now is the last moment. tonight jesus is born into the world, the son of god, the bringer of a new day for all people. tomorrow everything will be different:  the child inside of us all will be honored by the birth of one special child. the message that the messiah brings is not one of peace but of chaos and change. all the old laws are now defunct and the message is that there is a new law that supersedes all others "love one another." dear christian brothers and sister, can we start there? namaste,goldenrod

now is waking up afraid. what is this future in this new america?how will i continue to travel and feel included in a place that does not respect my lifestyle, spiritual path or hairstyle? should i hide better(and where)? should i scream louder(as my cards say i should)? should i just keep on dancing as best i can, looking at this perfect moment in this warm room surrounded by the love of my chosen family? i will not run away today. i will not give in to anger or fear, but will continue to welcome those who would call themselves my enemies to join me at a table set with love and compassion for all beings. namaste,goldenrod

now is sunset into the ocean. how does that orangepink blob affect my heart? i know that i am moving around that sun but it always fools me for just one second into thinking that it is going away. luckily, the moon is just to the east, above me, reassuring me that all is well. how can i not worship nature in all her glory? how is it that words and promises by other humans do not give me the satisfaction, the security of just fifteen minutes on the shore looking at the blue sky following the sun longing for the moon? i am content in this paganism. blessed be. 

now--11/18(for my beloveds Jim and David)so how to love when hate rules the airwaves;how much to tell when truth brings danger?/no cave deep enough to hide the glitter, no gun powerful enough to kill all bigotry./ so why not give in to sensibility, turn off the dance music and resign to shrinking back into slavery, running up that hill to reach nowhere?/ so we are only sure of this existence--we act as if eternity is a given: no time like the present to return to the past, no blanket thick enough to cut the chill./ evidently we are too dumb to survive, too caught up in figuring it all out, rapt in expectation of rapture(taking that tour through the sewer)./ so love just sits there beaming, disco queens paint up to party; rulers measure only straight lines, fear rolls off spandex in motion./ how much to trust in balancing, how little to suffer from ignorance? namaste,goldenrod

now for L. Russell--hank, oh hank, oh pound them ivories/shake your head of snow-white wisdom, and get my ass on the dancefloor/ throw up hands in wonder and kiss some pretty strange soldiers./ asylum indeed, resting in madness/ eating salty candy all night long/ no wonder you stole my bay's thighs, no wonder i ate acid with you on the hit.
hank, oh hank, it's getting dark/clouds of ignorance harshin' our buzz, so i'll get up from here right now, put on my stetson and butt stompers, and go to lawton, oklahoma/ dare you to meet me there, old man, old wild wailing mystic and prophet, taking us back to the island again./ hank, oh hank, i wrote a song:  can i sit on your lap and sing it to you?namaste,brooks l.

now is day 7--strategy(from Starhawk)--oh man there is a battle of man-to-man-to-demon, and oh there is blood spilling, bad blood from ancient struggles. who will wear the laurel, who bow to kiss the victors; why tear up lives and dreamscapes, why not just reach out?/ oh man there is a hunger for touch and taste of honey; and there is joy waiting, pure joy from broken shackles. who will lead the tara, who rise to meet the lovers; why hurt to follow freedom, why not just be love?/ oh man i am an elder, worn wise and strangely stupid, and oh i do want holding, warm lips and strong emotion. who said youth is wasted, who dances, only slower,stronger? namaste,goldenrod

now is day 3--resurrection/insurrection (for L.Cohen)
the various undeterred arise, throwing aside shrouds of despair; clutching books and turquoise knives, they slip into the stinking City./oh soldiers of Jehovah, sisters of the whores of Orlando: waves against the crumbling breakwaters  take up the pledge of lovingkindness, stab to death the greedy bastards./the past is tasting like tomorrow--sticky sweet with amaranth, passed from tongue to tongue to heart, reshaping bitter thoughts into victory./oh poets of Golgotha, songbirds on a throbbing wire: teach the children ways to nurture, wean them from electric death./the ancient tombs of suburbia cast out the reawakened goblins dressed in worn-through denim, howling out the full moon hymns./ and She rises big-bellied; and we bow in humble wonder; and the blood flows just like Always; and the old ways sweep out the debris. namaste,goldenrod

