Just possibly the worst thing I can imagine is to kill and eat babies.Okay, possibly worse would be to find that I used to live a life in which I killed and ate babies.... and had to wake up to that in the middle of this experience, and totally blow my sense of self to hell.

that has not happened to me.



I have however had deep and vivid feelings and imaginations about a woman I loved dearly. Her name was... is?... Beatrice. I recalled killing her in another life, in the seventeen hundreds.

For years I've been getting odd flashing of stabbing, and red and fear. They come at the most inexplicable times. I can feel the tension in my body, and if I'm quick I can evaporate it.

The night I broke open these memories of Beatrice, I cried like a baby, and sang to her. I found myself saying goodbye, feeling that she has been with me through this lifetime - the very act of accepting a degree of reality to these visions came with the acceptance that she is STILL HERE. As I sang, I  felt her presence, and begged to see her face one more time. I recall loving this woman beyond all I'd known, all imagination.

I could only see her hair.

I allow myself the doubt. It feels quiet and peaceful. 'wow, this might be real... or...' just that little 'may' relieaves so much. 'Perhaps I'm just tuning into the rest of reality a lot. after ll we are all one, so I'm sure someone killed their wife named beatrice in the seventeen hundreds... I'm just feeling it like a movie. its a way to teach me that I am also everyone who kills now...'

then I can allow the whole question to fade.
But the flashes of violence fade... and return.

Like hair I have to shave.

I asked Lady J  why this won't end, and got 'its something you are using to ground yourself right now'. that seems so trite, almost horrific in relation to what it is, the feelings, the anguish... a distraction?

I've often heard we choose what we fear. My goodness, this is an elegant thing to fear isn't it? what a great story, perhaps I can write it on the interet and lots of people will read it and be astounded by my life, at least that'd put it all to use, and perhaps free me from the fear...'

what am I distracting FROM that is so bad I'd be attached to such time dancing pain?

I ask for the guidance to embrace it with grace and tenderness.
I release this confusion. I accept my soul. I honor the changes.
Blessings be with all who suffer from quiet  fears, as i do now.

a While ago I sat on the streets of Venice Beach and stared at a parking meter.  I was thousands of miles away from anything I knew as home, I was in a horrible fight with me lady, and the car I'd come to retrieve was being held hostage.

I stared, and prayed to  every God I'd known of. I felt my eyes begin to see. I felt them surge with energy. I knew I could heal them, I knew I could focus... I cried quietly, fiercely as I real eyesed I'd witnessed so much pain.

Lifetime after lifetime of seeing so much. In that moment I felt how I just do not want to see anymore.

I gave up movies a while back. And then, as I was leaving them... I watchecd run Lola Run.

It was this howl of intention, this madcap assertion of creation. I loved it.

That is how I run.

At this point it is an odd, fascinating mix of terror, and glee. Please, let me run. Let me tear up the feelings with my own strength, let me dig down below the roots and tap pura vida, pure life of this world, and embody amagic love creature, the passion of passing all limits I have known and becoming of this World.

of course, that is what I am running from as well.

Myself.

I am one big joyful bunch of contradictions. I leave states of consciousness almost as easily as I enter them. I embody whole feelings, and think in them, and make choices, only to awaken later pondering the inane insane odd opinion that once upon a time three minutes ago filled me to the core. I didn't even know it was possible to feel in so many ways at once, much less be completely out of it moments later.

I don;'t fully know how it began. what I remember... was not wanting to sing the same words again. I wrote my last song, and I couldn't keep singing the same words. they kept wanting to change.

And then the terror came. It lived in my grandparents basement, where I later discovered I was abused. the words still trip off my fingers. doubt doesn't know what to say, but it is here, wanting to be more real than the images I remember.

so I was there, and I was tearing apart the very bathroom I'd blacked out as a child, and making a new wall. And something was trying to eat me alive.

all the tools I had were not working. all my prayers were getting drowned out. so I sang. I sang and I kept singing. It was like running. It was like flying. It was too much for the terror creature hovering around my soul. I could change rhythms, enter a waltz, embody Dave Brubeck and change it up too fast to be followed. The terror was left behind.

