Wisdom in the Madness of Your Vomit

i was writing a poem
when coyote came
and threw up on my page
i used his vomit for ink

i found a stone in coyote’s vomit
Stone cleansed my page and wrote,
Us Stones are thousands of years old 
Some of us sing, some of us write,
some of us teach, some of us paint
We’re always learning
We always have to work around
tricksters throwing up on our pages

We live thousands of years
You humans live a century, maybe
But if you really thought life is short
you would use time to see
how much you can give, not take

It’s your choice, it always has been
So when trickster appears
throwing up on your pages
look for the gift
cultivate it – blend it – mend it
Howl at the moon with the mad ones
but never
throw up on your own pages
unless you’re a trickster, too
and if you are
you already know what to do

Vomit
then let it become art
Understand it
then find a word for it later
Live it
then dye it with purple
Mistake it when you know it
Know it when you mistake it
And find the wisdom of us Stones
in the madness of your vomit

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I Would Rather

I would rather feel the weight of the world

I would rather feel the sting of betrayal

I would rather feel the pain of hurtful venom spewed 

I would rather feel the doubts of others

I would rather feel the dispensation of mockery

I would rather feel the ridicule of lies

I would rather feel the attempts of assassination
of my character

I would rather walk through
the vehement questioning of,
“Who do you think are you?!”

 

I would rather
sing alone with no support

I would rather sit alone
with no encouragement

I would rather go through all this
than live one moment
separated from my dreams

 

It is I
in the moments of truth
that walk through the critics

It is I
in moments of truth
that walks through crowd of attacks

I will walk through all of this
and so much more to get to my well –

the well of dreams

 

In the dry desert of loneliness and discouragement
the Creator placed a well
full of pure water and nourishment
within our hearts

My well contains the nourishment
the Creator gave me

My well is where
the Creator placed my dreams

I will walk through it all
and endure anything to get there

This well contains my Life-giving water
which are my dreams

 

Who can stop me?

If I don’t walk to my well of dreams
then it gives credence
to the illusions of the unwise
who spend their days
at my well attempting to divert me

They know where my well is,
they set their sights upon it 

They cannot stop me

My calling is too great

 

They have no power –
only discouragement to offer

While they guard my well
they are not attending their own

They are becoming dried out and thirsty

I even offer them drink
because they are suffering

This enrages them more

Their attacks become stronger

They refuse drink,
not because they’re not thirsty

They refuse only because it is my hand
that offers it to them

Their pride overrides their thirst

 

What they do not realize
is that I already tasted
the pure water from the well of my dreams

My children will share
the Life-giving water from this well

My wife will share
the Life-giving water from this well

I will continue to go to my well
when thirsty or to prepare

I will go there whenever I choose

I realize the continuation of this

I will not be someone
who is surrounded by water
but still thirsty

I will not be someone
who knows
where all the other people’s wells are
but discourages them

I will be grateful to those
who have chosen to deny themselves
their own well of dreams

I will be grateful to those
who have chosen to deny themselves
drink from The Creator
in exchange for an opportunity
to mock me
their mocking laughter guided me
to my well when it was dark

 

I would rather be called crazy
for drinking from the water
of my dreams
knowing the Creator
has placed it there for me

I would rather be laughed at
1,000 times
knowing I am on my path
than to receive an applause
for not living my dreams

 

Only living my dreams is living

Straying from my dreams is dying

 

I would rather live

I would rather dream

I would rather shed a tear

For every tear I’ve shed
I have laughed 1,000 times

For every attack I endured
I’ve been supported 1,000 times
and loved in 1,000 ways –
even if it was in a prayer
from someone I’ve never met

I know and we must be reminded
that the number of distractions
are limited
but the wells of our dreams
are limitless

I will continue to draw water
from the well of my dreams

I will do this not just for me

I will do this
so there are less attackers at your well
when you face the truth
and find the courage
to draw from your well –
to draw, to write, to recite
from your eternal well of dreams

I would rather know
that I am doing this
and you are doing the same

Writing for Approval is Self-Rejection

I’m grateful I began writing way before the internet existed. Before the internet and all the way until now, I write ideas, poems, observations and stories in my journal, on a napkin, or on some loose leaf paper. Some of my writings I choose to make public. Other writings may be public one day or never, that’s my choice.

Before the internet and social media existed, I didn’t take my writings around our neighborhood asking strangers or people I knew to read what I wrote and give me their approval. I surely don’t do that on the internet now. I never wrote for any other reason than I am a writer, an author and a poet, which are just some of many things the Creator created me as. I don’t worry or think about if someone else has written something similar, better, more elegantly or with keener observations. I write to honor the Creator and the gifts the Creator has given me to use, share and enjoy. I don’t write because I think I have the answers. I write because I am willing to learn.

Write because you love it. Love because you write it. More importantly than any likes or shares on social media is what you experience in those sacred moments of writing – the Creator flowing with you, within the pen and paper or keys on the keyboard, with whispers from Spirt coming from deep within your soul, blending to words as you co-create with the Creator.

Journal and Pen

Chit Chat, Busyness, Small Talk 

Chit chat, busyness, small talk

Kiddie pools filled with soundbytes,
three minute attention spans,
self-righteous indignation,
contrived malice,
get rich quick schemes,
and ego-stench
that’s always talking
Chit chat and busyness
that makes talk small
where listening doesn’t listen

Somewhere beyond
Chit chat, busyness & small talk
The lion remembered
His roar
By sitting sunrise to sunset
With the bumblebees
Who were told by the experts
That they cannot fly
Yet, they do
And their work pollinates
The world with life

The Lion dove back
Into the depths he’s created in
Remembering the life-giving
Nectar he’s made of
And he roared
Reclaiming his voice
Awakening the land
From the endless slumber
Of chit chat, busyness & small talk