Headed for Hell with the Kids in the Trunk

This is an old rant that I recently uncovered (amazing what cleaning off a table will do). I remember deciding the expulsion of Phonics from mainstream education was the "All Aboard!" call, as we scramble to save seats in the handbasket.

Forgive the lack of coherence, it was scribbled on both sides of an unopened envelope - huh, looks like it was a bill...

We stopped teaching them how to think.
And then picked that very moment to stuff their heads
with television's 30-second solutions.
We decided phonics wasnt important, so now they cant read -
How can you if youve never SEEN the word before?
And since the entire school system is based on reading,
learning is not enjoyable. 'Cause it's hard.
BUT - the hunger for new things (knowledge) doesnt stop.
So they get their kicks with street math, and guess what else.
Push 'em in a stall, and pay the caregiver a stable-hand's wage.
Then have the gall to wonder why they dont give a damn.
About anything.
We have failed our children miserably,
systematically,
sold them to whatever corporation put in the highest bid.
The "investor" that promised a deal
sweet enough to sell everyone's soul at once.

There is hope.

Not from They, I'm afraid.
Though Their actions will be Their demise.
Saturation proves true in more topics
than chemistry and economics.
And some hearts will prove stronger
than the attack on our minds.

**Here the envelope runs out, but please continue Responders - this is Cyberspace :)

I am Thankful

At the edge of the Earth,
Home of three angels -
Water, Sun, and Wind -
I open my body to them
as I sit to give thanks
for sight, for sound, for touch
of Grace.

Winter Walamelons

Imagine my surprise, looking over the front porch rail, A Patch of Walamelons!



Growing in the sand!

In November! Life finds a way...

Be still, my Gut, which screams: I am Found!

Copied from a post on the "Lost and Found Rainbow Family" MSNGroup:

It is not blood that makes an Native American...

It is the soul...

Too many - with fire of Native blood - walk ignored.

Do not say I am Apache or Kickapoo.

Do not say I am Sioux or Cherokee.

Say... I am of the Mother Tribe.

This is the pain of our children...

To return from the stars without a home or community...

A tribe lost returns - scattered in the wind.

Those who hear must unite and reap the seed of this return.

ONE tribe...ONE Earth...ONE Heart...ONE People.

Those with ears must build a fire and give thanks this night.

Be united with ONE soul.

Oh, my Children come home...

Teachers step forward without fear... You are real.

Earth to Earth's Ungrateful Inhabitants

If nobody saw "Earth to America" last night - it was pretty good. (comedy special to promote awareness of global warming) Go to www.stopglobalwarming.org and sign your name to the virtual march on Washington. And learn what we can do as individuals to stem this tide...

Salvation and a Slaw Dog

Sunday was my date with G. It rained. It rained really really hard at some points...so, no dice. (There is no such thing as global warming.) I didnt even call Willie, and surprise! he didnt call me. There is progress, just imperceptable.


Sunday being a day of recovery and reflection, I remembered something I wanted to share.

On my way home from the uplifting week I had in St. Augustine, I was thinking of a leisurely trip rather than same-ole-I-10. I was also searching for a pack of papers, couldnt remember where I put them. Maybe there was a good song on the radio, dunno, but I missed the exit for 295. Here I go through Jacksonville. I get off at Baymeadows, I get off at University - I believe I stopped at two stores per exit - Nobody sells papers. Is this a new thing? Blunt lobbyists putting on the squeeze or what? 'Cause it cannot be an herb crackdown - they are still selling blunts, singles, packs, new flavors even. I check out a map in one of these affected stores.

I decided to take Highway-90 home. I have to travel a little way on I-10, but I get off at Olustee. I pull into the store at the exit. I am distanced from city politics, and certainly Someone in Olustee still rolls his own...

No. No papers. but check what happened.

Mind you, I am floating on a natural high. Not even really needing the joint, just what I do, so I was making conventional road trip preparations. I cannot be brought low this day, my feet merely brush the pavement, my head - though fully connected - seems to hover in the upper atmosphere so that the perspective through which I am experiencing the world is an etherial one, my chest expands beyond my body with each breath as if supplying many more than I with air. i am encased in a calm that has no edges, no weight, no time.

I walk in the unassuming store, pretty podunk, passing no judgment. I ask for papers and an Asian woman (I cannot distinguish, being ingorant of the continent's cultures) says,
"No. No papers" and "Would you like to say this?" All in 3/4 of one second.

She was motioning to a clear plastic letter-sized stand-alone frame on the counter. To it was taped a handwritten message. As the question was more a directive than a request, I begin to repeat after her, each word, each time. (If you are participating too, the "g" is a hard sound)

Nam myo ho ren ge kyo.
Nam myo ho ren ge kyo.
Nam myo ho ren ge kyo.

She reads my mind "asking" me if I would like her to write it down for me, though she is already writing. As she does so I read the description of the prayer or chant I have just learned. Of course I dont remember what it said - except Happiness, and understanding the worth of life - your life, all life.

