From Bruce....

Dreaming questions that probably won’t be answered: 3/20/18


Should the messages chronicling the world’s worst inhumanity be expunged from the ‘large’ metal pot or be preserved and remembered?


Should the dream-time invasion of a friend be embraced with open arms or tossed into the compost heap? And might the composting itself be the greater teaching?


Have I sung the great song I was called to sing? Has it eluded me or am I indeed singing it to an audience of one; whose voice is pure and whose feet are bare as she stands upon the stage built for her? And I have yet to face the gilded presence of El . . . what might THAT be like?

And oh my! On the day that my poetic search into the heart of a poem is published I am invited into a mythic underworld ‘down’ in ancient Mexico where sacred steamy vapors drift over secret hieroglyphs. I say I am lost on this path but I’m eager to consult the voice of the oracle in order to be launched on to planes of reality that I don’t yet comprehend. My questions are numerous.


We are considering our legacies, but clearly there is much
living to do in the (stew) pot where we find ourselves, in the house that is ever being deftly invaded with teachings, where we are being jettisoned from reality to reality and where perhaps, all we do is being chronicled in a great library. (go to the rear of the archives dear, and check the Akashic Records under “Great Song.”)

(please excuse my all too constant projections)