at you because if anyone in this world understood that, it would be you, and you’d be laughing at me about it and i would tell you it’s because I loved you anyway. 

Well I love you anyway, and the missing you part doesn’t ever change and it still hurts sometimes so I’ll stay mad sometimes. 

Ps remember when you told me years before anything happened that you were dying and I responded “we are all dying a little each day since the day we were born,” sorry I was an a$$hole too. @Debbie somewhere in paradise. 

Virginity 

  
When grandma passed away,

I wrote her a poem because it’s the only way I could communicate with her. 

It was a silly childish poem, but I remember thanking her because up until her death I was afraid of it. 

She used to ask me to come into her room and would show me a box she wanted me to take out from her closet when she died. 

That was 25 years before she actually passed. 

So I wrote to her because I didn’t know where to find the box anymore. 

I always wondered what was in that box. 

I went to the beach to burn the poem so I could send it up to her, but it was so windy I couldn’t  get the paper to ignite. 

Three guys were sitting around their own blazing bonfire and I asked them if I could burn a poem I wrote for grandma who had just passed. 

They asked me to read it to them. 

That must have been the most intimate moment I’ve ever had with three men at one time. 

I lit a cigarette and walked away alone to have a beer by myself. 

That was a night of many firsts. 

Song



My grandma sang songs each waking day till the moon loomed over our house. 

And she  danced to her own rhythm 

Each morning I would hear her chirp her melody as if it was spring all year round in our house. 

But one spring she grew quiet and  forgot who I was, and forgot who she was, and her magic seemed to fade and I would always take a deep breath before going to see her and leave feeling guilty for not wanting to stay. 

She stayed silent a lot longer than anyone expected her to, 

But she was waiting for people to come and sing to her. 

And when they did, she cried tears that had dried up years ago 

And her skin turned white and she  flew away to her love like a dove at dusk. 

Now I only see her when I lift the veil to that place where only the moon shines, but she’s still dancing and singing and telling me to sing my song too!

Dedicated to Halmuhnee 

A Nutcase’s Close Call

Finally sitting down in the still of the night where I can listen to the hum

Or buzz and hollow winds,

To soak in the emotional chaos of the day.

Sick for the first time in years,

I went into panic and prayed most of the day,

Making Plea’s with God as to why i’m not ready to go yet,

Rather over dramatically,

Thinking of all the projects,

The art,

The creations,

The life that I’m still in the middle of which is nearing it’s integration.

The throbbing in my head and feeling that death was near,

Though it turns out it seems to be a sinus infection,

The revelations, even if death is not what it was,

Force us to see life in all it’s frailty and glory.

Honesty spills forth as a remedy because who wants to leave with unsaid words?

It will only make more work as spirits visiting those we have yet to be finished with.

Speaking all day to people in the past and future, miles and spaces away.

Teaching everything I know to my son just in case,

Even how to emergency contact the right people on my phone “Just in case”.

And now I chuckle because I am admitting that I can get a little crazy.

Worrisome and stressed.

Not always walking with grin

But humbled and chagrined.

And I am enjoying the silence.

The settling of the night that stirs with a slight sigh

Soothing away all that took place in that vast space in my head

That I can only compare to with the way I feel when gazing up

Towards an unobstructed blue sky.

And my biggest regret today is that I have yet to dip my feet into the ocean

On my Yoga classes on the beach

Because I keep myself so busy with running around trying to save someone

Or maybe it’s something I’m trying to save,

Like the dream of a little girl

Listening to stories of oysters being thrown back into the sea

To be saved so they can create beautiful pearls

That shimmer and sparkle to the eye.

But it was a most remarkable day,

I spoke with a friend who decided to transcend to the unfamiliar beyond

And it felt like the “sweet sorrow” of onions that has you crying with smiles.

The light of the world is bright and I am alive.

God bless everyone!

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What more is the point other than coming upon this earth in order to leave with it your fragrant perfume that stirs nostalgia like the paste from elementary school classrooms. I started out today with this beautiful image in my mind of imprints of my footsteps being fossilized into words. The thread read, “Fossilization of spoken steps towards immortalizing essence.” Because the whole point for me has been to figure out immortality. Not in the physical sense, but more in the “I was here, I make my imprint, and remember me dear earth.” way.
Driving to my jobs along the coast, I pictured myself carrying morsels of peace in my pocket fumbling around the darkness as I tramped with bounce by chance that some of these pieces may fall and nestle warm into the sand and some unsuspecting stroller would trip over it laughing along the fall with the swish of the waves. And in the distance somewhere, I spread my arms, I spread my fingers, I spread myself like wings to the gentle, yet invigorating kisses that spray from mother’s kisses and her sweet scent sweeping over hungry senses.

And I begin the evening humbled and with an abundance of gratitude because I had the chance to hear Alan Watts tell me, I am only whole if I die and my existence in light and in darkness is the same. I accept my mortality and will still strive to live the same because nothing has changed except I know one absolute truth. What more is there to know, and what more can be beautiful but the whole experience.

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