buried alive

in justly words
in the pit of my stomach
a ray of light
tranforms

cannot bury
the lines of truth
in a pit
made for two

a shine glass glitter
wishful thoughts
caught windswept
on a tree top

put it in the rain
so the dogs can smell
its scent
be fooled

stranger in the shadows
spit your lust pant
so the world can see
you're just as good - bad
as me

drunken truth
twisted into sobriety
as the toxins fade
deep beneath the skin

truth stays the same
deception is the game played
buried alive
so others won't survive


~~ just a moment of ramdomness. its been a wonderful week. smile for the helluvit i say. keeps us feeling ok until next time.~~~

Faith

The Great Mystery. There is something called faith. No matter what life path they have chosen, faith stirs that spark of survival - the will to live another day.

The On Button

Technology. The World Wide Web.  I remember sitting at an old computer in a urban downtown video pool amazed at the idea of messages sent and recieved in a matter of 'minutes' to any where in the World.  I was chosen to participate in a federal/provincial funded pilot project for low income individuals interested in computers - specifically HTML.

As I sat facing the computer I recall being nervous to touch it. I was afraid I would break something or if I pressed the wrong button something horrible would happen.  As the instructor patiently explained the 'On' and 'Off' button my thoughts wandered to visions of mass power outages, smoking machines, and spinning clocks. A living SciFi film with a time machine at my finger tips. 

I reached for the ON button. Click. Beep. Beep. Grind. Then flashing acronyms and symbols.  The journey was about to begin I thought. The instructor, a tall English woman with a tightly wound scarf and a laugh that always ended with a snort, typed in a few letters to show off the Email function.  Then 'beep', the computer shut off.  I sat with little shock.  I knew I knew it is what I thought.  After the instructional 'snort', the instructor mumbles some darn technology comments and switches the machine back on.  Click. Beep. Beep. Grind.  Flash.  She presses a few keys on the keyboard to quickly bring up the email function once again and before it could 'compute' the machine shuts off again.  "It's a sign." I think to myself as I slowly move back from the machine. She gives me a "maybe you're right" kinda look and rolls her chair in front of the computer. After a few attempts, she decides she will let the computer cool down for a bit and goes into the history and purpose of the World Wide Web. 

The computer did eventually fulfill its promise.  At that time there were no email addresses that I knew but the instructor's personal email.  There were few pages to view. (I do wish I could remember the first page I viewed.)  But all in all I was amazed at the new world I was witnessing.  I studied my little HTML  book and continued to be amazed. 

2012. Within seconds high speed internet connection opens with information for everything.  My communication with most people are via email or social media sites, such as Facebook.  I am no longer afraid to press buttons and now venture into problem solving tech issues.  I have said hello and goodmorning to individuals over the waters and can view video footage of astronauts in space, learn how to build a exploding device, how to make the best saskatoon pie, murder, birth, war, peace, misery, happiness, church, sweatlodge, history, future, minds, voices, poetry, films, porn, love, marriage, divorce, friendship, racism, freedom - or how to build a house.  There are no limits to what can be found on the internet - The Web.    

The Web - we are all connected.  Yet .... we are apart.  Difficult to disconnect from the invisible life line we have all become so dependent.  I am still amazed at times at the capibilities of this communication attachment.  I can connect with a stranger as I view and read thought provoking text or his/her daily activities.  They let me in with a new kind of trust or 'need'.  Yet....there are limits to how far they will let you travel 'in' .  Those invisible lines of communication keep the humans apart but connected.  Safe. Safe from face to face interaction which may lead to human sensory communication while exposing the author with all its truths and deceptions. 