now is 11/9-day one-(to a port-a-potty)finally the gate's ajar and it will all pour out in stinking dancing screaming streams of violence and uprooted energies:  so be the start of the next saga, the movement of the monstrous US.
witches squat along the moonroad, inscribe the pentagrams,incite the dark hearts into frenzy, invite the terrified to "Look HERE!"  for all our centuries of showtunes, of cowardly lions achieving valor eating little yapping environmentalists along the twisted forest paths, the coda to the finale rings out:  French horns trumpets tympanies--
we in the chorus catch a breath, expel a single "Om" and stretch to catch the light from the sunship and bounce it into the streets where children ignore the message, entranced by the medium.  at last we shall know just when the Wheel expelled the hypocrites, the Tower threw them to the Earth who absorbed their bones and atomized their empty hearts for recycling, the Fool leapt on out ahead, afraid of only staying put, waving and beckoning us to change and transform to undo this spell.  namaste,goldenrod

now is samhain, the night when the veil thins and those things from our past can come back from wherever we buried them to dance with us again. some are persons, some are pets, some are ideas or ideals that we held dear. how do we respond when the ghosts return? do we hide our eyes? do we deny their place in our life? do we just runrunrun screaming toward the next distraction? or do we turn and face them, welcoming them, honoring the place they still hold in our lives? at midnight the graves will reveal all that was hidden. can i at last unbury the pain, the resentments, the anger, the obsession so that we can all just get on with our....lives? so mote it be.

now is that age-old battle of male-vs-female. i just finished reading an excellent book(Stiffed by Susan Faludi) and this is her closing argument:he no longer has to live by the "scorecard" his nation handed him....and so ...comes an opening, an opportunity for men to forge a rebellion commensurate with women's. and, in the course of it, to create a new paradigm for human progress that will open doors for (all) sexes.....to create a freer, more humane world. In the end, though, it will remain a dream without the strength and courage of men who are today faced with a historic opportunity : to learn to wage a battle against no enemy, to own a frontier of human liberty, to act in the service of a brotherhood that includes us all(pp.607f). Having just come from two similar gatherings, one of gay/bisexual men and one of men and women, gay and straight, and experiencing the beauty of ritual and sharing, including talking circles and sweat lodges, i am overjoyed to announce that the troops for this new battle are gathering in arkansas and texas and kansas and oregon and probably in your town, too. read the book(if you can find it) and find someone with different "junk" from you to discuss these issues. the time is now, the place is in our hearts,namaste,goldenrod

now is a memory of a sacred space: the rock wall in northwestern alabama. it is a site created over 35 years by a stone cutter in honor of his great-great grandmother who not only survived the trail of tears but is one of the only persons documented to have returned to her home. the artist hand-picked ant transported over 9,000,000 pounds of river stones and placed them, one at a time, to create an amazing art piece, the largest free-standing(no masonry) rock wall in the united states. he did it all himself. when i was there he was awaiting the arrival of three tibetan monks who wanted to visit one of the three holy sites in the u.s. the other two are the medicine wheel in wyoming and the hopi sacred mountain in arizona. look it up. now how i felt was overcome by the devotion to intent that this artist had. he is now 87 years old and has published a book If the Legends Fade(Tom Hendrix) that has sold over 22,000 copies from his front porch. marker 338, natchez trace parkway. i am still feeling the journey, in awe at the level that devotion can take, challenged in my own practice. 

