(volume 40 maybe...we'll see)

no more dung to shovel
no more pork to chop
finale of trouble
final petal drop

headbanging on this wall
sustains me no more
losing battles makes me
want to win my war

transitions of every kind possess both pleasure and pain. my so-lovely-it's-scary supermodel child just read me an incredible piece that she wrote about what the last week of the world's existence would be like. wish you could hear it. the last sentence gripped me the most, presumably taking place at the final finality: "and the buzzing glow enveloped them all". wow, i cannot adequately describe the excitement, horror, amazement, terror, and undeniable awe that her words evoked in my heart. giving birth, that's really what it always means, giving birth again and again, in the simple and the profound, in the complex and the cut-and-dried, transitions are always filled with those labor pains and little earthquakes that precede "the buzzing glow". the above excerpt refers to a poem about my own desire for a painful kind of transition, the big one that transitions you away from The Really Big One. you may never read the rest of the work, which outlines more obviously and disturbingly the transition i have in mind (think tom cruise at the end of 'vanilla sky'). but daily, even hourly, i choose to rein myself in for the longer haul, avoiding the big one, so that i can eventually feel "the buzzing glow" of The Really Big One envelope me. that is the hope, the promise, that fuels this struggle to keep struggling.

from the best book: "no discipline is pleasant at the time but painful...later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."

LYRICALERT

on that day, i'll shout my freedom loud and strong
on that day, my soul will sing its finest song
on that day, i'll live in joy where i belong
on that day, my chains will all be gone

someone died that i hardly knew, yet the impact cut me to the core. this is part of a lyric that burst forth from the psychic buildup of inner shock and sorrow. we had only a few moments of acquaintance, but the quality of them easily led me to believe we would have become great friends at the rate we were going. suddenly losing someone only 36 years old who had so much more to say and play is just an unnatural sensation. he played the sax...you might say, and pardon the cliche but it's perfect, he had phenomenal sax appeal. our encounters gave witness to a remarkable simpatico between us, musically and non-musically. and now the reprogramming begins: no more running into "gangbusters" downtown--that was my name for him, and anyone who knew him for more than 30 seconds can testify to its appropriateness, no more improvisational give and take, no more of that one-of-a-kind magic, so briefly glimpsed, yet so powerfully and unforgettably experienced. bye gangbusters, you really are In His Presence now, shouting your freedom loud and strong, playing your soul's finest song, living in joy where you belong, with all your chains finally forever gone.

this has been brewing for a few days, and i "hope" you will be impacted by the metaphor. it's so strange to see our icons leave this world, and i had to go somewhere with my random musings, so why not here? "hope" to see you in the big town, bob; this one's for you...

today, hope died
bob, that is

hope drew my attention to
the bright side, the goofy side
hope transformed my thoughts
to flying up from falling down
hope brought teeny unexpected
smiles and chuckles
hope taught me about humor
and its power as a coping tool
hope helped me and all of us
hang on in times of war
all kinds of war
hope showed me how to
cherish and reminisce
hope modelled class
and grace under pressure
hope distracted me from doldrums
and gave me giggles instead
hope replaced my blahs
with ha-ha's
hope was a pillar, a wonder, a star
hope sprinkled joy dust into this clay jar

today, hope died
bob, that is

as i was approaching the soul danger zone
in mercy, you tossed me a two-sided bone
on the verge of numbness to the nth degree
in wisdom, you had alternate plans for me

one side was a trip to smokey joe's cafe
an invitation to shake, shout, and sashay
an opus of frenzy i don't touch too often
an effort to avoid the sad joyless coffin

the other side was a glimpse of a dreamcoat
that kept my titanic much longer afloat
choosing forgiveness and faith over hate
joseph turned out to be quite a soulmate

it could be a prelude of a brand new start
or the last blast of passionate joy from my heart
but i'll always be thankful that down from your throne
you tossed belladonna a two-sided bone

that's it...i've had it...i've been pushed to my limit of pop music disgust, and i'm about to do some serious ragging, so fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy blog!

"baby if you give it to me, i'll give it to you, i know what you want, you know i got it..." cooed in breathy desperation for a hit by none other than the possessor of one of the greatest vocal treasures in pop history, miss mariah carey, who could marry those beautiful vocal cords to any number of worthwhile songs, yet resorts to the ashanti school of minimum talent, maximum paycheck recording. sorry suckers, i'm a bit miffed by this. in a recent interview with jay-z and 50-cent, they talked about how we've got to just face it, the world wants sex, drugs, and violence in their songs, so it's about supplying the seedy demand for trash. sorry suckers, i'm a bit miffed by this. i challenge you to listen to casey kasem or rick dees sometime and check out the pitiful excuses for art that we are being fed for the sake of you know what...ka-ching! where are the artists who are truly aspiring to the utmost levels of creativity to uplift the human spirit? where are the revolutionaries who seek to rise above the smog of the recording industry landscape?