I miss the mystery and amazement meeting new people without needing the "ON" button close at hand.  The risk of rejection or the passionate acceptance of real 'live' humans. 

lounged with ancients

fit into the wind
like the dust swirl
in september air

a scent of red
as the eyes forget
in chemical pain

we lounged with ancients
when passions were living
in blue dreams

as the mind opens
to eye sight
our
breath
is fantasy.

earthly momentos

tapping keys into masked coherency
lost myself in the shuffle of learning
they will call me elder in a few years
i have earned my own guilt and shame
i shun the nag of self destruction
i have earned this day
no ego to claim as my victor
just the scars that rip open when the night falls
forced to remember who I am
caressed with earthly momentos
left to be swept worn by winds and dust
not lost
not found
just there captured in the inhale
and passed to the next breath
reconnecting the buried past
with tomorrow's history
never lost
never found
just there captured in the inhale

.....its snowing out there

Listening to So Long Marianne by Leonard Cohen)

The snow has arrived and with the unpredictability of today's weather pattern no one knows if nature's blanket will remain or melt into the ground to expose the sleeping earth to its death. But what hasn't changed, and I don't imagine will ever change, is the excitement in the the little boy's voice as he jumps and proclaims "It's snowing!" As the world moves on its way around a little one there is little to deter the young mind from seeing the wonder and beauty in everything. No matter what the world is puking up. (I see that sentence and can't help but 'leave it'.) I read somewhere in the beginning of my studies in old dusty literature, too see the world as a child with mature innocense. The exact wording is not what sticks its the message it leaves that matters. I have been pulled into each morning with a slight ache of unfed desire for a life that I have never known. Then....sometime during that moment or sometimes when I am trapped in the illusion of my sleep ... I remember. Its my experience, my life, that is the innosence and my willingness to live it the best I can is the maturity.

Eat Pray Love

A night with my daughter led to diving into the movie Eat, Pray, Love starring Julia Roberts. I have been waiting to see this movie - attracted mainly by the title itself and ofcourse knowing Roberts will always deliver a worth seeing performance.

Verdict? It was enjoyable with a couple thought provoking moments. Honestly, I waited for "the moment" to happen. I felt a glimpse of what it would be like to be in Italy, the architecture, the food, the language, and the people. A travelogue with a few intimate flings to spice up the "find myself" journey. My favorite part is just the dreaming of being on the trip she was taking. Maybe that was the point. From the point of being numb and unexcited about life to exploring and expanding personal limitations to spark the life back into the day. I can understand that. I can appreciate that. But honestly, I expected more. Will watch it again. Just because I did expect more and feel jilted.

So, as for my life. I am confident with the day if I have faced it with a hint of passion. The days that scare me is when I see the end and all the in between is just that "grey filler" that means nothing because it will end when I end.

I went to the library yesterday and browsed the poetry anthologies for something that would jump out and awaken something in me. Taking out aged hard covered Elliot, crisp Atwood, and colorful names I had never heard of. Then, there she was, Anne Sexton Complete Poems. I had heard the name and wanted to explore more women authors. How did they handle their crazy. I continued the evening being a taxi and waiting in my little black bucket of bolts reading the introduction to Sexton's work. A history of a troubled sucidal woman who dared to spill her confessionals during a time when women's secrets were just that - secret. A natural flowing string of words devulging her love affair with death - specifically her own death. The scary realization is I relate to so much of her life and why she writes. She wrote to survive, to live, to stop from wanting to kill herself. I don't relate to the woman who walked with a barbie doll presence or the middle class view on the world. I relate to the loneliness and death that seemed to consume her days and led to her eventual suicide. I have walked with this cloud over me and survived with scars from my own attempts to escape my chaotic mind. But I did come out from that storm. I struggle each day to keep from drowning in my own mind. So I write.

Eat, Pray, Love....I guess that is a good start. I like the title. A morning cup of coffee, a plate of breakfast 'something', and cigarette while being an observer from my kitchen window. I may not have Paris today but I smiled. I smiled because I still feed. I still crave for candy apples and flavored coffee. I still yearn for the knowing only spiritual awareness can provide. I still can shed a 'real' tear when a child cries. I can still dream of being loved and sharing love. Yes. That's a good start for the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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And I Write

I now have 44 pages of 'poetry' or strings of words that vary in stream and rhyme. Must not sabotage this move forward.