now is about intent. as i return to the east i wonder just what is this journey all about? it has been 10 months and i am still drifting from one place to another. and that was the purpose, after all. but as i face east(air/new beginnings) i set my intention to BE love. not to make love or give love(although those are fine, too) but to just look out of my eyes into the eyes of each being i meet and be love with them. without words(getting tired of words, me), without touch(very difficult for me), just eye-to-eye and hopefully heart-to-heart. and to you my beloveds i send my devotion and that love that is greater than just my love,brooksie

now is bosque redondo. in 1863 the us army moved 9000 natives(apaches and navajos) from their homeland in western new mexico/eastern arizona to a prairie in south-central new mexico a "walk" of about 500 miles. most of the apaches did not stay(remember geronimo?) but the navajo did, until 1868, when they were released to walk back to their homeland. 7300 returned. as a white man who has studied us history i was still shocked to realize the extent of the genocide practiced and the rape of the culture: having just traveled from the window rock "capital" of the navajo to the veritable wasteland near ft sumner new mexico i could sit in my air conditioned van and imagine the shock of the Dineh. if you have not read up on their plight, i would only ask that you do so in remembrance of that struggle and thoughtfully as we look at a nation that prides itself on freedom. i am sad and angry today, and ashamed that i "live in a country where justice is just a game(B. Dylan)"

cool in colorado

now is being alone again after a week travelling with a dear friend. her company was so warm and welcome and we said lots of things to each other and discussed ourselves and revealed a little more of who we are now. and now is alamosa colorado, in a very ancient motel by the side of the highway, in the rain, in the 60 degrees, and i am once again alone. and loving it. last night i had a small breakdown because someone that i long for is far away, so i cried, and conjured him up and told him so, and held him(or the motel pillow)and then went to sleep. i need companionship and touch and all that BUT i am also so happy on my own. no insult to all of you my beloveds, you remain so, but tonight i sleep alone and revel in it.

now is pema chodron, teaching me:when discovery and exploration and curiosity become your path, if you follow your heart, you're going to find that it's often extremely inconvenient. when you take refuge and become a Buddhist you become a refugee, you leave home and become homeless. you've left the shore but you haven't arrived anywhere yet. you've left home, you've become homeless, you long to go back, but there's no way to go back.Refugee: that is what it means to become one who wholeheartedly is using one's life to wake up instead of going to sleep.It's like someone laughing in your ear, challenging you to figure out what to do next when you don't know what to do. It humbles you. It opens your heart.(P.Chodron The Wisdom of No Escape). namaste, my beloveds

now is realization: i am on this journey to learn how to be alone. what a surprise! i am thinking about where to be next, who to see, and i am only sure that i have still not accepted the idea of this journey as mine/about me. i have been going from one refuge to another(thanks to my friends) but only sitting with myself when i am travelling. i have expectations of connection/re-connection with others from the past but...i am becoming more sure that i really do want to be alone. read about antarctica and a small dwelling, one room, just enough, and it sounded so calm. cold, yes, but calm. i don't know today. i guess it's time to take refuge in the buddha and the dharma, that third jewel is just not doing it for me.

now is terror:somehow someone has decided that people like me "disgusting" should be terminated. maybe on the dancefloor. now i have always been of the mind that there were those who would condemn me to hell, but now there are those who want to hurry my voyage there. i am not scared, i am NOT SCARED and will not go back into that useless closet. this country encourages violence against others, sells guns to just about anyone(editorial in albq paper today about how easy it is to buy exactly the gun that was used to murder those lovely queers. it took the writer 7 minutes, using a driving license and a minor background check of about 2 minutes and about $600 to buy an assault rifle in philly.) now i am not going to arm myself(i wonder if any of the ones killed in orlando had guns?) except in the light of truth. my beloveds, this has got to change. people with guns kill people. or deer. or dogs. or someone that offends their god or their sensibilities. what can we do? speak out. it has worked before. and pray to whatever Power you hold dear to show the USA the way out of this madness. as for me....i am going dancing. namaste,goldenrod

now is something unusual: a throng celebrating a diversity that was newly embraced, an ancient demon banished from hearts one queer auntie at a time. "some came to sing/some came to pray/ some came to shine the dark away(namaste, m.safka)." and seeing the  amazement on faces turned from blindness to Light; and hearing happy shouts and feeling the cool breeze off the mountain, blowing fresh and renewing our vows of respect for the Other, and ourselves, carrying the scent of pinon and locust down Central...blessed be, Queen City indeed. 