i love music. i love the arts. i love the power they contain to impact our worlds and the big world for greatness and positivity and healing and fun and truth and peace. to be blunt, i am seeing the prostitution of beautiful raw creativity day after psychic-debris-filled day. i despise hearing astonishing...excuse me but that busta/mariah song just came on as i'm typing this...how poetic is that? that's like the dark spirits trying to spit in my face and distract me from typing the truth. well it ain't gonna work, babies. now as i was saying, i DESPISE hearing astonishing God-given talent like Christina Aguilera and many others, uniting the power of their phenomenal instruments with the equivalent of artistic pigslop.

i'm going over to a little eastside park to teach some kids about music tomorrow. what a challenge to meet them where they are at...singing their juvenile praises of pigslop...to take them where they need to be...at a better place of greater artistic fulfillment, at least for one moment in time. we will play games, laugh--i hope, act crazy, and ultimately give our attention to a different kind of artistic approach, that rises above the "casting pearls before swine" syndrome.

now my girl beyonce is on. lest you think i dis all da pop out dere, let me tell you that one of my new faves is miss beyonce, a huge talent, who always seems glamorous rather than gaudy, stable rather than sleazy, and just exuding a joy and inner glow through her performances. and she is really aspiring to be a whole and complete talent, exploring different artistic styles and mediums, as well as composing and producing. that's a strategy i can get behind 100%.

believe me, i have so-o-o-o much more to say on this subject, but for now i will end with one last anecdote. i went to an inner city park last night and did a little concert. as i was chatting up the kids, attempting to interact with them and connect with their culture, we talked about songs they liked. they even wanted to come to the microphone and be stars themselves for a moment. so i said fine, as long as you can choose a song that has lyrics that i will like...meaning non-profane, non-obscene, non-gangsta, non-thug, non-bump and grind. guess what...none of us could even think of any that would pass my test, so none of them got to come up to the mike. if that doesn't strike you as at least a little bit sad, then i'd like to congratulate you on receiving my "numb and dumb" award. please slap yourself, pour water over your head, anything to wake up and realize how foolishly we're squandering and surrendering the awesome forces of art, and watching our children turn into foulmouthed porn-flick supporters right before our eyes. no i am unfortunately not exaggerating. that is what we're seeing right now, and i'm sick of it. let the record show, i am devoting my life to the utter annihilation of crap that was supposed to be creativity. it grieves me to the core of my being every time i smell the repulsive stench of compromise in music and all of the arts. so i guess if i decide to stay in this whacked-out world, i'm going to have to be a force for the complete elimination of this vomitous compromise. stay tuned...there's plenty more where this came from. sorry fence-sitters and apathetic non-wavemakers, i can no longer be silent about such critically important matters. go ahead and rationalize if that makes you feel better, but when you find yourself immersed in a vat of rancid artistic jelly, don't come running to me. i'll be safely ensconced on my mountaintop of idealism, tossing down postcards to the masses below that say, "having a WONDERFUL time--wish you were here, BUT YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE, AND YES, I DEFINITELY TOLD YOU SO!"

(currently unavailable in a poetry volume -- maybe #40 eventually)

i just heard his sons are supposedly dead
i'm alarmed at my joy in the face of this dread
i know he's been evil and killed a multitude
but smiling at this tragedy just seems rude
nobody wins within a war game
no one can stay obliviously the same
i grieve the options of long long ago
when compassion thwarted the rash overthrow
when relationships were tended with care
instead of mistreating our kin over there
and millions of lost loveless moments have led
to this season of lying in conflict's bed
i guess i'm referring to more than just us
or myself or him or the hothead fuss
i grieve the option above every other
the greatest response of loving one another
what does love mean in such a twisted mess
maybe it means grieving more and gloating less
maybe it means remembering what matters
instead of rejoicing when foes writhe in tatters
i know it's a fight we're itching to win
but let's take time to define victory again

LYRICALERT

when you look at me, what do you see
and how will you remember me
a detour or your destiny
the way things were supposed to be
the face that used to smile for you
the eyes that used to shine for you
the love that used to see you through
who's gonna see you through now?

the average person will not be able to guess who/what these words are about. that's just as well because i can hardly embrace their existence myself. old song...they say that breaking up is hard to do, now i know, i know that it's true, don't say that this is the end, instead of breaking up i wish that we were making up again. breaking up, making up, those are the tides of life. and although the tides get high, i'm still holding on, 'cause i'm gonna be my own number one. ps--i dare you to try and beat me in the red box music version of trivial pursuit!

LYRICALERT

i can't speak for you, my friend
but i can take care of myself
i've wasted too much precious time
sittin' on the zombie shelf
so believe me when i say
i know, i know what it's like
but i got some advice to give
so you can begin to live
so straighten up your heart and fly right

it's time for you to
do something unexpected
don't just stand there unaffected
surprise your soul with an attitude of love
get a taste of revival, you might like it

dictionary.com defines revival as "a restoration to use, acceptance, activity, or vigor, after a period of obscurity or quiescence." that's further affirmation that "revival" is a word with my name on it. hope you can say the same, friend; and let's all get off our zombie shelves for good. there's a difference between pausing for self and pausing on a shelf.

