Tables turn
Moving around and around
Seesaw goes up while the other one is down
Just so you can push your friend back up again
To take the turn
The Swing goes Backward to move Forward
Then Back & Forth
You go up the Slide just to drop back down, again
Upward & Downward
Your hands in the air while waiting for your feet to touch the ground
To become grounded, again
Laughing uncontrollably on the Merry-Go-Round as you start to lose grip
Grasping onto the bars with all your might
Spinning fast Counter-Clockwise
Off you go
Flying and head smashing into a stranger kid
Scraping both your knees and both your elbows in the dried mulch flakes
You grow up to look back on what childhood was for
To learn about Playground Rules & Physics
Mixed media by MMM


I will not work for Physicality

I will work for Experience not Things

Things are nice, but useless

Because they all end up disappearing

In the Wrong Hands

The Light that disowns the Evil Places

Inside each Vessel

Is your obsession based on Love?

Who is your Authority?

And to acknowledge the Dark is to bring to Light

To face Yourself in bareness

That was absent of The World before

Naked thy enter

Naked thy depart

Naked thy return terse work

Mixed media by MMM

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Braving the Days: Permission and Decision

Photo by Tim Gao

I have been maintaining that the day I turned 30 was the first day of my life. I felt my first 29 years of life were just about me getting my feet wet and learning the systems of my culture, of metaphysical realms, of behaviors and relationships – and age 30 was when I began applying all that I’ve learned in order to morph a life I want to live.

My unraveling and deconstruction of forced constructs like judgmentalness, monogamy without commitment, feminine behavioral expectations and racism is just something that is going to have to be worked through with conscious effort.

The confusion only comes when I try to apply myself to analyzing these major constructs with idealism.

It all isn’t going to happen in one day, and I believe this realization comes as a benefit with age. I am not as hard on myself, and I have learned that other people’s mess has very little to do with me. Karma comes when you immerse yourself and intermingle with the spirits, realities and consciousness of others. If someone is behaving oddly and you know for a fact, that you have no desire to or have not even inadvertently tampered with someone’s reality or emotions, it is best to not take their drama to heart.

Adult life is a tangled web of complexity if you choose to be aware, and if you work to be aware, you can work to create peace in your reality by sidestepping the attraction of inner and outer turmoil. This is not to say that life doesn’t at times, grab us by the hair and whip us too and fro without our existential permission…

At this point, I don’t even care for the word “permission” and have been slightly avoiding the word “decision.”

Permission and Decision

You get old enough permission becomes a bit of a moot option when it comes to relationships. Permission turns into conversation, understand and compromise…hopefully. And decision can turn into intuition. 

I am not wise, I’m just trying. There are a lot of people in this world who give up trying to better themselves, to understand themselves, their environments and relationships. I hope I don’t ever get to a point where I don’t try to get by, to get along, to grow, to chip away at the crust of normalization and the force of the status quo in order to live more comfortably in a very tense and terse world.

…but maybe, if I moved to Figi, and buy a bungalow and cook what I grew and fished for, I would not be living in a tense and terse world. Life is what I make it…maybe a part of me is clambering to find nature inside and out.



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Satan’s in the sole of my left shoe

We are having a confetti conversation now

The words from your lips are bursting in colors of blue, yellow and red

Floating pieces that never hit the ground

Zenu is my mother

Her ship will be here any minute

To drop off money just in time for the birth of my baby Jesus

The CIA is onto me, they hear and see everything I do and say

Are you listening?



There is a funeral every evening at the head of my bed…

But no one cares to bring flowers to diffuse the stench of blood that seeps out of both my ears.

And I’m born every morning at the foot of my bed….

But no one bothers to bring me a blankets for my wet, cold, sopping body.

So how many times do I have to tell you doctor before you put me out?

Satan is in the sole of my left shoe

So please, take me out…

Take me out.

And off.

This hell road that goes on into infinity

This hell is desolate, deserted and noisy

This veil between here and there

Has already thinned.

When will someone fly me through the rosy scented moon door

On a blanket made of orange stars and black skies with my little baby Jesus?