now seems to be about endings. i face the west and call to water. i know that all will go. so how should we honour our lives? should we go on and on, steeped in suffering and the breakdown of the body? should we take our chances with the afterlife, walking calmly forward into that western light? should i help someone who wants to go on to go on? and what about me? i wish that i have someone who cares enough to help me let go if i need help, to hold my hand or push my wheelchair into the ocean, or just to say that i have the choice today. namaste, Babe. 

now is a place between the sun and the moon; i am on the side of the mountain, looking across the Valley. the sun is setting to the west and the moon is rising over sandia. she is full; i am full; i perform the ancient ritual, forming a circle and calling in my beloveds, both living and not; together we face the six directions and call forth the Powers that dwell there(and within each of us). there are few places more sacred, more lovely than this hillside in new mexico. thanks be to Elena Gallegos and her avatars who made this a place where this tired old mystic can sit and breathe in the pinon and juniper and chamisa and the night as it covers Albuquerque.  

now is a ghost from the past, someone who is worried that i might be dead:NOT. i did kill our connections,blocking your phones, spamming your emails, boxing up your letters and etc and storing them away for the archives. and then i hit the road. i am on the road like kerouac but without the paregoric. i am so glad to have unbound myself from the past, not destroying it but transmuting it into stories and more stories....remember when? i do.

now is a discovery: anderson museum of art in roswell, new mexico. one of the most eclectic and amazing collections that i have seen in the southwest. the artists are supported by a foundation that provides space to work, money to feed and house the artists, a collective of like spirits to encourage and champion the art produced...remember patronage? and the result is a building filled with paintings, sculpture, multi-media constructions, and words. make a trip there; go on line to see what is there; there is something happening in new mexico, in roswell, that refreshes the artist in me. aliens? that too. 

now is confession: it was frightening to cry at someone else's wedding. i've been saying "oh, i don't really need THAT...i am so over marriage...i do just fine alone..." and then saul and robert got married before robert's heart surgery and the sweet touch saul gave his hand as they wheeled him into surgery broke my heart. oh i do want to be with someone(Martin Sheen would do nicely), to share, to plan, to be a partner in life! so before i sink into self-loathing despair or leap at inappropriate lilypads i just need to admit it: i am lonely tonight. and i want to feed a bite of that thai salmon to someone who loves me. as i love myself. 

now is praise for real men:today is my father's 96th birthday. what he showed me: honesty, compassion, humour, commitment to family,joy in life and love. he taught me to share in the work, to lead by example, to be tolerant but still hold to my values. he would have been perhaps amused by Trump, disgusted by Cruz, but not voted for democrats, because he was an Ike man, a Goldwater man, but not a nixon  or bush man: he hated war and encouraged me to be a resister. "I will drive you to Canada myself" he told me in 1970, but he respected my decision to stay in this country and work against the War. he acknowledged my queer self but still felt that it was somehow wrong. he always wished for grandchildren and did not live long enough to see that queer people could parent, too. thanks, Daddy, for your way, the way of honor. i miss your smile, namaste,brooks lynn

now is the leaving. this time it seems more like a happy escape after a wealth of visiting: i have many beloved friends and often long to be surrounded by all their arms, but it is too much. i have come to honor my solo self, content to travel and look more deeply into me. but i will return to oz. as pj harvey sez"you will not be rid of me/lick my legs of desire/lick my legs they 're on fire" namaste,beloved #$%ches

now is the ritual of the dance. the women present themselves as channels for the goddess. the drummers set the pace but do not control the experience. the audience claps along, sings, chants, shouts "OPA!" and beholds the working of ancient magick. i am only a man, and can see and feel the power but not hold it within myself. this is the only time i wish i were female or more female than male(i am very male). the women go on and on, the drummers try to keep up with the power, the audience joins in the worship. it is beltane and some one will be the sacrifice. finally, a job for a man. 

now is the vision of my beloved. what if i saw the face of my beloved in the face of every sentient being i came in contact with today? how would it be to walk around in love? who would i affect and how would i be a different, more compassionate being if i led with love? am i willing to risk my ego to connect as totally as possible with another, irregardless of their appearance, station, politics, lifestyle, gender...thank you my teacher Ram Dass for reminding me of these things. namaste, my beloveds.