(from manifest mystery volume #35)

born in pain, i relied
on my instinct to get by
it did not help me deal
with being BLACK

born as jewel, blessing tree
soul dysfunction tarnished me
it revealed wounds unhealed
from being BLACK

all the good, all the bad
all the lies that drove me mad
all the colorquest confusion
that the bloodlines never had
but when i find life redefined
there is joy transcending sad
so phenomenal am i
wondrous power gets me high

born to fly beside you
in the sky with love so true
i am free, i am proud
to be BLACK

(from manifest mystery volume #36)

love is like a little death
its wind dispels the selfish breath
and rocks the kingdom i had planned
that's when i start to understand...

wow, this excerpt grips my guts and bears witness as caustic, killing truth. have you ever experienced the agony of love? how about the glory of love? i can hear that old song in my head...you got to give a little, take a little, and let your poor heart break a little. that's the story of, that's the glory of love. boy, if it were only that simple. maybe it is...

i like this little desperation musing...it comes from some really deep places, and i surprised myself at how poignant it became as it sprung to life right after the death of a tv icon:

(from manifest mystery volume #38)

solitary fingertips
reaching out for phantom grips
imagination runs wild
bumming out my inner child

saw that mister rogers died
condolences to his bride
now that she is on her own
that means we are both alone

tinted glasses taint all views
wet perception warps all views
no matter what it might be
it's about the tears of me

cheddar chips won't soothe the plight
of a bloody hard day's night
no supply for soul demands
of these bloated unheld hands

fifth of july...red, white, and blue withdrawal. call me non-patriotic, but that color combo appeals to me far less than it did before. please don't misunderstand, i feel blessed in many ways to live in america, i am thankful for the freedom and abundance we have here. but in the last few years, the deepest gravitation of my heart is toward things global, and not just our own back yard. i think pride in your team, family, or cause is to be embraced and commended, but not not not at the expense of seeing the bigger picture, the greater principle. it brings me down when i think of my/our american overconsumption compared to the hunger elsewhere in the world. it brings me down when i think of my/our avoidance and/or apathy toward gross oppression and suffering elsewhere in the world as i sit in the comfortable quality of life i call poverty and the rest of the world would call paradise. it brings me down when i sense this attitude of supremacy and superiority when we really have so much to learn from the ways of the rest of our so-called poorer earth-citizens. it brings me down, but ultimately lifts me way up, to gradually snap out of certain programmed responses that have kept me in false, frozen paradigms for way way way too long. i will be very candid and state that overblown campy pseudo-patriotism is in that category for me. my gratitude is sky-high for the extraordinary life sacrifices made by our soldiers past and present. but i have come to believe that a certain line gets crossed, and what should have stayed as healthy, enriching, perspective-filled pride erupts into this volcano of propagandous mush. go ahead and give me a mid-year bah-humbug if you wish, but these are my authentic fifth of july reflections, and the kaleidoscopic colors of the world are far more beautiful to me than red, white, and blue. to end this on a lighter note, get a vision from one of my songs from "joseph and the amazing technicolor dreamcoat" that i'm currently performing. picture a world of "red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and peach and ruby and olive and violet and fawn and lilac and gold and chocolate and mauve and cream and crimson and silver and rose and azure and lemon and russet and gray and purple and white and pink and orange and blue." that's what i call moving from a fourth to a fifth of july mentality. it's a mysterious adjustment process, but i like it, and i'll still gladly suck on a sweet red, white and blue frozen bomb pop once a year in honor of the holiday.

may you live for the best reasons
faith, hope, and love
may you give at the best levels
beyond and above
may you fly the rapturous skies
that frightened fools forgot
may you cry when it's appropriate
and even when it's not
may you shine your silly strange light
in each dark land
may you find wisdom and wildness
strolling hand in hand
may you know that you can succeed
even when you fail
may you go where there is no path
and leave a trail

my continual best wishes for everyone in my little world, and God's BIG WORLD. be blessed, y'all!

smokey joseph--part 1--smokey!

my experience as a part of the des moines playhouse production of "smokey joe's cafe" gave me so much growth and insight. here is my feeble attempt to capture just a few of the lessons from this marvelously catalytic time. 5 distinct phases emerged in the tina process for this project, phases that can be applied on and off the diva stage.