I never know when the moment will arrive. In that moment I write and even I don't believe it came from me.

Not much the hand wants to type today in generalities. I want to edit and write more strings.

Key: Write. Write. And write some more. No thought to the direction but once the direction arrives flow into it with no restriction. No editing. No correcting or deflowering the freedom of the unfolding journey of writing.

What do you see?

What do you see when I walk by you? No designer bags or leased SUVs. If I got a haircut it was done in front of my mirror and usually with a dull scissors from my sewing kit. The shoes I am wearing I bought in a second hand store for a dollar and that was three years ago. Looked new then and still passes for 'okay'. The other night I attended a book reading. I was a bit out of place but I always am. It's funny how on those nights when "I" do a reading the down and out fits the attraction, but when I attend the reading (or places like it) the experience is worth observing. I stepped out of the old renovated building from the stuffiness of suits and academic ego rubs. I had to have a cigarette. My daughter was with me and we looked down the the quiet street and went over how nice a city it was Just as we said these words a couple came around a corner. They must have been in their late twenties or so. The man was walking his bike with a woman on his side. They were laughing and conversing until they seen us standing in front of the building. I smiled. He pulled her closer. My daughter smiled and the woman's eyes darted. She looked terrified and he looked angry. Wow. It's sad actually. I was more sad for them than offended. I bet they would have thought the woman would have been safe with the Cnl Williams than with someone like me. I have lived my life promoting peace and humankindness in my family, community, and where ever I go. Yet, this man, who was given the trust of political leaders and royality was the one lurking in the dark terrorizing innocent people. Yet the man with the bike would place his trust in who "looks" like someone he could trust rather than someone that 'looks' like me. I was out in the night. He was out in the night. Our commonality. My only fear is my children will have to live in a world that is dictated by their fear. That fear is based on what? The color of my skin? The second hand clothes? Their supper conversation? Religous beliefs? News broadcasts? History Books? Its all out there. Food to feed the fear. Sad.

"What man does not understand he fears. What he fears he kills." chief Dan George

Bargain Hunting

The sky is pink...or is it light purple or maybe a bit orange. No matter, the sky is beautiful this evening. I spent the day searching affordable options to deal with some immediate concerns. I now have a vehicle, paid $500 for it, and it isn't the prettiest, quietest, or newest but its paid for and it gets me where I need to go. Today, I found a backyard mechanic to fix the brake pads. The little metal beast was squealing all over the city for the last two days. I called the shops and found this man on a local forum site. So it all worked out. Now to take care of the dryer. I took the back off but stop there when I seen there was a few more screws and backs that would need removing. A task for someone without a clue. I found another deal for a queen size mattress - $30 delivered. It is practically new but when i tried getting it to the upstairs bedroom I realized there is no way the bed is going to fit! So now I have a mattress and box spring sitting in my hallway. It will be going to my daughter. So it will be used. My other deal was a printer. I needed a printer for my daughters music sheets and my grandsons homework (homeschooling). So what do I find a free printer and she is willing to drop it off! I thank the lady and carry the little machine into the house and smile at the girls because of my little find. When i go to set it up....it is so old the connector is only for the computer towers and will not fit the laptop. So I have a printer. I have to be more specific with the wish list I send out into the air....a printer that I can use with my computer. Oh well, free leaves not much for complaining.

What would I do with my time if all these everyday adventures were erased with the sudden change of circumstance....like winning a lottery or inheriting some strange uncles pot of gold?

Changing Seasons

This time of year....when nature falls in colors and sleep overcomes...i feel sad. That is the only way, or simplest way I can explain how I feel. I love the changing seasons and the miracles that occur. Always different but always the same. A friend told me "it is a gift to feel the changes of mother earth". When I didn't understand what it was I was feeling I dreaded this time of year. Now I go with it. I feel it and everything slows down. I thank the relatives of earth for sharing the life and watch sadly as the way is cleared for a new year. Everything prepares to sleep. Nature's white blanket will soon be a reminder of the miracles that continue life. And when the spring melt and the first raindrop falls I will welcome the new year as we begin our life together again.

