I went Back to Austin/and my city was gone

now back in oz for winter visit and memorials for departed beloveds Bluestar and Dorothy Lay. I was sitting in the new sushi-go-round cafe watching the little plates going by like an endless train of possibilities and my friend said"It's like Disneyland has taken over Austin." even in the (formerly) middle-class neighborhood of St Johns the old is giving way to the new and shiny and bright and oh so precious NOW of a consumer dream. There is a new condo complex going up at the corner of St Johns and Guadalupe with (low-rent) options of one bedroom for $150,000 or 2 bedroom(certainly more luxe) for $400,000. I felt like Chrissy Hynde looking at Cleveland"My city was gone".I feel the loss of the Austin I cherished for 40 years and see the bright new metroplex beckoning me: and for a price I can join right in. OH I can hardly wait to get back to the Organ Mountains.Namaste,Brooksie
 

6/26
now who put the poison pen in this maniac's paw, giving him permission to spread his bile, treating others with contempt and fear?
whose blessing gave him a feeling of ease, ensuring a golden wreath of appreciation, placing him above the poor strugglers?
why let the way he sees things rule, enthroning his humanity in a bubble, preventing any real contact from occurring?
how am i so convinced he's not me, buffing my nails until they gleam, filing the points to penetrate his ego?
when compassion costs more than hatred, cheapening interactions into sound bites; when the way i appear is taken as real, allowing masks to replace hearts; when a teacher owns a seaside fortress, fencing himself away from the lepers... 
who says that nothing is sacrosanct; whose life entitles him to more; why bother to click on "reject"; 
how long can i hold onto my disgust, when it tastes just like my own mouth? 

now i am losing patience. i thought that i could replace it with understanding but i feel that just knowing why is never going to be enough. i sit and watch the circus that is social media and i wish that someone would just really reach out, ask to meet face-to-face or even just share who they are, not just what they think about what is going on(real or not?) in the world they see reflected in the light of their screen. i guess it's just that i am feeling alone. i keep hearing Pink Floyd asking "Is there anybody in there?" yes. keep asking, but not on the facebook, please.namaste

5/17/18 -4 the living-
now i sat and watched her go to death. she looked surprised and then relieved. i kissed her cheek and closed her eyes; i cried a bit and then i sang--i sang a hymn she loved to hear, and then i danced around the room because at last we both were free, she from her empty nest, me from my too-full planning.
i made the calls, the hearse arrived. they let me wash her face and hands, and took her off to fix her hair and prepare for one last matinee.
some time has past, five years and more. i've lost more kin and lovers, too. now that i know no fear no death, i move between the worlds at peace, and try to breathe in all i can, and then release it all again, in hopes of finding rest and peace by dying all the way at last.
my mom and dad are gone away, my husband and my brothers, too. i see them in the rising moon; i feel their love inside myself, and all is well and all is well, and all they were is here within my heart, my art, my way of life:  no need to wish for any more. 

now is day 39 in las cruces: watching Queer Eye makeover of a 57-year-old Georgia bear. Just the kind of guy i love to love, straight but flexible and so hungry to change, to blossom. and he does. Those five queens take him and polish him, bringing out his sweet playfulness, rebuilding his self-esteem, re-decorating his life without dishonoring him. "We grow up and want to find love.We are all the same in that way." And he does, not just with ex-wife #3 and with the faerie godmothers who work with him but with himself. He sees himself as they see him, lovable, worthy, sexy, brave--this is small town Georgia good old boy here, hugging gay guys, crying with them out of joy. 
i cried too, wishing all those straight men (and gay ones, too) could just ease up and be themselves, whatever that means. I see that in myself, transforming and becoming and relaxing into my  64-year-old self. 

aa saves the day

now sitting in a cafe talking with friends, wondering about the end of this year and the dilemma of life in america now. what can be done? all around is despair and anger and hatred, flames fanned by a media that insists on disaster and chaos. we decided that our nation is obviously in the throes of addiction and alcoholism, as evidenced by the results of greed, fear, and hubris, all things that recovering people recognize as a part of the disease of addiction. so perhaps what america needs is an intervention leading to addressing the spiritual malady that would wreak havoc on all who love her. there are some principles that might help: love and tolerance is our code; lean on the help of a higher power that you can live with; focus on helping others without desire for reward; acceptance is the key; honesty, openmindedness and willingness are the tools;and perhaps most importantly don't take yourselves so damned seriously. it has worked for millions to restore us to sanity...can it work for a whole nation of zombies? namaste,brooks

