The meds made me fat while giving me the shits, created mental & emotional side effects worse than the ones that led me to them, and led me to taste metal again. I finally walked away from the whole therapeutic system after yet another therapist, while looking at me, said, “I can’t decide if you are PTSD or Complex PTSD.”  She was identifying me as my illness and it really pissed me off.  So, I weaned myself off my meds and threw myself into my work.   For whatever reason (th

Inspired by Rumi, blog posts about hate, love and god; and 24 hours steeped in connection with all that is. In Between Stories ~ Rumi Did you hear that? It’s the man who was looking for treasure. He wants me to finish his story. You didn’t hear him? Then, he must be inside me yelling, “Over Here! Come over here!” Don’t think of him as a seeker, though. Whatever he’s looking for, he is that himself. How can a lover be anything other than the beloved? Every second he’s bowing t

Every now and again, I feel the need to get a taste of my own medicine.  When I do that, I click around and find out when and where Panache Desai is going to be.  This time it was Black Mountain, North Carolina.  What’s little road trip?  Only seven hours between here and there, right?  Yup.  Something like that.  Seven hours to drive for an energetic ass-kicking. Let me divert a bit with a little back-story. I first saw Panache about a year ago.  He ‘accidentally’ showed up

There are those who think of me as ‘merely’ naive when it comes to things of spirit.  Here, I ask they consider their own limitation of expression that appears bound by others’ ideas & ideals. The string of logic posed by quite a few is that I’ve not studied spiritualism, metaphysics, any aspect of any religion, and not living/speaking/healing/BE-ing within the bounds of someone else’s playbook.   I’ve not sought out sages or saddhus, not read from mystics and mages, not wors

Unknot the knickers, unpinch the panties; it’s not in the nikked sense of the word, it’s in the George Carlin sense. Not exactly rated-G but not porn. So, I had an inspirational experience this morning on Twitter.  Because it’s one way I communicate w/ the world and because I believe in putting all of me out there in every way, I posted, “I’m fucking frustrated!”.  Oh. My. Yup, I said it. Folks seemed a little taken aback that a “spiritual” (whatever that really means) someon

Simplicity seems to baffles many folks. Because we want to understaaand stuff.  The hows of stuff.  The whys of stuff.  How does it fit with what I think I already know?  Which box of life-data do I put this information in so that it makes sense to me? This concept has become stronger over the course of the past few weeks as I moved through a strain of viral yuck.  As I recovered, I moved from literally losing my voice (sounding far too much like a toad for my liking) to figu

The other day I was struck with a string of questions.  They didn’t necessarily emerge from any real, in-depth thought.  Not things I’ve been ruminating on but they just came in a burst.  A rather long one but what are you gonna do?  Turn it off?  Methinks not.  So I put pen to paper and let it flow. Here’s what came: Why is it that some have such an issue with what I’ll call “just knowing” of the instant kind?  We eat like instant oatmeal, instant communications, quick meals