(Corny, yeah, but nature is sweet. Nature is violent. Nature is always changing. I love it all.)

Bukowski

Life is funny. One minute you are feeling like the party started without you and the next you realize the party was planned just for you. I have lived a full life with alot of adventure, pain, happiness, tears of sadness, and unending smiles for living. Alot of cliches, more than I can stand, but a life all the same.
I read an interesting poetic statement by Margaret Atwood the other day. It describes her journey to the writer in her. The inevitable pull to the wine drinking, cigarette smoking, paris seeking writers of her time and time passed. The desire to mingle with the risk takers and create the voice of a poet that would shock and portray an interesting 'writer's life'. Well, she found it, in the details of her life after the delayering of personalities acquired through the search for the writer in her. It is the presentation and perspective of the writer that entices the reader to continue reading. Bukowski presented the world with a dirty old man with a crude mouthful at every spit of drunken philosphy. Yet...it was interesting to experience his perspective of the world through the eyes of one in the middle of what most tried to avoid. It was no risk to him it seemed just his way and perspective and it caught on. I speak of Bukowski because he seems to surface in the work of new emerging poets where ever I go. I do admit I went through a time when he intrigued me to the point of purchasing all his books where ever I could. It was the feeling of raw truth...albeit his truth...that kept me wanting more at the time. I was pulled into his madness with a desire to find my own madness. This is where I found the writer in me. I projected all my filth, misery, and sweetness into lines that projected my reality. For a short while i experienced a freedom. Then I realized the journey was just in its infant stage. There would be more to come as my memory replayed forgotten or buried remnants of madness that just wouldn't be served best without continued maturing in the craft. I continue. I venture into the perspectives of writers to remind myself of that freedom....to be mad....my madness is a safe place for me. There is no good to it nor is there bad to it...it just is for me. I need it to be the writer I am. My words thrive on the madness around me. I write to live in the madness around me.

So Bukowski, the dirty old man spitting drunken philosphy, knew what he was doing in his own mad way.

....programmed into the brain where the spirit lived

it is time to register my teenagers in highschool and establish the schedule for my grandson's homeschool plan. i enjoy the creativity involved in putting the list of activities we will be taking on for the week or months. An important aspect of education is the social interaction. So much is learned in a conversation, an expression or body movements. Opinions are formed in conversations.

One plan was to get signed up for an autumn craft and art program at the gallery. I would also take advantage of the time there with a photography course. It is the move toward viewing the world in adventurous and possible ways. Well, I know I can't afford any of this without making small payments. So I had a pleasant conversation with the young woman taking on the greet and know of the gallery while the manager was away. I walked away feeling so great. The classes were set and the October youth craft bash promised to be educational and fun. The best part - our names were down and the payments could be made on the start date - which is the next time and only time in the month I would have money. So spending a few moments sharing smiles with a helpful humanbeing got the ball rolling for a positive move forward. "Not having money was not going to stop me from enjoying my life..."

Now, as the time draws nearer to the start date of the gallery programs, I decided to call to double check our registration and the exact amount that would be owed on the date agreed. Well, the telephone like the email, text etc...has damaged the already disfunctional act of communicating. Now I spoke with the manager. She sounded rough, older, and less interested in my excitement to start the programs. Dragging her voice she proceeded to inform me that the fees would need to be paid before they could confirm my enrollment. The financial aid program was not available ( I had not asked for financial I inquired about payment plan). " I have dealt with problems before so I cannot help you." So in a stuffy breath she made her decision in non chalance air....arrrrr. She flexed her power.