now is the turning. there is a choice to make, a possibility of going, of continuing, of staying, of continuing. i am in this river, gliding between soft banks, high cliffs,tumbling up for breath, back face down to face fear, back up to see where the sky is now. now the sky is above me still: still i cannot be as the river takes me on. i won't put my feet down today, i will just float/fly on.  

now is a return to oz. the first leg of this journey ends where it began. since this is not a race i can just pause and breathe and reflect on the trip so far and not really plan  the next lap. so far i have learned that i am capable of leaving my refuge of 30 years and going out into space. i can survive the changes that go along with this movement. i recently read R Silverberg's The End of Winter about a clan that leaves its cave after 700,00 years of exile due to the climatic change on the earth. they go out and explore. that's how i feel. and now that i am back in the house in oz(as a guest) and back in the arms of my beloveds who live in this place i am feeling blessed, but not trapped. i can leave again. or i can stay. my guide is available at any time to remind me to focus on here/now. it is a sacred time (as are they all). saw graffiti last night on the sidewalk on duval street "give up" it says. and i will give this up, throw the cards up in the air and watch to see what they show.

now is a spiritual experience(NOT a religious experience) in a church in north dallas. the sermon was about transformation and transition and spoke of the difference between them and change. change is what is, the "on the ground" experience, and is often viewed as a wall we must climb over or overcome in some way. transition is the pathway through the wall, the way we adapt to the change, the acceptance of where we are now and not so much of how to get somewhere else. transformation is on the other side of the wall. did you know that when a caterpillar is inside the chrysalis it actually dissolves into "biological goo" before reforming and breaking free? the pastor encouraged us to enjoy the "goo" phase of our transformation, personally, spiritually, and as a world awaiting the passage into change. so mote it be

now is mother nature beyond my control. 12 hours of downpour in alabama; five hours of intermittent downpour from decatur to jackson mississippi; signs across mississippi and louisiana of 17 inches of floods last week, tornados, hail, typical spring in the south. i am in awe at the power of the skies. and grateful for my intuition that told me to leave decatur as soon as the rain let up and drive on to reach vicksburg before dark. the rain increased between jackson and vicksburg, with high winds and hail and 3-5 inchers of rain, and i was already in my hotel room in vicksburg. i did not drive the wrong way up the hill.  

now is the sunset over mallard creek in north-central alabama(my roots). i have been to the baptists yesterday and have escaped with my heathenism intact, BUT i did have several times during the lengthy sundayschool and church service where  i seriously questioned my salvation. some people are so intent!! i know all the words, having learned them as a child; i know that i don't feel damned to eternal fire because i refuse a savior(sorry, mom and all my bama relatives); i sit and breathe and look at this sunset and feel connected to all this...and even to those hardshell baptists who asked us to pray that the georgia governor would make the right decision about those queers and those bathrooms and OUR CHILDREN ARE IN DANGER...from their narrow minded attitudes. listening to the blues. watching some huge fish work the water in the creek. i am sacred/you are sacred/we are sacred/we are one(thank you skeeter). 

now is a  visit to the past, a thought about the future. the international civil rights museum in greeensboro, north carolina, built on the site of the woolworth's store where the first lunch counter sit-in was held. the vision that some people had then about how to change their world to be more responsive to human rights; the use of non-violence to achieve those goals, even in the face of the terror of the police and their fellow citizens. it was sobering to remember the move my family made to the South in 1965, to a place that still segregated the races in schools, restaurants, public facilities, and the town itself. why did the people not rise up to do destruction? some did, in watts, in detroit, in newark, in jackson, and some walked, or sat, or lay down, or prayed, or just shamed the ones who would de-humanize them. what worked? hope worked, and not the hope of reward after death but the hope that life could be more rewarding. so they chose life. i wonder how the world can give enough hope to the youth in the throes of poverty and despair who might turn to violence and self-destruction, to let them know that their worth is inherent, not needing heroic action to improve their state, just the decision to choose life.