Isn't it a strange story, to finally escape that which creates hell? to escape, to prevail... and to do so with the prayers and skill of an emerging man... and then to be left with the same tools that are rooted in fear. Ego doesn't know how to compute this situation.

If I fuel the pride, am I not anchored to a state of being that is abused? If I enliven myself wotj the same tools that overcame my fears, how do I ever leave my fears behind?

run run run run run.

In this odd way, it is simply what I know. I have been travelling for six years now. Living in different families, entering them completely, participating in changes... and then allowing life to set a fire that I dread and long for... get me moving. show me what I can be, pump my lungs and push me.
 so I can remember walking bartefoot in the snow for half an hour. So I can recall dancing over moving cars, so I can feel the freedom of swimming in the storm, singing lifetimes of creativity through my soul within minutes.

I wonder who is listening?
Is this a prayer for the fear to return?

In Tarot, they often read the hopes and Fears in the same positoin. We fear what we hope for. Its the shadow side of life, to push away that which we call to us. I am running from my dreams, and I dream of running....

wait, that wraps it up, doesn't it? if I dream of running, and yet I run from my dreams...

so I sit still, and the run goes within, and my mind picks up the slack... and the words trickle out like water... flow...

what is this? I am breaking down all I've known. I feel beings from another world. They live in song. they communicate that way always, they need the ups the rhythms to share what they are... and I feel them leaving this way, fascinated by our own... wanting to cement certain songs, INTENDING to let go of their flow.

While I just want to embody it.

And I fear as well.  what would actually happen if it WORKED?> If I was able to bring to life this passion I feel and share so quietly?

Yesterday someone finally heard us. It is strange I sing with Lady J, and everywhere we go, its like it didn't happen, people haven't known what to say... .leaving this gaping question... do they hate it? do they fear it? Do I want them to fear it? Are they sensing the whole picture, the fear, the running the terror beneath the joy of freedom that singing it out creates... making it out into the world, in voice, in essence, in song...

and yesterday Julie said it took her five minutes to realize we were singing. It sounded like we were having sex... it flows like that.

running from terror taught me to flow, taught me to flow with words, and sounds and this lead me into love... into making love with the fear, into the passion it took to rise out of fear and...

Make love with my fear? Is it this simple? But how then do we ever escape the cycle?
I love that I can run. What insane migrant soul would choose to enter fear constantly to accept a way of beaing that DEPENDS on the existence of fear? I am terrified that I chose this simply because I love to run so much. That I chose this SO I could run so much. What a choice.

there has got to be a better way to do this.



when we sing now it cuts through any bad feeling I have. I can't recall sitting down to sing without the confidence that whatever is harassing me will leave. that is quite a shift from my early attempts, my early drowning. I have come far.

Being able to wipe away the fog has radical consequences.

The last run I am in, seems to be the avoidance of running my own dreams. I see them, I feel them, I breathe them, and I know so much about making them real.

I see others, I feel them, I share their heart. I know how to do this. I do not want to run anymore. as I learn to run my dreams, to embrace the essence of cocreation enough to maestro the chaos into the freedom songs I feel and breathe...

Will the chase end, as the dance begins?

New Jersey used to be rather beautiful. the Meadowlands were just that, Meadows, full of water ecosystems and birds. Used to be.

they use Jersey as an example of how not to Urban plan now. As Jersey grew, they simply added bigger wider 'better' highways everytime the old roads got congested.

So they built more houses, and the new highways filled up, just as packed as the old ones, only five times as many cars overall.

and the wetlands filled in, and the birds died.

my grandpa was the lawyer who negotiated the sale of the land that became Giants stadium. His great great great great great great great patriarch was one of the three captains of the Boston Tea party, along with Sam Adams.

they killed a lot of Natives, and Birds.



A while ago, I learned to link my thoughts and my feelings. It is more appropriate to assert, our thoughts and feelings are always linked. Our thoughts ARE our feelings. The energy of our ideas, and emotions, and states of consciousness vibrate. These vibrations can be sensed in our bodies, around our bodies, moving through our bodies...

