rolling with it

Greetings Lucile — as a writer I know what it is to be “fed up with the subjects.” 😉

When that happens I do as (no doubt) you do also — write off the top of my head — let the metaphors fall where they may. heheheh.

I once was engaged in a writing group called “Diving Deeper” and we use to practice by just writing our “stream of consciousness” with no editing, no self-censorship and allowing the images and metaphors to simply arrange themselves. Its very much like jazz improvisation — and we were always amazed at ourselves and each other also as to the incredibly coherent and sometimes very meaningful and poignant communications which seem to spontaneously arise.

Perhaps it was like channeling our sub-conscious? Actually — sometimes it took a lot of guts.

You spoke of your being mad at an oil spill. No kidding.

The BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico a few years back and the catastrophic vandalism and poisoning by BP and our criminal government absolutely sickened me to the point of a near emotional breakdown. I cried and cried and yelled and tore my clothes in frustration at such unbelievable and monstrous disregard for all Life and the dear people who had worked and fished and appreciated the abundance of the Gulf of Mexico for many many generations.

Anyway — I got over flopping like a fish out of water and transduced that trauma into a greater appreciation and respect for ALL Life, People, our Mother Ocean and all her precious creatures.

I do know that the tyrants of our world have consciously, willfully and very much ON PURPOSE long suppressed inventions that would have meant (even 100 years ago) the END of OIl, Gas and Coal and Fission and even Solar and Wind as energy sources. These oil spills are completely UNNECESSARY. Energy is one of the primary methods of keeping the peoples of this world ENSLAVED to mind-less, brutal tyranny.

Nikola Tesla and many others since then have shown the Universe itself to be infinite energy and intelligence.

One thing that helped me to heal during that time was a poem I wrote.

I share it with you now. 🙂

“Friday, May 21, 2010
Galveston
I remember your wind blown face. The wooden dock, weather worn by many years of salten sea, sometimes the wild surf lapping over the pier. It was gray with misty rain. The smell of baked red snapper mingled with sunbaked intestines and fisheries.
And in my dream there you are my darling-one to rush together in happiness, the embrace, we kiss for the first time and I melt in the blowing rain.
My heart is broken now.
When I was eight, I saw the ocean for the first time. I never knew before what big truly was–seaweed at my feet, the primal pull. Watch that undertow my Mother said. What’s that clinging to the seaweed? Oil from the ships, mama winced…careless ships.
I came down with double pneumonia that time and after that, asthma ensued for many years. Emotional, the doctor said, a botched circumcision done too early.
And later on at fifteen, I was there for music. Our group of boys exploring the beach and piers one night entranced by African rhythms from the wild black man making twenty gallon oil drums come alive.
Time has never been the same.
And today, the projectile black vomit of Gaia blood, mile-down volcano of spewing darkness and death comes to all.
So, all the fishermen, shrimp boats, oyster-lover’s restaurants, bells clinging on waves of black tar, stench of diesel cloak and rust of old despairing ships drown in the sea of tar. Like sabre tooth cats and mastodons wallowing in terror through thick black ink, the sucking doom of our greed. Storks and pelicans and gulls cry across the gulf and, on the wind, whalesong shrieks into the night.
Goodbye my happy dolphin.”

There are many ways to heal ourselves . . . and others. 🙂 Christ is the highest and best of what we are — we are all here for a higher purpose which is far beyond our wildest imagination.

namaste,

Roy