old journals...

Journal excerpts:

29 March 1996
* The more the songs I hear become poetry in my mind, the more my poetry resembles song, the closer I come to freeing my inner artist, the closer I come to participatory creation. The Great Creator calls to me to come out and play, and though still housebound, I find myself listening, waiting to hear the call of the greatest Artist of all. I tune in like a radio receiver, surprised to find that merry-go-round voice has always been there while my antenna has been down for long repair.
Poetry to song. Song to poetry.
Imagine that.

25 April 1996
... I seem to spend so much time in grief. There seems so much to grieve for, so much to regret. So much loss and sorrow.
But all around me, about and inside me, is Beauty, and Love.
And we all balance as best we can. We cry and we laugh. We grieve and we rejoice. And if we’re lucky, we remember to thank God for it all. Everything. Everyone.
Creation. Duality...

... and the ultimate miracle of our power simply to perceive it all. And to participate, all in our own way, in Creation. What is happening all around us every day is infinity unfolding. Time exists only in the now, in this moment. I’ve lived an infinite number of moments. And an infinite number of moments await me.
I’ve lived a long, long time. And an infinite number of moments from Now, I will stop.

13 May 1996
... Thank you, my Treese, and be careful. Walk with God, as He has always walked with you. Hang on to Love, my baby, always remember Love. And remember, there is no one, no one, here on Earth who loves you more than I do.
I promise.

21 May 1996
... And out my window, there is finally green again. Gaea and Her time schedule - we need only be patient.
So, after this long, long winter, I hope to begin again. As things start growing again in the earth, so might I begin as new once more, somehow get back to that magical time-box where not only each day, but each moment, is the only one I have. Existing in time as I know it, hand in hand with the Great Creator. My participatory moment-to-moment existence. Sometime in there I may find my poetry again, sometime in there I may start feeling good about myself once again. My hand in Yours, God, I only have that one wish. A return to innocence, living paradoxically able to instantly spot deceit. God, make me as wise, and as innocent, as I can be. Let me participate and therefore touch all about me, gently, to embrace or reject as Your wisdom and Your presence dictate. I am Yours, my will and my life, moment to moment. I have always been Yours.

27 March 1995
... I live eclectically. All things balanced in the constant awareness of duality, the essential dichotomy of life. Evangelists and Satanists, holes and humps. Heaven’s a toilet bowl and Jesus is working the flush. Universal balance is gridlock constipation and Satan’s selling Ex-Lax. Think I’ll go hug a tree.