And After I learned to link them, to recognize which body sensations, which energetic vibrations, correspond to which thoughts... I went further...

And learned to evaporate them.

It comes on likea wave. Sometimes its fast and harsh, sometimes its pleasurable. As far as I've noticed it centers in many parts of my body. Sometimes it moves very specifically right to left, or reverse. Sometimes it shoots pulses down, or up out my crown like a founatin. Its kinda like a loose firehosesometimes... and others, as subtle as a brushing kiss.

Almost any harsh feeling, rage jealosy, meanness... can come on like a storm. And I just intend to aim for the eye, with faith, and vooooooosh! It moves, fast, on, out, reduced to neutral, sometimes I even get it into joy.

The only problem is, as much as I can transform, more seems to come.

I've sat for half an hour and moved these feelings almost continousouly. Blessedly, after I get into the practice of it, I cease to feel the rage itself. It all becomes simple energy. Feeling, discomfort, focus, shift, gone.

And then another.

there is this incredible balance to be struck, where my psyche, the ego of this life, however shattered and forelorn, learns to trust that I can indeed move through these feelings. Anguish is not necessary. Terror needn't even spend a moment. these feelings will not take me over.

But they will keep coming back.



I often feel like I'm cleaning up the collective space. I'm astral travelling in these moemtns, and cherry picking rage out of the people around me. I get it early, I shave it like ever growing hair - and I get it before it pokes out and trys to rule. I'm a Gaian Algae, transmuting polluted lakes of consciousness... I'm a hueman dolphin, clearing the psychic space for us to come to life in pods.

We can't accept our interconnections just yet, there is too much pain in the way.

I'm cleaning it.

Is this a copout? bullshit? Avoidance?

I don't know.

when my grandfather died - the other grandman of mi famia, I cleared his study. It was in the basement. He long called it the holiest of holies. It was a dark joke nobody else laughed at.

and I slept there that night. It was kinda a territorial statement I suppose. Questionable choice...

The demons came.

now its all well and good for you to not believe in demons. I don't have that luxury - I know they are real. I'm well aware my interpretations of them are skewed, but living in doubt just don't work.

They are alive.

Back then, in that room, the ones who came... well they didn't want to live. I had the profound impression that my grandfather had been a life long demon slayer, and that they came to him to die.

And that I was supposed to follow in his steps.

And that I sort of have.



Mine is the edge. the balance between deep faith that I can move through, and focus, to prevent more from coming in too fast, to be the dance, between, to regain my freedom to choose how to act and think and feel throughout my day.

And I'm not doing it well enough for my taste.

I shake way too much. It is ninety percent chosen, in time. Its more like going to the bathroom really, because I CAN hold it for a while, but after a while, its gotta move.

I do most of it off by myself. When I shudder in front of others, I usually cough, or spin, or stretch. Weaving the strange surge into more normal flashes of movement. Perhaps it mostly goes unnoticed.

Katia suggested that the reason I'm still stuck in the cycle of it all, is that I haven't gone deep enough in my practices.



This feels very true. But the next step in my practices is to share. To guide, to show others how to work with their bodies, and focus, and move through... but I don't know how to where who when, yet.

Its this amazing relationship, where I can teach some, but honestly, I haven't a clue where this is all headed. Okay I have clues...

I am swimming at the edge of a sea. New? Long forgotten? whichever, it feels rather open, and empty of humans as of yet. Perhaps I'm just not seeing clearly.

I often love it here.



I need to go deeper into my song, and into my body. I am sure these energy shifts can be expressed differently. they can BE a cough, or a surge of sound. I just have to ride them just so... and twist... and relase, and they become creative, rather than terrifying, or annoying... yesterday I had a visointhat gaia has just been showing me the roots, so I realize how she incarnates us in a manner that allows us to transform hell as a daily way of life. I had to feel hell to truly believe it used to be that bad.

And we are through, already, from birth.



