Sometimes, I think…

“If desire were a immorality…And, imagination, a sin…Where would I be?”


Doubt as sin. — Christianity has done its utmost to close the circle and declared even doubt to be sin. One is supposed to be cast into belief without reason, by a miracle, and from then on to swim in it as in the brightest and least ambiguous of elements: even a glance towards land, even the thought that one perhaps exists for something else as well as swimming, even the slightest impulse of our amphibious nature — is sin! And notice that all this means that the foundation of belief and all reflection on its origin is likewise excluded as sinful. What is wanted are blindness and intoxication and an eternal song over the waves in which reason has drowned.

 ##Friedrich Nietzsche


Truth, Compassion, Forbearance: Falun Gong


falun gong 2

Christianity became a weighted brick upon my poor ankle.  More central to the point, Catholicism, imaged itself as a, catalyst to family values…Family values that shackled my innermost feelings.

It was in the thickest of ‘shame’ I lived.  Adulthood provided, for me, a sink or swim mentality.  A Higher Power seemed a country mile away.  But with grace…we managed to meet in the middle.

  I have pursued a spirituality with no foot hold to anything.  Native American Lore!  Buddhism!  Naturalism!  

At this stage in the game of life, I am not as centered as many.  Yet, there is a daily grasp to uphold the best I can be.

Stumbling upon Falun Gong practices…purely by accident.  I unraveled the simplest of truths.  

Though my country has left me dismayed.  I am not held against my  spiritual will.  I am free to disclose (for now.)  My beliefs do not need to be under constant focus…or under the gun.

It is rare but on occasion, my reverence and where I live…Cause me to understand…Just how fortunate…I am.


Falun Gong…

Nothing more than the mere and simple belief in tolerance, forbearance and compassion.

Simply put…a more intense set of values…set upon the Golden Rule.


There are no fees or formal membership, lack of daily rituals of worship, its greater emphasis on morality, and the theological nature of its teachings.

As a traveler in search of betterment.  This organic philosophy could possibly provide what is much needed in this overcrowded world.  And, my overcrowded life!

Unfortunately, the paranoia of powers far, far away from the land I live in; Do not carry similar beliefs!

Falun Gong practitioners in China are reportedly subject to a wide range of human rights abuses: hundreds of thousands are estimated to have been imprisoned extrajudicially,[3] and practitioners in detention are subject to forced labor, psychiatric abuse, torture, and other coercive methods of thought reform at the hands of Chinese authorities.[4] As of 2009, human rights groups estimated that at least 2,000 Falun Gong practitioners had died as a result of abuse in custody.[5] Some observers put the number much higher, and report that tens of thousands may have been killed to supply China’s organ transplant industry (see Organ harvesting from Falun Gong practitioners in China).[6][7] In the years since the persecution began, Falun Gong practitioners have become active in advocating for greater human rights in China.






a Proper Voice


I have traveled to the edge of icy courtesy.

Hunting for a proper voice.

Friendly foe,

I have come to bury you in the barren snow.


I will find the courage to leave the cold behind me…

Without you by my side.

An expedition to disrupt what you call, virtue.

Such as,  the stone wall that had surrounded my heart.

With care…

No longer will your distortions walk hand in hand with my body of art.moral-1

the Pilgramage

much less alone 1

‘Can I handle the changeable seasons of my life?’

Perhaps, that is question that will go unanswered.

But in brave retrospect, I would like to try.


More than a generation has been spent with you in my rear-view.

And, this tough skin, I cannot undo.

Turning over the day terrors, like a wounded penny in the palm of my hand.

A recluse to refusal, heading down the wrong route.

It took a lifeline to figure the obvious out.


The demure, pastoral, scenes for justice to see.

A mother, dainty, shuffling morals with biscuits and hot tea.

A grievous misrepresentation for witness’s at a yule tide party.

Yet, behind the scenes, a question unanswered,

‘where were you?’


Thus, in retrospect, I had conceived it all wrong.

That is,

the Auld Lang Syne and…paternal swan song.

So, it is a resolution…I can do

I will not opt for a route around the woods.

I will cautiously pick the trail that goes through.

Currier n Ives Scenic HIghway, NH
Currier n Ives Scenic HIghway, NH


Sly for Ashland

the distance from you and me 1


“I have been jaded by life…but mostly, by, women.”
NO, response, but a simple and lovely giggle.  The kind of chuckle given unto young females who have a zest for the untold.  Purposeful philosophers, say, somewhere between the ages of 25 to 29.
Within the whisp of her menthol cigarette, a smoked filled rasp of quiery arrived.  It curled between the seats of the old ridden hard Subaru.
“Do you think anything will change?  Politics?  HRC ?  There must be a place where making a difference….(long, drawn out, and ultimely, very sexy, tobacco laced pause)….”
And, than, there had been no ending.  As if the conversation, lay in wait for a better, brighter day.
Had I been sly?  I would have pocketed the opportunity to make love to Ashland’s ideals.  Had I known…what I swore I had learned…years before, charm would have been the last choice.
But than…I only knew charm and treachery!
 “And, the one eyed undertaker blows a futile horn!  What does suppose he means by that?  I’ve searched the world over.  Not an answer worth speaking…is to be had!” I spoke with hopes of more interaction.
Again, silence.  Yet, via the crisp New Hampshire air and the waves of not quite red, not quite strawberry blonde hair.  Wedged under the earthiness Ashland wore like a badge of nonsense.  A badge of nonsense that clearly stated…anything was game.
In the middle of mid day, with certain feelings not tucked away…no response was needed.
Yet, I yearned.
I waited.
I exhaled and breathed in the common bond that is shared between dreamers.
“Tell me, what was your major in school?”
“Philosophy!” a burst of info handed to me like buttered bread handed to a starving whore.
“Well, than, I know you have thoughts!  Hand them over!”
I have never been one for photographic memory.  I do remember, Ashland, smiling, seductively and comically.  A vision of what is right with the world today.
She spoke of death, love, giving in and sometimes, giving up.  Her message had been clear…
“…we are not all built the same.  Some of us refuse to see.  Refuse to follow what might feel right…For the simple reason that…we are more at home with wrong.”
Our day progressed.  Deep, dark and stark ideas were exchanged.  Laughter had been a must.
And, one memory is for certain…
As I left her at a dirty curb’s end, she smiled that smile again…

Leaving me with one thought…Moral's Pond

Beauty walks a razor’s edge, someday I’ll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm