Sunday, February 23, 2014

Light and dark

Every dark thing one falls into can be called an initiation. To be initiated into a thing, means to go into it. The 1st step is generally falling into a dark place and usually appears in a dubious or negative form. Falling into something or being possessed by something. The shamans say that to begin medicine, is to begin by falling into the power of the demons. To embrace them. The one who pulls you out of the dark place becomes the medicine. The one who stays in this is the sick person. You can take every illness; psychological and physical as  initiation. Even the worst things you fall into are an effort at initiation;  for you are in something that belongs to you, and now you must get out of it.  

The unknown... what we fear is inside us, and we quarrel in our minds about the significance of it's existence. We know that it is there, but we do not always understand why, and maybe we won't. Maybe it is there for us to know that it is a part of us, like breath. It just is. Maybe there is not an "answer" in the human sense. 

What we face is larger than we can comprehend in the narrow corridors of our minds. It is beyond this.  We are conditioned to not see past what is right in front of us, and to continue in a cycle of un growth. The ones who truly make it past this darkness, are unique in their thinking. They strive to be more reflective, and more enlightened. They question, everything; and that is good. That is when they find the light in that darkness, and embrace it along with the dark. 

Seeing past it, does not seem to be the answer, embracing both, the light, and dark, the demons and angels, only then do we truly learn who we are and possibly why we are where we are at in life. 

This is where we "get out" and start to heal. Nursing the demons, and encouraging the angels. Light and dark. We are both. 

Sunday, February 9, 2014


I am not a graceful person.  Not Saturday morning,  or Friday night sunsets. I'm like 3 am gunshots, muffled in the distance.... 

I'm a frozen window in winter, my soul cracking nightly; I fall from elegance and  apologize for my sadness. 

Most times, I believe I do not fit... not with other people. Any people... lost, lonely, but not alone. Always with my thoughts. My thoughts, always with me. 

I belong to the years that are no longer... the way light and dark, mix beneath my skin... they become a storm. 

You never see the lighting, but hear crackle. Then the boom... Flashes in the night, drifting across the midnight sky. 

Like I drift across life.. wandering like an echo in you're mind. How do you see me? When looking through you're eyes, do you see the clumsiness? The stumbling along the way... 

Is this why my wretchedness are echoed in your eyes..... 

Saturday, February 8, 2014


In the corridors of my mind, I am wandering.... passing closed door's.. it's dark, and I can barely see the outlines, the shapes of things to come. 

As I pass a doorway, I pause... wondering what is behind it. Curious, I open it slowly; what unfolds before me is a scene from my past... 

I am on a road, it is day light, my father and brother are there... there is a car that is parked at the curb. 

As my father looks up to me, I see another car pass slowly by... the driver obscured. But I know who it is... I know what he has come to say.... 

I close the door, not wanting to hear, to see... and move through the darken corridor. I pass another door..... hesitating, wanting to open it, yet knowing that what I will see is not to my liking.... 

I keep going... passing more and more doors.... following the corridors, turning corner's, like life changes. 

As many doors as I pass, and corners I turn, I know I am traveling through my life... passing somethings by, going through others.... changing with the time and shadows. 

I am there again, in that dark corridor.... not knowing which door to pass by, which one to stop and open.... do we ever really know, or is life an endless passageway... leading us to an unknown destination. 

Or do we get to stop and choose, which door to open, which one stays shut. My father is still with me.... watching, waiting, to see what I will do, where I will go. He knows that dark place I am in.... he's known for a long time. 

Yet has always walked with me there... through those corridors.