Why does it matter if the gallery won't wait for the fees or if we even take the program to learn, experience, create, communicate? It was just that moment of feeling like something we 'wanted' not necessarily 'needed' was unfolding in our favor. I had my teenagers excited a feat in itself expecially when they are more accustomed to disappointment. I felt like I had accomplished something. I did - I made the kids smile, talk, plan, and most of all - dream. Then because someone listened in the city....a communication between two people resulted in smiles, hope, confidence. Good feeling as the days went by and we knew we had 'that' day to look forward to. In a short technological line of black endless wire the words grated from her aged lips into a grinding echo that reached my ears, then my mind, my heart and my spirit. I waited in between the cold wire words for a moment she might soften and understand, trust, compromise, humanize. That moment never had a chance. She was like a robot. An answering machine programmed into the brain where the spirit lived.

Well, moving on. We always bounce back from these things. I just don't look forward to seeing the fade out of the little 'spark' that has been lit for the passed little while. They won't complain. They will nod and discuss other things. One of those things that was just in our grasp but was put there for someone else.

best drink I ever had

I have these thoughts that I can achieve outrageous goals in a short time. Sometimes it works and other times I wake up and think "it will never happen". Well I am in that mode of making things happen so lets see what happens.

Alot of love and peace this passed weekend. Felt the energy of what was described to me as the 'sixties". Anything is possible! Just smile and watch the world change one person at a time. Open a door and feel the ripple turn to a wave of human kindness. Let the human spirit of kindness be the leader of the day. I live in the center of the despair of families without, youth left out, women kept out, children left alone...a poverty of the mind and spirit breeds misery and despair. There is so much fear and anger there is no place to escape to. So it only makes sense to face it head on and kick it in the ass....I sat with one man and one woman who lived in a shack that wasn't theirs. They have no job, no food, no money. Yet they have the most loving way they have chosen to live and share. We shared moments that were priceless. Life is simple. Living is the tough part. Live. Just live. Smile. Cry. but smile again. A four day fast without food or water....brought the teaching of humility and appreciation for those everyday things we take for granted...i drank from a horn with insects swirling in their swim and it was the best drink I had ever had.

Distant from the Being as Humans

And the World is in poverty now! A reality in so many ways. We have starved ourselves almost to death by disconnecting with our main life force 'the Earth'. It is only in the reestablishing our connection as allies of the earth can we save ourselves. I have watched documentaries and read articles that reflect a hint of hope for the human 'beings' even after all the damage that has been done. BP oil spill "murderer of the ocean". Mother Nature's wrath spreading her cleansing hands with wind, storms, and earth shakes. An unrest with the people as they confront their governments once again to protest the neglect and disrespect of the commonman's plight to survive. These are enormous issues that span the whole planet. Yet in the shadows are the those whose voice has been taken during the decline of their lives. Asleep in alleyways, feeding from backdoor bins, stealing a can meat from a corner store, hunting sick and poluted animals, serving affordable junk to their children, drinking colorful water, and still dreaming it can change atleast for the children. What now happens to those who have been born into poverty? This is the thought that stirs my need to stand up and gather all the information that is out there and say "lets do this!" Turn the information into knowledge through doing, and wisdom through living.

It is easy to say grow your own food if you have the tools and the experience.
So....provide the tools and experience. Share the knowledge in every community! Let it be the way it has to be. Every neighbor to have a healthy meal for themselves and their family. And for those carnivores well hunting is still a great way to feed "families". It is the pollution and sicknesses that is making it difficult to trust this old survival way. But protect areas to ensure the natural habitant is available is a start.

I have a wish list and one item on the list is like many other families..'a home' to call my own. I have done alot of research on the variety of alternative housing projects being developed around the world. I don't understand why it wouldn't be considered as an alternative on a wider scale for impoverished families. An energy efficient home where the one time bill comes only in the materials. A home built with renewable resources to cut the cost to more than half for the finished product. Not For Profit organization run by citizens of the rural/urban area with a goal to ensure every family has a home. A barter system or mortgage payment as an option to assist in securing the home for the individual/family. For example; the new homeowner will now share the new homebuilding skills with future homeowners and share in the building of a new home. There are so many positives that could come out of feeling you have something worth while to offer and also have the pleasure of seeing the product of your hard work. Training and education for the building of the home and the continue learning in areas such as gardening (community gardens for example). A committment by Governments for the financial support for the training and resources to fulfill this goal. When one considers the cost of services put toward government housing, financial aid, and the thousands of programs developed and redeveloped to feed and house the homeless, this would be an investment in more ways than one.

