Monthly Archives: December 2012

Love: Quantifying the Unquantifiable


The following post was completely inspired by my all-time favorite blogger, Mr. M (also known as the Great SprinklinThoughts). He happens to be my spiritual brother — my only brother — and a powerful human being with this mad-crazy, uncanny grip on all things meaningful. His recent piece moved me, and challenged me to dig deep deep down into the center of who I am — and examine just exactly what I’m made of. Read his post, and share your thoughts with him on his blog.

“Saying I Love You” by SprinklinThoughts

Then, if you’re still free for a second or two, swing back by here and let me know what you think.

Here is what I had to say in response to the question SprinklinThoughts inspired, “Why do we water down ‘love’?” (To paraphrase; why are we afraid to say ‘I love you’?)

There are two forms of love (this is the duality of love); worldly love, and spirit love. We could also look at is as conditional love, and agape love. Or human love, and divine love. Or limited love, and infinite love.

While there are undeniably a few highly enlightened human beings who have mastered an understanding of limitless, unconditional, divine agape love, there is an inescapable humanness in the application, or expression of that kind of love.

Due to the limitations of our carnal nature, even the most pure and holy of men will somehow fall short in the expression of agape love.

I find this motivating, however — not debilitating — to our practice of walking in this kind of love; speaking of this kind of love; holding on dearly to this sacred kind of love. We cannot run from purity just because perfection is unobtainable; that is all the more reason to pursue it doggedly; unabashedly; wildly, with all we’ve got.

People shy away from what they cannot comprehend. People are trepidatious of the unfamiliar… And in the case of “I love you,” everyone on the receiving end typically asks the internal question “Okay, what is this person wanting from me?” Tragic, that we have allowed our spirits to become so guarded and skeptical; and yet in this greedy and heartless culture we have collectively created for ourselves, it is the most practical and protective measure we subconsciously take to prevent any possible vandalization of what small sacredness we have managed to retain within ourselves.

I say we rise up and teach the world how to love again. How to love without demand, without expectation, without reason or justification.

I say we return to the holiness from which we came, and dwell in the vibration of agape sincerity, and give it without hesitation or reservation — and do it OFTEN.


Death? Or Life? …is but a dream within a dream.


So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
–F. Scott Fitzgerald

After falling asleep last night, I experienced my own death — a painfully numbing experience, for a dream.

I woke from a dead sleep only to discover it wasn’t me lying there, sleeping; it was my lifeless body, an empty shell of unfulfilled expectations; left exposed, lying empty, silent and undiscovered on the abandoned shore of my early age.

I no longer had a home there, in that body. Those feet were no longer mine. Those eyes would no longer see all the magic in a life that I was once so foolish to call my own. All that magic; all that spellbinding beauty and treacherous awe. The restless mind behind those big brown eyes: for once, at last, was resting. Resting; still. And still yet, no longer mine.

Sometimes, to evolution, we can be a most impervious creature. I was proof. I never did get beyond much of the rudimentary aspects of my own humanness; and yet, even in death I would come to find something perfect about this; rudimentary can be profound.

No matter now.

I began pacing; pacing the walls and pacing the emotions, a simultaneous-somehow endeavor; all of those familiar confinements to which I had spent my life so mindlessly, obliviously imprisoned.

Pacing now, pacing. But this isn’t what is supposed to happen; where is the big bright light? Where is the sense of peace — and finality? Aren’t all of my dead loved ones supposed to greet me on a cloud?

I attempt to get dressed only to find a deep and bitter longing; rather than a phantom limb, a phantom body haunts the soul of me raw. How radically self-obsessed human beings are! The irony now doubles me over. Imagine it. The body you once had; the bed in which you once birthed dreams; the person you thought yourself so surely to be, made of fingers and toes and ideas and breaths taken; these all haunt us after we die. What can we haunt? We don’t become spirits — we always were spirits. We release the physical things to which we clung for so long — and that is what is “haunting”.

I take a gander in my gardens. Winter has undressed them haphazardly, like a man too eager for his bride’s modesty to be saved. Geraniums — neon fuscia and fluorescent-red-orange and yellow-orange too — these are in full bloom. As if to laugh violently at my swift misfortune. It is December 8th. Thirty-five degrees outside. I scraped ice off my car yesterday morning; yet the ice could not rob my geraniums of their splendor. Still, these geraniums too were no longer mine.

Did you know they are considered an early spring flower? Not late spring; not early summer; not mid-summer or late summer or early autumn or fall; and yet… They are at the peak of their season.

A glorious display of sense that can’t be made.

This is a perfect example of divine synchronicity. As if the Majestic God of Love is hinting to your soul, “Are you paying attention? Have you ever really felt love?”

God’s whispered truth is everywhere. He weaves His wonders and His eternities into the fabric of our days like Savador Dali painted his insanity on blank canvases. Funny thing about that: most of the great creators — Vincent van Gogh, Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allen Poe, Franz Kafka, Henry David Thoreau, Johann Sebastian Bach, F. Scott Fitzgerald — knew nothing of their own greatness in their lifetime. Some of the most gifted artists and writers, the souls who came into this world to make it more beautiful for the rest of us were the ones tortured endlessly by oceans and tidal waves of doubt and self loathing, and genius that bordered the wavering boundary between prodigy and lunacy.

Succumbing to the weakened atmosphere of calm, I find myself gently opening my eyes, startled by the brightness of that Eastern piercing sunrise through my bedroom window.

