A Reaffirmation that I am not the Messiah.

no one's ever taken pictures of me
that I've ever truly been proud of
and deep in the heart, there's a hint
I've given to myself that I've never
done anything of which of a picture would be deserving,
all these near-misses, these second guesses,
thirty-three years and I'm reminded
of this man they call messiah, wonderer, god-hero,
who broke on the scene like the rolling stones,
chanting sermons and weaving strange tales
that made the magistrates wonder about their
foothold on the social order, all in a matter
of years, so the book says, eloquently,
and their fear of the cracks it spread
among the poor & the wounded had them
guessing the only way to shut off this flow
was to kll him somehow, maybe nail him to a board
on a hill, outside the skirts of a town,
while others watched, as a lesson to anyone
who was looking to raise the dead or flagging spirits.
To go forth gently into that mad science, you would
have to be a lunatic or convinced of your power,
not yielding to the cost, to the humiliation beset you,
not cowering in the wake of personal misery, this trudging
in the midst of possible failure, admirable
but seemingly stupid, & yet calling to mind something like envy.
They never knew about the permanence of a photograph,
a visual log that there was anyone here like you,
of you smiling or staring into the face of your persecutors,
I fought you, that picture says, and maybe you won,
but your victory is a spoil of the war raging
between humans, for the spirit of standing up,
that he could say I fought you, but I lived still as I did,
among you, in spite of you while I did. I withstood
the revolution of the heart, and there was nothing
to capture me in a magazine, doing remarkable things,
nothing like the nightly news, or a muffled cry
from behind a lens, urging on your ancestors from
a mystic void, hidden in a strange dark cavern
the only shelter from a desert of exile.
Sometimes this wilderness seems like something you seek,
but if you play it right, you're never in the wilderness,
or maybe it's just that I've not fought for this,
and I'm nothing like that man, who they say fought
his demons for forty days, because I'd not shown any
sign of staging coupe from any point, I'm not the photograph,
nowhere near possessed of the cannonball locked in my heart,
not even straining one moment to sling any arrows
except the arrows that already pierce the heart,
the age of our years should matter little, but what
we do with failure before it encompasses us with doubt,
over the question of how we've lived, wither its impact,
wither we've justified the hours spent in sun,
or that our skin was touched by humilty or dignity,
wther we contributed to a celebration of what happens
when we at last take on the glory of living in this skin.

It is the right call for rest when the scorpion wields its stinger. Mania inevitably leads to depression. I push the edges of my happiness and find myself burned out on the very things that give me strength and the song "Pushit" by Tool came to mind. The only realization I have there, as strong a connection as I have to what that song seems to be really about, there is no one pushing me in any one direction....it just feels like people yank me in a certain direction when in reality, I only need to go where I really want to go...and yet, that's the struggle. You sort of test waters in certain arenas , and people within that arena are enthusiastic about your arrival. They say that they want you to come out with them and be part of their scene when in reality, you like to keep your distance because you think it affords you the benfit of judgement. Being objective, able to read a situation at its fullest zenith. Able to be accurate about your movements. And then there is alaso the element of freedom to back away or back out entirely.... but the battle is between the ears... you don't know what other people are thinking, you can't pretend to know what their thinking at all... but it is the very thing that consumes almost on a regular basis...

Inside Looking Out. For Once & NOW.

You suddenly realize you are surrounded by this fellowship. Called so because they are brothers & sisters and they combine to make one big unit. Surrounded at the meeting today by some new acquaintances. People come to you for guidance, for support. You're like Red. You're a man who can get things. Now I've been trained by the universe to communicate with these people, to send them in the right direction. To tell them where to go, how to find what they are looking for. But for the same usual reasons, i can't manage these two who walk off in other directions. I don't lie. I tell the truth but there's always people who think you're ignorant, you don't know what you're talking about. I am the teacher, in this circumstance,, I have a job to do, and my job is not to be right all the time, but to not lead anyone too far astray. Avoid the satisfaction of being right, of needing to be right for pride sake. That is pride, and is short-lived. What purpose does it served. For every single thing I am correct about, there are thousands of other things, I would not know the answer to. But there seems to be a gain that can be had just from trying to live in the truth. It seems to eminate from itself. We don't know everything, I don't have the answers to everything, but I am making suggestions. My siggestions don't always pan out entirely. On the positive side of things, I am delighted to have Sylvester & Claudia learning along with me. They are very eager students, much like Josh & Mike were. And Rob. And Andrea & And Sam & Lisa & and the other two. They just wanted to exceed , do well, learn the lingo.
Let me be not bigger than who I am, let my mind not balloon farther than my body's limitations... let me not take for granted what has been granted me. Let me not belittle what talents I have, nor cast aside the good people & friends that have been shown to me through the grace of God. Let me be even eyed with the world so I can meet every challenge that is cast into my path...