phase 1--badness
at the beginning of a new endeavor we all have to start somewhere. i think of nicole kidman in my favorite role of hers in the film "to die for". she's attempting to sell herself "like gangbusters" for a job at a tv station, and although the position is only for a glorified gopher, she says "do you have any idea where edward r murrow started?...well, neither do i, but i don't think it was at the top, do you?"
so it's a healthy thing to go through being at the flatline, zero knowledge, needing 100% training, quite simply...badness. in the show, it was dauntingly humbling for someone of my age to go back to school in some ways, after being increasingly affirmed and embraced as a pro. it was so beneficial for me to work through this phase and be forced out of resting on my laurels of laziness.

phase 2--basic
this is where you find out what you're really made of, your inherent wiring, your initial responses, your natural impulses. it was a serendipitous thrill to observe myself reacting to all the newness surrounding me, new musical material, new people, new sights, sounds, and exotic fragrances of the sacred space called theatre. it was one of those times where i said thanks to God because although i'm not where i want to be, i've definitely come a long way from where i was in the past, and my basic instincts were great evidence of that (and great reminders of how far i still aspire to grow).

phase 3--building
so if basic instinct was the foundation, the building phase was next, and so incredibly formative. i pushed myself in refining and tweaking ways to develop and expand my abilities, vocally, physically, socially, etc. they say there is one room that has no ceiling, the room for improvement. so it was time for me to push my long unchallenged artistic boundaries, technical, philosophical, and otherwise, to give birth to a performance i will always remember fondly with pride.

phase 4--building plus
self plus shepherding, critique, and strategically chosen tools and resources. this was not the time to declare myself beyond the help of others. this is a pivotal ingredient most of us miss out on in our attempts to deal with the issues of our lives. i was fortunate to be in a situation where the assistance of other people, places, and things was absolutely essential. this forced me to step out of myself, and become open and receptive to the wise advice of outsiders (most importantly, my director, who was nothing less than sensational).

phase 5--building super plus
self plus resources plus the magic of the audience presence in the moment. this combustive interaction provides a whole new layer of sparkle that you just can't get otherwise as a performer. in life, that's called relationships. that's called divine encounters. that's called rubbing up against the rest of the human race on a daily basis, being transformed by the touches. it's funny how i thrive so much on that special kind of audience energy in the performance setting, but rarely tap into it off stage in my personal life, and in fact, sometimes go out of my way to avoid it at all costs. but the more i let myself be transformed by this abandonment of control and loss of expectation, the more i...well, i've just got to say it...the more i thrive in joy!

being in the show was such a blessing to me for so many reasons. i could recount story after story of the memories and precious moments. my way-too-short visit to smokey joe's cafe was well worth the trip.

the vinegar of dealing
with soul disharmony
confounds the honey wish
for holistic destiny
tasting the bitter fragments
of spoiled incompleteness
continually thwarts love
and poisons happiness

a brief poetic word that sums up so much of what i am constantly consumed with, all my seemingly impossible dreams of wholeness and integration, in life, in love, in art, in faith. this truly is one of my magnificent obsessions. any thoughts to me on this subject are especially welcomed, so seek me out, you truth-seeking soulmates!

from the juicy prolific psyche of the ranting non-diva...recent excerpts from my future poetic anthologies:

excerpt 1 -- from 38:
there's a new game in town, and it's called beat the clock
not easy for those of us who've been around the block...

...the ticking torments me with angst-ridden regret
but this non-fat lady will sing, so don't count me out yet

excerpt 2 -- from 39:
there is something to be said for just living
and not analyzing everything into the ground
there is something that brings comfort in just being
and bucking the system in which we're bound
there is something really cool about just chilling
and learning to relax, go with the flow
there is something extra wise about just breathing
and knowing that it's okay not to know

my prayer for us all: breathe...chill...be...live

wow, i've got so many thoughts to share, but with a crashed computer and a consuming schedule, i've been a little preoccupied elsewhere. but i couldn't resist sharing a piece of our recent "sweet sixteen" celebration with the world. dove, i love you...

16 Things I Love About DOVE

1. her devotion to her friends
2. her attention to health and fitness
3. her sense of style
4. her articulate way of communicating
5. her kindness
6. her voice, speaking and singing
7. her artistry and creativity
8. her laughter
9. her grace and forgiveness for my many screw-ups
10. her gentleness
11. her stride when she walks
12. her cosmetic expertise (inherited from me of course)
13. her intelligence and deep thoughts
14. her eyes
15. her smile
16. absolutely everything else!

Happy Birthday to my Sweet Sixteen year-young peace child - you are even more miraculous than ever!