now is the possibility of settling. i have found a place that speaks to me, that can provide the cultural contacts, like live music, faerie presence, livable town life, and of course the mountains and trees and water. black mountain, north carolina. tonight i ate perfect vegetarian thai food, watched the sunset and moonrise over the blue ridge mountains, and heard a dynamic jazz duo in a big ole club that used to be the chevy dealer. the guy in charge of the tickets said "this is heaven" and i don't know about that but it seems pretty perfect right now. now will i just stop my travels and park the goldenrod here? no. it is not time, i have other places to go, many other bears to pursue. but i will be back, for gay spirit in late september. tomorrow is greensboro and my dear friend Kathleen. and another dose of city life. 

now is in memory....four years ago today my mom transitioned. tonight i am less than a mile from Loretta Lynn's home in Tennessee. my sistah Fawn sang a lovely song of Loretta's at the funeral, and i just finished singing it here at the KOA. i miss you, Miss Chessy and am so glad that you are still with me, in my heart, on this voyage. honor the goddess that is your mommy, in whatever way you can. i'm gonna go get me some southern cooking!!!

now is the trail of tears. i was once informed that it was called that because it was so rough and the wagons bounced so much that the people riding in them were crying. really? the interstate between oklacity and  fort smith is pretty rough, but i ain't cryin about it. central oklahoma is home to roger miller and sheb wooley (erick) and woody guthrie. they have their own museums and the little towns where they were born are proud of that heritage. i have been feelin like the queen of the road. i continue to come across members of my faerie tribe in the oddest places, like amarillo, or anadarko, or sallisaw. lots of us are going back to our country roots to resettle, to reclaim, to recruit. watch out, oklahoma, we are here, too. namaste, #$^ches.

now is the turning to the east. i take the lessons of the western mesas, the pinon, the stark rock faces reaching toward the tree line of the sandias, the san juans, the jemez, and travel toward my roots in the appalachians. i know that even though i am not born of the western tribes, that i am dineh in my heart. "The Master observes the world, but trustshis inner vision. He allows things to come and go. His heart is open as the sky." so mote it be.

now is the past: The City and the Pillar by Gore Vidal. a love story about two young men. set in the 1940's. the new paperback version has a wonderful foreword by the author. read this book with your lover(any gender will do); thank the stars that someone was willing to risk some truth so long ago so that we can be better lovers today. tell some young queer about our ancestry. it is royal.

now is a kind of redemption that is taught in most self-help programs....i got up...i went to work on my life(reorganized the van, made a laundry pile, sat in the sun for an hour) and reminded myself that this is about my choice, not a sentence handed down from someWHERE or someONE else. the power and the answers that i need are already inside me, i just need to get out of the way, stop fretting, and breathe right  now. thanks for the prayers and offers of help, they add light to my journey.

now is vulnerability. i have been ill for the last few days, lots of coughing and difficulty breathing. i was afraid, so i went to the doctor in flagstaff. who assured me that i was not getting pneumonia but only another virus thing. he gave me prescriptions one for inflammation(steroid) and non-narcotic cough medicine. the combination of the stuff i was taking and the stuff he gave me sorta unhinged me a little, i almost fell in the bathroom at the motel. out of control of my body, what a thought! but i was able to leave there and do a shorter drive the next day find some medicine(green chile stew) and continue to farmington. today i mostly just slept. and thought about mortality. now i don't think i am afraid to die, but illness and pain freak me out. i want someone to bring me soup and fuss a little and then just be close by...in case. this journey is indeed being a teacher for me. pema chodron says the best day of our life is when the rug gets yanked out from under us and we realize that there is no babysitter coming to rescue us. is  that true? 

now is return to the east,bakersfield today,flagstaff tomorow. the drive from portland was full mountains, nice wide road, mt shasta! and the beautiful town of roseburg, oregon. then miles of almond trees in bloom and crops growing, signs asking "it it wasting water to grow food?" and "dams or trains?" i am reminded of the texas panhandle.I keep getting the  5 of swords anxiety/release of anxiety. am i doing the right thing? just drifting enjoying the leisure and the scenery and not wondering(or always wondering)what is this life now?"ordinary men hate solitude, but the Master makes use of it, embracing his aloneness, realizing he is one with the whole universe"(tao ching 42) i am not a Master but i am using my solitude to examine myself, my place in this new world. 