In a convenience store in Olustee. okay. why question?

then i drove away with mind wandering and speedometer climing. I pass a YellowJacket and he yokes it. Lovely. My mood is such that not even this disturbs me. The bushes begin to wave and rustle. I remember Kerri saying how much the plants love us, and I imagine them waving a smoke signal to the energies on my behalf. I clear my mind, then imagine love and compassion evaporating from my pores. I ask nothing, for I was speeding, and continue to concentrate on compassion.

He's back there for a really long time. He approaches and says,
"You have a pretty horrendous driving record."
Wounded, I say,
"I was doing pretty good for a while...!"
"Yes, and that is why I am giving you an $85 ticket instead of one for $269."
"Thank you, sir."
"Slow it down now."
"Yes sir."

Anybody curious or inclined to research, let me know if you find/know anything about the prayer - origin, exact translation. I can tell you, that when I speak it aloud, by the third, my body is calm, my heart is light, my mind is humble.

And this, friends, is only one of those pieces that fell and fit the emerging picture that I spoke of in the first post.
Heaven awaits at the Suwannee Swifty.

A 12-Pack in Each Empty Hand

Soooo, had to come down from Mount Olympus last week. Thought I'd pick up the RV - since he's been waiting for me since MARCH. Scooped up a friend, 'cause driving the G-Masheen and my car simultaneously would have been tricky. Stopped on the way to pick up a case of beer, 'cause Willie likes beer, and he's been babysittin for some months now.

Get to Willie's, and fall in love again. Dont know what it is about this Heap, but we have a connection. Friend says, "Are you hugging the truck?" "NO!" I says, I whisper "yes." Unfortunately, G wasnt ready to come with me. Friend got him started, but he wouldnt stay cranked (i think "crunk" is the wrong form here).

"This thing here on the carburator (whatever) should close, like this. And it's so stuck, that wouldnt happen in a few months."

Suspicion, tears us apart...I'm thinking Willie jacked my carburator (whatever) and stuck it on the other RV he's got sitting in the back. I try to stay upbeat, G is helping 'cause he's so cute. And suspicion just cant bring good things.

So I call up Willie, he doesnt answer. And as I'm waiting for the voice mail to kick on, I'm mustering my best we're-still-friendly-but-dont-fck-with-me voice. I say,

"Willay - tried to get the camper today. wouldnt stay cranked. my buddy says its the carburator (whatever), or maybe the fuel pump. I left you a case of beer, help me out."

Willie doesnt call back. (You are beginning to understand why this process has taken 8 months) Yesterday, I call Willie. (You may meet Willie on your travels - he drives a cab here in town. If you gotta squint to understand him, and he walks with a limp - thats Willie.) I say,

"Willay - what's the word?"
"mgasldkjmfakljfmgmgjjrm"
"Say that again?"
"I got a carburator (whatever), but I aint cranked it up yet 'cause I aint put it on. You can be here this weekend?"
"I'm here this weekend. I can come by - call me when youre ready."
"That carburator (?) cost me $50, now."
"All right. call me."

So G and I have a chaperoned date this weekend. Im going to try to remember the camera.

Marlon Called

White Wakulla Marlon wants to trade me a Mustang for the G-Masheen. Whats the vote? Continue the dream or sell out with a quickness...

Inside the Green

All the electric stuff works - miraculously. Though I think the gas stove parts need help. Frige too - whoohoo!

its a shoilet!!

You never count your money when youre sittin at the table...

This is the back. Guess the previous owners didnt do the sleep thing. Ideas for bunk layout?

Breaking Story

The Earth broke down on the freeway this morning.
It didnt make the news.

Boss declined to buy the excuse -

People habitually late for work
wont survive on severance pay.

Pics of the Green Masheen

check him out dude :)





from the saaaahd (twice, because I'm challenged)




take a seat - note the O-riginal fabric




(sorry - part two to come, more pics but no time)

Kingdom Within

Those of you who know me, know a few things...

One of them - Queen Procrastination. Notice it was April when the blog was created, it is Novemeber at the first post. I started the blog to chronicle the transformation of the '84 Dodge beast I bought. It's still sitting in the dude's yard (the dude I bought it from)...stay tuned for pics - I actually have a few.

Another: long-winded, beat-around-the-bush, take-50-words-to-say-yes-or-no, a little fruity, idealistic, sappy, etc. (A third would be clumsy, as I had to pause to drain the water I just spilled on the keyboard.)

This second item relates to the subject of this post. I had to preface what I'm about to say with acknowledgment of my tendancies and the statement: this aint just smoke and ashes.

I have recently returned from a soul-saving "vacation" down the road (St. Augustine). Kerri the Midwife lives there, and somehow I knew whatever would happen would be what I needed. And it was. I left with a lighter spirit, softer step, gentler voice. And though the feeling lasted only a day or two, I think I know how to get it back.

Meditation. I am going to learn to quiet my grasping mind and dispell my ego. So many things fell into place these past few weeks - the universe aligned to make the evidence undeniable. I have chosen a path. And so far removed from theories I held, so kindred to rules of my experience, this is the way to Truth. To silence distractions, to release attachments, to work hard enough to not have to return to a body - I dont know much yet, and I know it sounds fruity, but Compassion is our true nature, and we do build positive and negative karma, and there is a true-self we deny everyday. I'm going to find it.