"i used to feel those guardian angels in the skies; but those angels have become like ghosts before my eyes; and every line of every song i thought i knew; has left me standing empty and cold without a clue; here in the dark...," from a new composition called "faith in the dark" by me

existing in what seems to be a wisdom-less state is akin to being severely fastened with a shoddy rope to a scratchy pole. after a few attempts to dislodge my soul from this "paradise"; some attempts pathetically haphazard, others positively herculean; it feels best for me to just stand for a while. any more struggling while in this disgraceful condition known as "beyond my wit's end", and i will metamorphose into a monster akin to the incredible hulk's twin sister. today i connect with the biblical ranting of a faithful yet flawed man called job (especially in these scriptures: job 10:18-22 and job 12:13-25). job's story gives me some hope and comfort because here's a guy who hardly ever did anything wrong, and yet lost everything in a God-initiated avalanche of affliction. talk about "why do bad things happen to good people", here's an extremely prime example. so as my inquiring mind tapdances along with my fingers across this keyboard, i ponder the fate of the longsuffering mr. job, the fate of our peace-deprived world, and the fate of me--both longsuffering and peace-deprived. and like those big words flashing on the screen during those old batman tv shows (zowie!), three letters from this keyboard fly across the path of my oppressed but still sparkly eyeballs. L. A. B. which further expand out to the words Learning, Affirming, and Breathing. contorted upon an aged and jagged pole seems like an unlikely location for any of those three words to be accomplished with any degree of excellence. but here i stand in wisdom-less stillness, LEARNING how to learn, AFFIRMING my own need for affirmation, and BREATHING the succulent force that keeps me and the world turning, the potently anonymous power we call breath. so what? what good is esoteric rhetoric to a soul on a pole? "be still and know that I am God...silence is golden...stop and smell the roses...let go and let God...," and all those annoyingly applicable axioms intermittently stream across my consciousness like rolling horizontal internet broadcasts. yet today only three words stick. a "soul pole" moment is indeed a LAB, a place of experimentation and education, where i LEARN (as reluctance gives way to relief), i AFFIRM (as self-pity gives way to serenity--i mean the kind that is nitty-gritty rooted in the trenches of firsthand weedpruning, not the namby-pamby vacant sloganeering of certain industries of "deep thoughts with Jack Handey" pap crap), and finally i BREATHE, as toxicity gives way to truth, and a silent song emerges with lyrics like: relax, you're ok, you're a mess but you're my child, and you're ok, because i'm in control of this, not you. today in all your soul pole LABs (because after all, every single one of us experiences these sanctuaries of suffering in some form on a daily basis), i wish you learning, affirming, and breathing. i am so weird! and so is my weird ranting! God, I pray that you will make sense of these thoughts and feelings for the healing of hurting hearts, including my own, so that even in the dark places, we will hold on to our faith, and steadfastly refuse to let go.

and once again, this melancholy baby ruefully identifies with today's weather...the startling annoyance of the April snowstorm. driving in the treacherously transformed traffic flow, my life's tv screen has suddenly switched from technicolor to black, white, and murky grey. but even in this i find a fascination. the few colors surviving the burial pop out at me with increased impact, like the little girl's red coat in Schindler's List. and so it is with this season of my life. yuck, i'm annoyed that i used that melodramatic "life season" cliche, but alas, it stands as rock solid truth. anyway, i am gently lifted above the encouragement waterline when i remember that, yes, there are colors that have popped out in this "bliss disguised as blizzard" time. faith flashes, spirit slivers, and tiny bright blossoms of unflinching love perking up from the slushy ground below my trudging begrudging feet. but even amid this winter blunderland, i saw the forecast. it said 60 degrees by the weekend, which seems like an eternity from monday, but a hop, skip, and jump in the context of the whole space-time continuum. so it won't last, and it is melting even as we speak. simply put, i can handle it. this startling annoyance of trauma and tragedy. it's do-able, and i am doing it like a good old heartland tough broad, who is tempered year after blustery year with these events, yet instinctively reacts to them like it's impossible, uncope-able, shockwavy virgin territory. please may i just once get it through my head, "in this world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, i have overcome the world," says Jesus, the One I've supposedly given my life to, and the Reliable One I supposedly trust wholeheartedly. yes, April snowstorms happen, and i am surprised by non-joy. but i can handle it, i MUST handle it. as my world turns, may the days of my life be ruled by The Guiding Light who reminds me of how bold and beautiful i am meant to be--in the midst of it all, rain, snow, sleet, or hail. spiritually speaking, how we deal with the WEATHER determines WHETHER or not we thrive. this strong-willed Iowa climate continually teaches us the lesson of the great jazz composer Fats Waller: "one never knows, do one." so it is best to keep our snow stamina and strategy as handy as the Burt's Bees Lip Balm under the dashboard. i leave you with musings from a new millenium would-be theologian from a certain paisley park: "sometimes it snows in April, sometimes i feel so bad, sometimes i wish life was never ending, but all good things, they say, will pass." sounds like the artist currently known as prince is a melancholy baby like me.

hello, beautiful people: a little shorty poem today for you. be safe, be well, and be at peace...

