The mind, a dormant stone

Here I am New climate covered in fresh green Neon blades rising Tasting air Tucking away seeds For spring rain Let life show grains for a new year Dazzling blue In the juicy mud. JW 51015

oh to be like the birds soaring above my eyes my mind unable to fathom their distances. the way they speak to the moonlight dovetail in the glow of sun they are free. sweet freedom is something i dream of and feel so far away from. how can we believe we are free when clearly our livelihoods are dictated by social expectation? there is no place to basque under sun rays until the clouds cover and turn cold. no place to save your iced tea beside a lamp in your front lawn to circulate air until the pigeons stop playing. no fountain the hummingbird could drink from in blissful pace no restful place to watch them take dives in and out of fancy. freedom is an understated religion where sanctity blesses the skin of my being enclosing me in days of tantric eye feasts. breath unending in its sweetness grace of truest life.

  Just caught a free show from the circle of life; it all started with a journey to solace, pilgrimage to the place where trees lean high and squirrels massage the roots. The wind led me with maternal wing to view the pines and watch the leaves change. Angels blessed me as a feather gained momentum towards my eyes and sailed on into the blue. Smiling, I began to sift my sights through the branches to find more feathers floating through the pine needles . Soon, a coat of feathers drifted off into airy sea like a school of fish – surely too many in one cluster to be a coincidental engagement. In a nearby tree, perched, was a beautiful young bird of prey! White-breasted hawk taking a breath, enjoying the view, securely honing in on intention.  How majestic to see such wild truth in front of my mundane stroll.  Brother Crows soar higher calling out to the hawk and begin to squawk truths. All I can do is hold on to the moment – my huma...

The Mother. She needs us, but more importantly,  we NEED her! 

To No One I feel so lost… and empty and lonely. Not feeling this world;  how they shape your mind to make you believe that you need to be somebody to somebody,  to be somebody. Society leads you to water, asks you for a quarter to stare at it to see your reflection, asks you for a dollar to taste it, $1.50 to drink from it, and $5 to take some home with you. Water flows free. Of the land,  within the land, to feed the beings of the land. Well, wasn’t that us? Or was that to no one, who was staring down into the water, asking the sun if it would take a nickel for a little warmth on the skin? Of a no one, born to the land  of earth and water, rock and soil, to attempt to forge humanity in a land of hungry dreams and debutante balls. More silicone for the pushin’: technology, Barbie Dolls, prosthetic -- admired for their unnatural presence. Fallacy to replace bodily. Dollars to replace rocks. ...

Spring poem spoken by Poet, Jessica M. Wilson ...

beautiful transitions slip from my shoulders. ahead, i see flowers blooming bells held full for hummingbird bellies. squirrels curl their tails above their noses curiously seeking an extra nibble for their troubles. sighs draw in from my eyes escape through my mouth; they water at the blankness of new, churn for the day of old. when was the last time you felt a belonging to the earth? faces scatter to blanket the galaxy; puzzling glances know they're not alone. hands held open to new energy, the hummingbirds close in the distance sweeten the palm -- a balance created in season. ~ Jessica M. Wilson

This Los Angeles morning lends itself to rainfall dropping like pills, sliding down throats with steamy black coffee. Makes me proud to know this weather and greet this day...no make-up on. Same teared up cheeks from last night's drama, left little room for new melancholy. I just sit still to listen to earth's new noise. A continuum seeping without injury; hard to sustain. Don't burn the timbers in vain. Share your hands to lend warmth. It is in this pocket where humanity is cradled.

I am of the school of "if it feels go do it"... and I also stop to smell the roses. Hence, the photo below :) <3