now is the return to the city, post hotsprings. time there was timeless, no real clocks or schedules, just a gong to call us to the veggie meals. i was in my usual place of fear and frustration, then on day three i just gave up and let it flow over me(literally, the day was a rain event like only the northwest can produce.).then i left on monday and got stuck in the ice and snow on a mountain road which i took because i turned the wrong way. i had to dig my lovely van out with a handy douglasfir branch i found on the roadside. and what i learned is that i can, if i just sit for a minute and don't lose my mind because of fear or anger at myself. portlandia is all that i expected, including crowded, busy,full of waytoohip folks, and yet soemhow compelling. maybe they nees a dose of barbitchka here?

now is the oregon coast. huge waves, rocks,trees washing up on the  beach. a mid-sized town, not too many tourists in the off-season. clean air, quiet, and big ole bears in the grocery store. what more could i desire? the roads are still twisty but not as much, maybe i am learning how to navigate. calm. centered on this beautiful cloudy day:they say the sun will shine tomorrow. here with my dear compadre phoenix. faerie life is a good life. 

now is politics. "when they lose their sense of awe, people turn to religion. when they no longer trust themselves, they begin to depend upon authority."(Tao Ching 72)"when a country obtains great power, it becomes like the sea:all streams run downward into it. The more powerful it grows, the greater the need for humility. Humility means trusting the Tao, thus never needing to be defensive. A great nation is like a great man:when he makes a mistake, he realizes it.Having realized it, he admits it. Having admitted it, he corrects it. He considers those who point out his faults as his most benevolent teachers. He thinks of his enemy as the shadow that he himself casts. If a nation is centered in the Tao, if it nourishes its own people and doesn't meddle in the affairs of others,it will be a light to all nations in the world."(tao Ching 61). so mote it be.

now is the roar of the wind through the pines on the northern california coast. i survived the desert and the long road through the mountains(and received a certificate of survival from the camp ladies) terrified at the steep hills the sheer dropoffs the rain and the fog. i am afraid of mountain driving, especially on roads too narrow for my large car with no shoulders or railings. now i must rethink travel plans to stick to more"normal" pathways. or? the coast near mendicino is giant: giant cliffs, trees, rocks,waves. i am avoiding the fear i felt. i did not want to roll off the mountain and die today. 

now is the nature thing. standing in an ancient pueblo facing the painted desert with the tallest mountain in arizona behind me, doing a mother ritual, breathing in the cold snowy air, knowing that i am of this earth, in this air, filled with this fire and water, centered in this kiva in this time in this place. i don't need to go anywhere or do anything to be included in this godliness. reading dorothy day who believed in THAT GOD in the Holy and Catholic Church and who did mountains of good works, being the voice of the poor and dispossessed and going to Mass every morning. i don't need that: i do what is presented to me ina way that speaks of greater love than i have. is that god? or GOD? i dunno. today i saw and felt the power of the Mother in that place, Wupatki. blessed be.

now is a poem from a friend:Say It by Joyce Sutphen 
Say that it is the continuous life you desire,
that one day might stretch into the next without a seam,
without seeming to move one minute away from the past
or that in passing through whatever comes
you keep coming to the faces you love,
never leaving them entirely behind.

Say that it is simply a wish to waste time forever,
lingering with the friends you've gathered together,
a gradual illumination traveling the spine,
eyes brimming with the moment that is now.

Say that it is the impulse of the soul to endure forever.
Say it again.

this is a day of remembering, of seeing your faces, of longing for your arms to hold me near, of making do, making do, making do with memories.thanks for the poem, Mary. 

now is an hour of viewing the body of work. lazarus. black star. life on mars. lets dance. blue jean.rebelrebel.and the next day. i love the sound of breaking glass. and now is the time to paint my face and go out into this world, reborn.

now is a time of remembering...i used space oddity to wake up my brother. i performed rebelrebel and lived it. i dyed my hair and painted my face and went dancing with my red shoes on. i wore out two low albums and still wish i could have been in berlin with him. now i am okay because he made it okay to strut and pose and write and speak with his music and his life. and the next day and the next and another day.