HAPPY

happy to be incomplete; happy to not have to rhyme
happy to forgive myself for every needless, careless crime
happy to enjoy the big world; happy to flee little cliques
happy to spin like a gypsy with my mentor stephanie lynn nicks
happy to push past old programming; happy to switch and exhale
happy to win even when i lose as wisdom and healing prevail
happy to just be myself; happy to just be alive
happy to worship without constraint; and abundantly, joyfully thrive

i don't know. do you feel as ashamed as i do saying those words sometimes? and to the most basic questions, like: how are you, how's your day going, what's new with you, how's the job search going, how's the church search going, what's your take on the issues of the day, etc. lately it seems as if every question asked of me at any level of the tinalife provokes this oh-so-valedictorian response...I DON'T KNOW. Remember that movie "Reality Bites" with Winona "let's get past the whole crime crap and remember what a truly fine actress she is" Ryder? When she's standing at the podium speaking as the head of her class at her graduation, and regarding how to face the future, she says "the answer is...i don't know." I'm starting to move past the initial shame of that statement, and onward to the freedom that is found in what theologians call "the cloud of unknowing." it is an exhilarating exhale of grace to realize, it's ok for me not to know. in fact, it is a declaration of the utmost honesty, integrity, and truth. simply put, as the human finite beings we are, we are not capable of possessing complete and meaningful answers to any of life's questions on our own. to this i say, "cool!" because i'm not the mistress of my universe, your universe, or the big weird wild universe in which we live. so next time you are tempted to save face, or dive into a serious image management moment, try being honest. no matter what your combo plate of circumstance is, it is not the time for phony interaction and self-delusion about anything ever again. wake up, me! wake up, you! wake up, us! let's throw up our hands and admit it once and for all, WE DON'T KNOW! Hallelujah, for once we get to that delicious liberty, we get in touch with the one who really does know.

sing, sing a song, sing out loud, sing out strong, sing of good things not bad, sing of happy not sad. sing, sing a song, make it simple to last your whole life long. don't worry that it's not good enough for anyone else to hear. just sing, sing a song. all right now, were you singing? did you get that little ditty going in your head? if only life were as simple as that little song. i believe it could be. what? you've got to be joking? next thing you know, we'll be reading tina's own version of all i needed to know about life i learned in kindergarten. mock if you must, but the answers to our existence are found within the children inside us all. i love it that Jesus was all about that pure, unjaded, unruffled, uncomplicated approach...a sort of "juvenile relinquishment" of worry, stress, and every degree of maleficent hatchetry. not allowing any kind of uptight, degrading, dishonoring, spirit-breaking, dignity-shattering nonsense to enter the zone of abundance. and how does one accomplish this miracle of lifestyle serenity? think back to the playground, the hopscotch on the sidewalk, the corner lemonade stand, the bike rides, the kick-the-can games, and the effortless state of innocence. in my midlife world-weary hindsight, i can see the moments of love, truth, community, and passion, all laying a foundation which i stand on today that refuses to budge as it's nearly beaten to a pulp by hate, lies, isolation, and apathy. as peculiar as this sounds, there is an old child inside me, pleading for a chance to play, to touch, to hug, to bond, to invent, to discover, to love, and to be loved. and that old child just happens to be a soulmate of the greatest old child of all, an ideal prototype human being, who never really embraced adulthood as we define it today. yet in his "juvenile relinquishment", he somehow managed to become the most highly functioning adult who ever walked the good earth. read about him, talk about him, talk to him, be like him, live for him...and find the reasons why you were put on the planet, and what simple songs you are meant to sing out loud and strong.

peace---i'm trying to give it a chance, how about you? and that is not a statement either way on the big topic du jour, yes or no to war in the iraq situation. instead it is simply a declaration that, amid unprecedented ups and downs on every level of my life and the world's life, it truly is time for me to give peace a chance more than ever before. i'm clicking on peace causes, reading peace poetry, going to peace festivals, thinking peace thoughts. i look back on the statement in my last blog entry about my own peace being like the log that grossly supercedes the speck of global war. that is most definitely how i feel, but i must admit, what good is the achievement of a peaceful state of my personal mind and heart, if the world i live in goes needlessly helter-skelter? guess what, i intend to pour my energies in both directions, my heart and the heart of this world. and if wacko unsubstantive haste takes over (in any direction by any party on any side of the war dialogue), let's face it--our hearts will not go on like that titanic song. there won't be enough string quartets on decks around the world to serenade us with "nearer my God to thee" in the face of the tragedy that will undoubtedly follow. so let's unpack that a moment shall we? the opposite of wacko unsubstantive haste is sane substantive slowness. don't get me wrong, there is an undeniable urgency factor present for me and for my globe full of kindred seeking spirits. but me and my globe o'folk need to chill and regroup a little. we are so in need of guidance and mentorship, as sheep in need of a shepherd. we (me and my globe o'folk) are suffering from lack of the things that matter: truth, love, community, passion. those four factors are like legs of a chair that we desperately need to spiritually sit in. break it down, love/truth/community--no passion--chair falls, love/truth/passion--no community--chair falls, truth/community/passion--no love--chair falls, love/passion/community--no truth--chair falls. so how am i doing in these? check with me in a year, wait a second, check with me in a month--i rally within myself even now to not write myself off so flippantly. however, i recognize that i do need time to gently yet aggressively HEAL (there's that paradox again--you love me for these). sometimes you bandage up or put stuff on wounds or do limb therapy to heal. sometimes you just sit, with wounds uncovered, and let things air heal. that's what i am doing these days--air healing. and it is bringing me peace, which is slowly resourcing my 4 deficient chair legs. so how about you world? love in the world?--jaded, conditional, inconsistent. passion in the world?--misdirected, unfocused, or totally locked up and buried (see the movie "adaptation" for a great and creative, off-the-wall lesson about passion). truth in the world?--hidden so far beneath the surface, we can hardly hear it gasping for breath beneath the ever-rising rubble of countless generations. community in the world?--a key healing ingredient for every entity in life, be it politics, government, cities, country clubs, ghettos, the UN, the noisy neighbor upstairs, and in the piety clubs with the word "church" on their signposts yet have little to no resemblance whatsoever to the true meaning of the word "church"--COMMUNITY is the throbbing pulse beneath the shallowness, the tell-tale heart that persistently beckons for reckoning. gee, i'd like to note that my passion chair leg just had a healing moment. let's pray for more healing moments for all our broken chair legs. this is not idealistic spam, it's vital for our titanically toxic hearts to go on in a state of ever-increasing peace. dona nobis pacem, dona nobis pacem, infinity...