I lifted from headstand to handstand without upper support. just once yesterday, I allowed the subtle shift back from my head to my hands to be a surge up, and my hands become paws, and my focus keeps still enough, and up I went. I'd like to do push ups this way, twelve or so...

I AM deep in my practices! Yet its alwaysmore. I'm driven by this balance between riding the esdge, and reaching for a deeper edge. Thus far, my assertion to go deeper has solidly prevailed over relaxing into the joy of it all. My mind just flips... I aimgine how I'll feel if I do THAT and then when I learn to do THAT, I immediately get a deeper THAT to aim for. but this stalls me out, because I have so many edges at this point that my goals, if you mapped them, would look like a mandala flowering everywhere. there is only momentum to spread... the surges, the fire, the joy, the movement.

Sometimes when I sing I feel a disembodied spirit singing through me. Its tempting to consider such consciousness as very wise in relations to huemanity, however that doesn't seem to alwways be the case. Its also not necessarily malicous. Its just... different. Other... not aware of what it is to be hueman.

And in its passion, it really doesn't always care abuot the body. We live in vibrations that are quite meaningless to certain other beings, and thus they do not quite care about the same limits that we do. put your whole foot in the fire. let the coals slide over the toes. So what? ITs just fire...

Go deeper? Holy mother they are crazy out here! I just want to drink my Mate and show off my headstands!

but the balance is off. Its forcing my edge on in. I can't sit around shaking off all these surges. I want to breathe them in deep, and be so focused that I learn how to distribute the rising pranic force into my cells, into the deep Marrow of my bones. Elementals may not honor the fucking body, but I sure do. that is the grace of it, to conenct, to make love with beings that are so distant from what we 'are', and allow the experience to deepen my relationship to myself.

With this life. With this body.

Gaiad me to trust myself, my body, this Earth and her breeze and breathe and gravity. To honor the fire, to feel the balances, and to allow them to carry me further within. I forced myself to step through those coals, I felt the call for sure, and I felt my body off. I was tripping on things. I bumped into a log. I had the signs I wasn't ready.

I only got a couple of blisters.

See? This is all me, the surge AND the fear, the caution AND the exuberance. Walk in balance, breathe in balance, act!

There is no need to force. I'll always hear SOMETHINg calling me past the edges I'm riding. I can' whine and complain about it, like I can shut off the life all around. simply stay clear in my way. The way that you create with me Gaia, and honor thislife, and let it breathe me.

And when the fire calls me past my edge? why how about I smile, and blow it a kiss, and embrace the agua. cause that elementals sure ain't about to jump in our pond.

Pussies.

I'll learn to tease them, and I don't give a damn who believes they are real. I'll even let the anger in that... fade.

I believe in this Love.

My actions are a language. The more I honor my body and voice, the more I can trust my  life. I love very well..

I choose to deeply enjoy the experiences I am having. I often place my mind in a performance with many people, when the prayerformance of the moment is absolutely perfect. I choose to surrender to now, and allow the joy to birth.

I have used an inner critic as a mechanism to push myself further. It was function while nothing else got me moving. It is maladaptive now.

I choose to allow its inner chi to transform into a balance with my exploration, helping me to discern when I need slow, back off, or otherwise easse into the moment, and the joy of each breathe.

For a long while I have been freestyling my feelings, focusing on prayers and learning to sing them through my body. Feeling the vibrations jsut before they manifest as words, and channelling them through with grace, as best I can. My mind has learned to dance these frequencies, to be sharp while my voice speaks, reaching to call in, and to receive, the words and feelings that fully express what I'm bringing to life in the moment.

I am ready to share now, and will keep recording and posting with the Moon cycles. These are not 'songs' so to speak. I'll  never sing them again as they are... and they aren't supposed to b e 'perfect'. The challenge and joy is to ride the edge, to be in the moment of creation and then surrender it back into the world.

This is how I pray.

It can be a little nerve racking. I often use a repeated chorus, that I can settle in, and focus. This time I used 'People of the Earth Tribe Rise' from a passionate gift of Joules Graves. Thank you for the gifts you bring the world sister, may health and joy fill you to the bone.