Eye — Bull pulls U in…
I always wanted to be a “fly on the wall” and gain the perspective of the center of the party, while remaining physically aloof…talk about cake and ice cream!
You scream, they scream, we all scream for ice cream…
Eyes closed, nose opened—dark room, as my senses are fully receiving all imagery, and I can still see the sky. In the freedom I have claimed since childhood I stopped wondering why, in my pre-teens, and just did it…and the it became the shit, which became the shiznick and then became the I.T.—Intellengencia’s Truisms.
While some have accused us all as talking sh — , at some point in our lives…I have come to choose the I.T. In this way, I am always speaking my truth, as it is known at any point in time. I find that if I am speaking my truth, there is light and all tunnels are pathways and all pathways are tunnels.
As the child of a US Army Engineer, I became fascinated with bridges and bridge-building early in life and have sought to create, navigate and research bridges.
For years and tears I’ve avoided the word preach, even though I’ve done a lot of public speaking and been put in leadership positions, but now I’ve come to embrace the word as I embrace my core which is love and joy. So I will call myself on this sacred day that I am a preacher of joy, thus giving credence and substantiation to my chorus line, Hug A Mug Of Joy. Are you ready to HAMOJ?
Everybody’s got a Story
I’m relieved that roots seem to be things that many are finally ready to “toot” about…..theWhotheWhattheWheretheWhentheWhy seems to be door openers, conversation pieces and game changing agents as we get past the middle of the first quadrant of the 21st century. Granted there has been venom spewed by some who use these answers as comparative factoids to show ”differences” and lack of “purity,” while others (such as myself) use these musings to demonstrate points of commonality.
I think there’s more we have in common that different, so I choose to view my roots as a pot of stew from around the world that has a fantastic cultural culinary lineage…I love to cook and appreciate learning new recipes — variations on themes and have often compared our individual cultural soup kitchens to a multiplex hall of ancestral gateways.
We (Carol, Dima, Keita & I) returned from a family reunion based on my paternal lineage last summer….from red shoes to tattoos, from boot black to mocha-brown to mixed-race and “other” races — we the people, tones and tunes of the over 100 gathered in Dublin, Ohio…there were short ones, tall ones, skinny ones and fat ones — black ones, brown ones, yellow ones and white ones…we are ONE family and focused on our commonalities…what fun!
Eric Burdon left the Animals and joined a band called War to claim. “Spill the Wine and take that pearl…” in 1970 and found myself dancing to the music while I joyfully frolicked with the lyrics. I asked myself to uproot the meaning of the lyrics and now, over 40 years later think I have discovered my interpretation from which inspiration followed me for many years…He was “asleep in a field of tall grass and dreams was the star of a Hollywood movie…” As I believe and glide through my world as a stage, I take nothing for granted and find ulterior meanings and secondary gain issues in all written, spoken and sung words. I also often mishear words which prompt new statements and observations, thus…I spilled the wine by bumping into “the girl” and the ensuing, investigative conversation empowered me to “take the girl” home. [NOTE: this was the 70's!]
Now I lay me uncovered and don’t sleep much, so I spend time with my ancestral stories and attempt to draw bridges across the lines and linkages to the “other” sides of my universes.
It’s not what I hear, but what brings a tear that draws the most attention and every drip is a drop of enhanced understanding of me, myself and I.
yadnoM New and the weN seulB