fight, fight, fight, fight, collide, collapse, concede. concede? is that really what i'm supposed to do at a moment of collision and/or collapse? i haven't been floating like a butterfly or stinging like a bee...spending more time bee-ing stung than roping dopes. i throw my hands up and say, this dope is roped. this blackbird has passed out in the cage. today, but not forever. look at that, today but not forever. that actually looks hopeful when i read it, and feels hopeful as i silently chant it as breath. driving down the white-trash aspiration hills and along the ethnic desperation yards, hearing the spam of the radio scan search feature, surrounded by miracles and magnificence if i could click on to them. like the opposite of frodo's ring, where he can click across the cosmic line at crucial moments and touch human evil, this is a far-less-developed instinct that i believe we all have--clicking on to the extraordinary, the amazing, the beauty, the hope...everywhere i look outside me...everywhere i look INside me. yes the fight is being played out on many many levels these days. did you read about the handshake man who dodged protocol and gave our president a note claiming God told him there would be 50,000 casualties if our nation did not repent? agree or disagree, it stuns you when you think about it long enough. fight for peace, fight for war, fight for truth, fight for justice, respect, harmony. fight for my way over your way, fight for surviving, let alone thriving. fight for dreams to be released, fight for nightmares to be ceased. fight for my peace, the log superceding the speck of global thermonuclear warfare. my peace...world peace, what can me and the world do? i say again, click on, dare to twitch our noses like samantha and step into another dimension, an undercurrent, a petrifying purifying plethora of transformation and transcendence. when i manage to do this for one brief moment in time, (brief because after all, this is mega-powerful stuff and even frodo didn't last too long in his inside out glimpses) truth kisses and kills me simultaneously like some spiritual spinal tap. i have big problems translating these surges of mega-power into daily life in this transitory love-craving vessel. i saw "the yoofo club" last night, an independently-produced Iowa film which especially lovable quirky-souled malcontents like me should see. in that film, i saw the fight at its fiercest. i see it all around me, i feel it intensifying everywhere. and i have compassion for the battles of others and of this world. i do wish i had more compassion for the battles within my own quirky soul, which are the fiercest and most intense battles of all. say what you will about quirky-soul-to-the-max michael jackson, but one of his songs says it extremely well, "i'm starting with the man in the mirror, i'm asking him to change his ways, and no message could have been any clearer, if you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make that change." God, change me today. kiss me and kill me at the same time. petrify and purify me with love and truth. supercede my visions of glory with provisions of reality, which contains its own brand of glory when it's embraced. be the God of peace in my heart and in this world's heart, more than ever before. peace, peace, peace, peace, dance, heal, transcend. peace is possible, and i seize it gratefully, humbly fighting out the footsteps toward it.

hello to the blogger world--blessings to you all. in the midst of this heartland post-blizzard day, i relate to it, the post-blizzard state. lots of slush, proceeding cautiously, skidding, slowly creeping where you can usually whizz on by, transitional spots especially treacherous, lots of slush, chill to the bone, scraping and kicking and digging out from being covered up and marooned, seeing and feeling your breath more than usual, temperaments warped by the temperature, and did i mention lots and lots of slush. but beyond the immediate, what else do i learn from it? much needed moisture gained, much greater appreciation of sunshine and warmth, much more inner strength after exercising those muscles of character. that's pretty annoying, but true nonetheless. and at least, it just doesn't last that long, and it's never really as bad as it seems in the moment. so what does one do in a time of "melting?" fall back on the knowledge that it's not meant to cripple you. keep moving--inside and out, but be still--inside and out. yoo-hoo, that's a mighty trippy trick, isn't it? yes...BUT NO! you're loving me, right now, aren't you. paradox and swirl are the new absolutes. not really new, but we've arrived at an age where it is imperative to embrace them on all levels--global, national, corporate, relational, emotional, personal, spiritual. what does all this mean...come on now, read your scripts...nothing and everything! here's my wish for you today: in your blizzards, may you melt/in your sunshine, may you chill/if you do not get this now/some sweet day i hope you will.