These are not new ideas. We have become distant from the "being" as humans. Not only have we disconnected from our life source but we have created armor around our lives so we will not feel the pain of the world. Hoping maybe just maybe it will get better on its own. It is not to say we don't have the heart..the spirit...to make a change. I only say it is time to put our differences aside and realize we are all One on One Earth. Our only real Home. What is here was meant to be utilized with respect and honour for its abundance and generousity. There is no need for one person to be hungry in this world today. There is no reason why those who desire a home should not have one. There is no need for a government that only serves its own agenda as long as we have our voice! It's our differences that have created the dark shame over human life.

Let's Learn How to Make Money

Okay so i have been doing some reading or research on how to make money. The online resource is so vast this research could take up so much of my time I would never have time for anything else. So I am going to begin. First, what have I learned so far? I read over and over the best way to retire early is to start saving early. So when I was maybe 16 in my first job I should have been informed of the reality that tomorrow would require that I pay bills and the little paycheck could have accumulated over time and built a pretty good nest egg for these trying times. Well that didn't happen and I was never taught much about saving for tomorrow. So I am telling my children and helping them to begin their accounts on a steady basis so they will have something saved in the later years.

Okay, now the next thing I learned is that there are no quick get rich ideas out there that are 100% guaranteed.

Next, make money using what you already know and are passionate about. I like to create! I love to write! Not only do i come up with some great ideas i can also see it through to its fruition. So I guess the next step would be to start with a project that would also generate some income. then I would use that to invest in more materials. I should have a dollar goal that would allow me to put toward something that could generate more money. I have always like the idea of property investments and sustainable living projects.

I think the most important thing is to get started by reading as much as you can about the area of interest. Attend the free seminars that may be in the area and speak with others that are closely connected. And when in doubt scribble it on a piece of paper, read it remember the experience and toss the paper in the trash. Leave it there because doubt only clouds the inspiration to succeed that should be the thought each morning!

Now the reality! In a week my family and I are homeless. There is nothing I can do about it. I have done all that I can. So I surrendered to the idea that I cannot change this from happening but I am excited by the new journey. We'll do okay and in no time we will be back on our feet. My daughter had her first recital today. My son received 'the' phone call for a new job with higher pay and more hours. I have been asked to submit a manuscript of poetry. It will all work out. ALL IS GOOD AND THE WAY IT SHOULD BE.

Gathering Pieces

There are thoughts and feelings that pass through my mind each day that fight to be put down on paper, tapped on the keyboard or yelled out in ramblings. The twist and turns in my life since the age of two have left me in times of confusion and exhilaration. I get confused with the images of a childhood that seems so unreal compared to my life today. The exhilaration comes from knowing I survived and stepped out of a world that gives little opportunity for escape. I feel I am not the type of person to dwell on the past to avoid the present. I have taken all the pieces, and it took years to put together what I have, and placed them back into my life as a reminder of who I am. Like a broken plate the pieces were scattered and unidentifiable. At times I would select only a few pieces that I felt belonged. But every shaving became an important aspect of my growth and strength. If I rejected even the tiniest piece I was rejecting a part of myself. All my experiences in these forty years of life have made me who I am. The pain, the abuse, the loss, the rejection, and then the final arrival have all created the person that sits here today. It is like when I call myself by name after leaving some place I was visiting it is done to ensure I do not become lonely for a part of me I left behind and therefore may want to return to retrieve it. This is something I was taught during my travels. And I do not want to return to those places that had instilled such pain but to reject the experience would mean rejecting a part of me – incomplete, not whole, and lost. All is a reminder of who I am and a reminder of my blessings.

Now what!?