winterset

yesterday was fog and then rain and then wind and then sleet and then snow and then sun and then snow and then a snow-bow and then that western mesa sunset that paints all red and orange and purple, not pastel like in the east but vivid colour. now is winter on the high plains, in portales. i finished with oz one more time, wished it well and fled to my retreat, new mexico. ah tejas i gave you my best but... well you who dwell under the thumb of the wheelchaired menace know who you are. las cruces beckons...come see me there in the new year. gay solstice to you all,brooks

now is the hurricane, in central texas. mother nature has got us on the run for a change. i have been reminded of her power and beauty recently, being pounded by fist-sized hailstones on i 40 in new mexico, watching the thunderstorms and rainbows from a cabin overlooking mesa verde, standing on the overlook on the pass above flaming gorge, and then, the eclipse. whenever i see one of my "leaders: acting all in-charge i superimpose the hailstones bouncing off their pointy heads and say"now, really, who is in charge of this world?" not them. not me.

faith in the process

faith in the process--today i am living in fear. what do i do to protect mySELF? i plan, i travel to a planned place, safe from surprises(ho, sure). what would happen if i gave in to just traveling, wandering, really trusting my gut, just turning left up there and going for a while? and where is my validation<Oh Brooks I am sooo proud of your courage to just leave and travel and blah-blah-blah>? one usually unspoken reason for my doing this thing was to escape the daily life of my daily life in oz: i was tired of responsibilities(like property ownership/management), tired of relating to those AA people, lonely and hoping i might find my true love out there, somewhere. and guess what? if i can't find someone worth loving in me i won't find any Other. there is no Other today, just me and Blessed Babaji, who just points that-a-way and says "Jah. Go." as i try to cling to my vision of the Beloved it shifts back to the man in the mirrour. so i will go on; i will go with less planning, more faith in myself, my HP and the place where i sit, tonight, watching a massive thunderstorm over Mesa Verde. namaste, &*(ches

now it's a wonder, women, to me, a man, why we are giving space in our brain to another "hero/ine" who thrills us by killing, maiming, blowing up stuff and then saying that "love is the answer" WHA? i did not see any love in that movie, and the one piece of "lovin" was not shown....wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea. i am still waiting for the true feminine to come out somewhere, not just a female figure acting out male fantasies. nice costume, Diana, beautiful homeland, but must there be war? i know that men seem to really want that but seriously? self defense is one thing, but that was not that. i want to kiss and hug my enemies until they feel the love; or feed them and wish them well. war is not the answer, it's like ^&*(ing for virginity(remember the 60's?) namaste, brooks

now is a day of remembrance, of honoring those who went into battle and were injured or died. yesterday i drove along the Civil War/ Trail of Tears Highway in Arkansas and did some remembering.The victims of warring are not just soldiers, sometimes they are civilians, sometimes they are just children in a house that suddenly explodes. I want to also honor those who stand against war, whose hope is that there will be an evolution of personhood that will make war and warring a thing of our past. So mote it be 

now is the anniversary of my dad's birth. 97 years. he's been gone for about ten years, but i look in the mirrour and see him in me. thanks for the training, dad, you taught me that a man can be different from johnwayne and them and still be okay. 

now is the sunset across the city of queens. i contemplate the fiery end of a day and think of my friend CB who is busy dying from cancer. there will be a great loss of sunshine as she passes, for she is a beautiful redhead a temptress and a true believer. her heart has been tried and found pure gold. her love is unconditional. she has been a true friend to this old queen, welcoming and honest"you need to go now" and i will go on. singing the praise of a woman, a goddess, and maybe even a saint. pass on, sistah, ease and comfort be your companions, you live in my heart, namaste,goldenrod. 

now is

now is the pollen path: beauty before me/beauty behind me/beauty to the right of me/beauty to the left of me/beauty above/beauty below/i am following the pollen path. it's about beauty, seeing the beautiful, being in the middle of an existence based on seeing the beauty. so as ms jackson says"get the picture?/ Let's dance.

now is who-do-you-trust time. when i have to make a decision, to whom do i listen? if i need information, to whom do i turn to give me unbiased data that i can interpret for myself? i tend to be skeptical of most advice, knowing that my own is often coloured by my own biases and agendas. i am learning to trust myself more, to realize that 63 years of experience with myself is a very good guide indeed. if i need more then i do focused meditations, write and re-read and usually call someone who knows me and can help me sort through my confusion to see the core of truth that is already there. i trust me. i trust spirit-in-me to let me know about the deeper issues and my body to tell me what it needs. i trust LOVE and not whatever the latest post on facebook might be. or the ama. or any political party.or even my teacher, though i do revere that wisdom. s/he tells me to listen to me. so i guess i will. happy 2017,namaste,goldenrod 

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.