from the MANIFEST MYSTERY 37 poetic anthology aka non-linear autobiography:

homage to emily d...because i could not stop for life/it kindly stopped for me/grand design of universe's/warped generosity/whilst on and on i ventured forth/fault destined to repeat/bitter interruption reveal'd/the detriment of sweet...no rant and rave today folks - just a little verse to make you think/feel - shake yourself up with these words and see what floats to the top - have fun my friends

oh world, what do i want you to know this chilly day? that you're small, that each of us is small, that each of our lives and concerns is small, and to know that deeply is to have a much more accurate, peaceful, effective perspective on things. is everyone as consumed with themselves as i am? self-absorbed full of me-me-me-me in the midst of this beautiful chaordic world. chaordic equals chaos plus order in case you were wondering. i think everyone should have a globe in their house. somebody please send me a globe of my very own! it's a wonderful reminder of how small we all are, and it gives incredible perspective. like one of my favorite spiritual movies, the truman show, where he finally discovers the truth of the cocoon he's living in, and there's a whole big fat greek and non-greek world outside it. why is this "smallness" a good thing for the world to know? because our lives were never meant to revolve around any one of us, or be so limited in their scope, so non-abundant in their scale. most of us dare to taste about a sliver of what the life experience was meant to offer. why? because once we construct our little demi-god castles and courtyards, our energy for outsiders conveniently runs out. wake up, self! wake up o diva, out of thy slumber, and the truth will set you free! truth which includes open arms, open mind, open heart, open spirit, open to expansion and explosion and examination and ultimately...exhilaration. yes my weird little world is a small one, and i must find ways to connect to the bigger picture, the true truth. otherwise i have nothing left in my days to look forward to except a doomed destiny of sliverhood. i have big big things going on in life, and yes they seem consuming and impossible. but let's vow now to think bigger, higher, wider, wiser. let's not be so full of ourselves that we only taste a sliver. my little wacko world desperately needs injections of the real uncocooned, blockbuster, exhilarating world. even in a maybe war state? especially then. even in a i'd rather commit suicide state? yes yes yes. even in a hopeless black failure mood? you better believe it. i am counting on it. my world is way too self-focused. i am not supergirl, i am not the messiah. i am a misfit who dares to aspire higher...and lower.

what's up y'all? your spirit? your blood pressure? your attitude? your weight? i am up like the Lord is up and i feel my life on the rise. gold star for you if you know from what source i just quoted. choose from these options: 1) you have everything--you are UP; 2) you have nothing--you are UP; 3) you have a combo plate--you are UP, 4) you have everything--you are DOWN; 5) you have nothing--you are DOWN; 6) you have a combo plate--you are DOWN; 7) you have everything--you are a combo plate; 8) you have nothing--you are a combo plate; 9) you have a combo plate--you are a combo plate. all of that was to make you think and reveal this oh-so-profound profundity about myself...i am number nine, my life is number nine, and if most of us were honest, we would admit to the number nine syndrome. as of this moment, the "have" and "are" pendulums have swung wildly to the downside, the place where stuff like this comes to your head---the sista in humble circumstances should take pride in her high position--that's a tina-paraphrase Scripture in James by the way. but in this winter of my discontent, it's a learning time, discovering what my faith in Christ is really all about, and what really really constitutes thriving in joy. "thriving" and "joy" are two words that get tossed around carelessly way too often. so far, as i put my life in the garage and bid the breeze adieu, here's what i'm slowly learning: UP is overrated, DOWN is underrated, the words "everything" and "nothing" have lost their power and meaning and have become warped and defined by shallow societal godlessness, and the true joy...drum roll please...the true joy of life comes from THE COMBO PLATE. Yes, folks, that's life, and more importantly, that's life in Christ, paradox and swirl. i'm grateful that to this party, God invites the tina girl...and all of us who are willing to re-investigate, re-invigorate, re-negotiate, and re-navigate our life together in Christ. i used the singular on purpose. because together we are one great big combo plate, in need of the same truth, the same joy, the same Savior. A mantra is mine at present is "grief is good". lots of loss needs lots of grief to heal us and prevent the total death of joy. guess what, my faith is changing AND staying the same, and the more i see myself and others and situations and this whole wide wacky weird wild world as the combo plates we all are...simply put, i THRIVE in JOY! happy number nine syndrome to us all, and i wish you a combo plate life that is truly thriving in joy.