Well I finished the shift today. It was a long and very cold day. People are always saying be careful what you wish for you just might get it. Well I had many moments today when I wished I could be home in bed. And this evening as I was leaving my daughter's home I tripped and fell onto the cement. I swore i heard a crack. Without any real concern shown from my darling children I hobbled to the shower fighting back tears. I asked for a break and got it. Long story short I took myself to the emergency room and was told I cracked a bone in my foot. I will be hobbling for awhile. Stay off your feet the Doc says. No matter how I look at it there is no avoiding standing on my feet for the job. I have to quit. So much for the extra income. So much for feeling a bit of relief. I am so fricken used to disappointment yet I still don't like it one bit! I could limp and just keep the weight on the opposite leg. I have to avoid the supervisors or they will surely tell me to leave. Damn my foot hurts...aches. to top it off the Doc who tended to me in the emergency room asked about my employ and what i did..."sort the potatos and what about the unwanted imperfect potatoes what do they do with them? Could feed alot of people those little potatoes that are tossed." Guilt...I knew this but this goes into the topic of how poverty contributes to other issues of environmental impact and social complacency. So many potatoes. I can still smell the earth and hear the hollow clang against the sides of the potato shoot. Another experience. No fair. but all is good and the way it should be....just have to see it.

Spirit Message

If you have wandered into this site, "welcome". I don't advertise or roam to much to grab attention. But when the attention does come so does the interesting questions and relationships.

I was just reminded of a reemerging message to everyone, us; no particular color, religion, or political stand needed, just an ability to listen. Those who 'know' will understand. There is a time when using what we 'know' will be the most important guide for survival. A spiritual war that began with a division of tribes that occurred during ancient times. During a time when the mysteries of today were not hidden but common knowledge and practice for everyone. The generations of distorted versions of history have attempted to erase all memory or knowledge of these times. A duty that has been passed down to ensure that the unfolding of goals emerge. These goals or ambitions are not in the best interest of those who cherish their freedom. A reawakening of genetic memory that will give rise to the knowledge that will reconnect our existence with our original ancestors for the sake of our survival. This is not a string of words open for debate. If you know then it will make sense. If you don't it is not my responsibility to convince you.

All is good and the way it should be.

Scary World We Have Created

Desperation

A news cast today spoke of two young girls that had assaulted a woman then took her purse. This happened in the evening. I don’t know the circumstances of the girls who resorted to violence for an unknown amount of money but it did make me think about what a person would do in times of desperation.

I sat with the thought of “how desperate would I have to be to resort to acts of violence to achieve or receive what I needed?” There were times in my life when I watched as others ate a meal as my stomach ached with hunger. I was too young to be given employment (legitimate), too young for the hostiles, and too old to be taken in by any of the social services. In those moments of real hunger I contemplated stealing. I would play it over and over in my head. A ten dollar bill could buy a bag of food to last me a week. It would help me stay awake during the day. I spent a lot of time sleeping where I could because of hunger or just plain sadness. Playing the whole assault in my mind always led to seeing a stranger hurt by my hand. Maybe someone also in need for their family and then I come along. I never could do it. This also made me angry. The hardest moments when I was convinced a certain stranger would deserve to have his world shaken by a violent theft. I am thinking of those who would literally kick you to the curb for just walking on the same sidewalk. Maybe they would learn or understand to some degree what it was like to have been told “you have the world at your fingertips” and then find out that was a lie. The decision not to resort to violence in this time of my life was based on a need that no amount of food or money could replace. The need to still look at myself without shame. The world looked at me with distaste but I knew one day, one day, I would taste the type of freedom they had so easily taken for granted. Only a certain few make it out or in.

Back to the two young girls. Today there are so many excuses for why violence is used. I believe desperation is still one of them but it isn’t the strongest motivator. A sub culture fighting for power in what ever way is now the key to survival. They have learned that if you don’t take it you will never have anything. I don’t think this is any different no matter what society or community. The young have just picked up on it and now are enforcing it. A scary world we have created.