Slowly, quietly, as the house is still sleeping, I make my way to my wardrobe.

My jeans have never felt so wonderful.

I decide to have my coffee on the front patio; I haven’t seen my flowerbeds in months.

As I glance over, I catch sight of my geraniums — tucked in-between dead canna leaves I failed to prune — and wouldn’t you guess… they are in full bloom.

The most beautiful song in the world will end this piece perflectly. Click here to listen.

Who, me?


Compliments make me feel like a fish on a bicycle; however, it’d be a slight of hand (or slight of character) not to humbly accept the following awards, giving credence to the crazy folks who chose me. So…

Wayward Spirit and Dutifully Broken have simultaneously nominated me for the Beautiful Blogger Award. Double whammy!

I’m most excited to choose my own seven nominees! But first…

The Rules:
1. Copy the Beautiful Blogger Award logo and place it in your post.
2. Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.
3. Tell 7 things about yourself.
4. Nominate 7 other fellow bloggers for their own Beautiful Blogger Award, and comment on their blogs to let them know.

7 Things About Me

1. I have traveled to and/or lived in 49 of the United States. These journeys both strengthened and weakened my perception of the US as a ‘first world’ country. The South wins for kindness and fried okra; the North wins for breathtaking autumns and manic braniacs; the East wins for dynamic landscapes and resilient people; and the West — well, it holds my heart.

2. Speaking of places I’ve lived: a mental institution. I’m neither proud nor ashamed of that fact. I came out of the five-day experience with a deepened conviction that most “crazy” people are simply the ones who got a little too close to reality at some point, and understood the implications of it just a little too well. Then again, I too went crazy once — so what do I know.

3. I declined a full ride scholarship with my music at a great school out of state to attend an ivy league university instead; during that intense schooling, I double majored in Psychology and Philosophy. One semester shy of graduating, I withdrew and started a family. The reason still escapes me. I’ll finish my degrees… Someday.

4. I have a debilitating problem with untextured cotton. I’m serious. If you don’t like me, all you’ve got to do is come after me with a cotton ball. It makes me puke — literally; I can’t even use q-tips. The sensation of it sends phobic-chills down my spine. I’ve been this way since infancy. Embarrassing and inexplicable. I’m a whackjob.

5. I was vegetarian for five years. Now (five years later) I fish, hunt, and clean (prepare) the meat with my own hands. That’s why I avoided meat for so long; mass production of consumer-ready animal products is atrocious. Don’t look into it unless you’re prepared for a big life change. It will haunt you.

6. I studied martial arts for 13 years (total), and I once used roller skates (quads, not blades) instead of my car. For almost a full year, I roller skated my way to work, the store, the park, the doctor, etc. I miss it. But since I can’t exactly skate my litter of children to school, practicality wins.

7. My favorite color is yellow. I’ll settle for any color, however, when it comes to my tennis shoes — as long as they’re fluorescently colored. Some women collect Gucci; I collect rainbows.

And now…

I Nominate These 7 Blogs

1. SprinklinThoughts He ain’t heavy; he’s my brother. Love acquires a new dimension every time this spiritual creature gets out of bed in the morning. With or without his coffee, he can dumbfound, endear, and motivate your every last inhibition. I learned how to swim in these waters.

2. Travis the Traveler Kindred spirit. His machete-mind slices through every last preconceived notion like a dagger of discernment, and yet has the purest voice of reason. He’s humble, yet brilliant. Truth can cut you gently; he’s proof.

3. Thomas Ross There’s a mysterious human being with intergalactic abilities of understanding; I found myself fortunate enough to have been his brief — yet sharp — point of focus. It left me breathless. It doesn’t take much for him to capture your spirit, your attention, and your respect.

4. Jennifer Stuart The only thing missing is a complimentary holographic latte. Otherwise, this blog is supremely reminiscent of utopia, in cyber-earth. (Well, a virtual massage might be nice too, but you can only demand so much from divinity.) She is a bohemian spirit with bodacious, bright-eyed thought processes. An inspired human being.

5. Alarna Rose Gray If my heart were to break in an unrecoverable way, I would turn to this woman and find out what she had to say. Her pulse comes from the expansion of the universe.

6. The Girl in the Hat Her ideas have their own poetry. Her brain will bring you back to life; have writer’s block? Her words can fix that. Ever find yourself stifled by the monotonies of day to day living? I often take my breaks from reality here. She’s cool people.

7. Dana Fuhrman The world is not as small as you might think. For example, this lady has been to far away lands and has done the most breathtaking things; and yet, she is merely a woman with the very same human nature to which the rest of us (less enlightened) creatures often succumb. She inspires and challenges me.

She’s a Bad MammaJamma


I’ll spare you the redundancy of excessively excited adjectives this time, and restrain my holy-woahness on behalf of the sheer caliber of this crazy smart and wildly gifted woman. Simply this:

If you’re interested in the discovery of powerful new blogs to follow, you’ll revel in this priceless jewel. Once I update my blogroll, she’ll own it. Love, squared. Infinitely.

click right here —> the girl in the hat

Today’s Vibe. Dig it.


If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth, only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.
–C. S. Lewis

Although the roads wind themselves around our peace, and juxtaposition us against our own ego at times, there is no greater triumph than the small victories we make — step by step — within our souls. Be unafraid of the obstacles, and encouraged along your way. This day is all we’ve got. Live it well. Live it fully. Live it humbly, but live it loud.