It will happen you see because we are all connected.



“Oh, Silent Night
Oh, Holy Night
Not all is calm
Not all is bright
Round yon virgin
Mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace” and don’t feel as though you have smile

Merry Christmas.


Mixed Media by MMM

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“The greatest and most important question facing humanity is that of purpose. Sigmund Freud, the father of modern-day psychology, was humble enough to acknowledge the spiritual element of psychology in his later years, and yet the foundation of modern orthodox psychology is still based on his earlier teachings. To put it simply: there is an underlying (or overlighting) spiritual reality behind all microcosmic and macrocosmic creation, and this reality embodies the meaning and purpose of this creation.” Transpersonal Astrology, Errol Weiner

One of my first memories is playing under my grandfather’s kitchen table and thinking, “Why am I who I am?” My visage beamed as I thought about it.

At 30 I am still figuring out why I am who I am.

I passed through many religious places, but many of them seemed secular in their approach to the human experience. Sure, those churches believed in heaven, but why should a soul pass through the world only once? I asked my grandmother, Phyllis, what we would do in heaven, and she told me we would sing hymns to the Lord for all eternity. This seemed perfunctory.

When I studied Marxism in graduate school the idea that heaven was a place created for people so they would accept mistreatment on Earth in exchange resonated with me.

I remember going down the shore with my boyfriend when I was 19 and walking past a Seaside Heights church on the way to the beach. A sign read “Win brand new 2006 Cadillac in raffle! Like Pastor _____ drives!” I thought it bizarre. Week after week ascetics donated their money so Pastor could drive a Cadillac and give one away for free. This seemed inconsequential to the life of the soul.


I know in the only church I ever belonged to I once sat through a sermon at 17 years old where the Pastor lectured about looking out for those “kids from divorced families.” In the pulpit I sat knowing the Pastor was aware about 30% of his parish came from a divorced family. I wondered what he was hoping to gain by preaching on this, but I knelt and prayed with Gram because it made her feel good.

Mom gave up early on trying to find a church that would accept her without a father to her child. Yet Jesus ended up having a step father, too, and nobody seems to realize it.

We had a plethora of hermetic texts in my mother’s house when I was growing up, and reading became my church. I wasn’t judged by books and if I was I could close them without any humiliation.

The futility of religion lies in the failure to understand our existence in the Monad. The Monad is our greater cosmic self which is undivided by superficial appearances or occurrences.

One of the roads to our souls is through our ancestry. We were the first computers, storing a sense memory of all that came before us. If your family was ever involved in a massive genocide, your body remembers. When there is a legacy of rape in your matrilineage, your body remembers. It is something we carry, like distinctive birthmarks.

Having reverence for reincarnation, memory, and, what Jung called, the collective superconscious, can move us toward a spirituality concerned with humanity’s well being.

The desire to reset the many traumas in our ancestral memories is an impulse that can give us lift and purpose, not only to help heal the ghosts of our relatives, but to understand why others would like to do the same. It can help us understand the cultural push to fight systemic racism, for instance.

One of the tenants of computers that we’ve come to admire is their ability to hold albums full of our pictures. Family pictures, personal portraits, and in a variety of different ways, relics of our sex lives. When we consider those imprints and know we, as the first computers, have the capacity to store those photographs in our human databases, we can’t help but consider how we will work through those “files.”

In Family Secrets: Acts of Memory and Imagination, Annette Kuhn suggests:

“As with photographs, so with other memory prompts, the democratic quality of memory work makes it a powerful practical instrument of ‘conscientisation’: the awakening of critical consciousness, through their own activities of reflection and learning, among those who lack power; and the development of a critical and questioning attitude towards their lives and the lives of those around them. As a practice that begins with the practitioner’s own material -her memories, her photographs -her memory work offers a route to a critical consciousness that embraces the heart as well as the intellect, one that resonates, in feeling and thinking ways, across the individual and the collective, the personal and the political.”

For all the negative criticisms of social media that exist, it is an undeniably rich source of what could be a collective superconscious of secularly spiritual moments, and a congregation of seekers of truth.


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