The Path to a Healing Heart

Thou shalt not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself: I am the LORD. Leviticus 19:18

Grandfather was a medicine man of great sensitivity. He could read the trees, taste the wind and understand the ways of the kingdoms of nature. Many days he spent gathering leaves, bark, roots, berries and plants. Each one wrapped carefully, separate and placed within his special papoose he'd fashioned from birch bark and pine wood a long time before. In meticulous fashion he would tend to the medicinals - sorted, cleaned, washed and aired them to dry. His remedies and potions aligned the westerly wall which faced the rising sun, so that for a few minutes each morning all of the remedies would be charged with the new rays of the morning. Chants for the earth, drum for the heart beat, rattles for cleansing. Each beat and gutteral sound vibrated through the mixtures in prayers of his heart that was always filled with great honor and love for all that Is, Was and Will Always Be. My remembrances of both of my ancestors is deeply etched and engrained on the fine ladders and labyrinths o...

White crystal beads were fashioned by grandmother in her wigwam of birch and skin grandfather built. The stones traded for meat and fur of the bison hunted and dried in pemmican, heaps stored in the clay and wicker baskets that lined the bottom of the cellar below. A small hatched opening that stored the roots, berries, dried corn and the meat. All was quiet in the evenings when the fires were finally extinguished and the last cries and laughter were exhaled - in those moments of after sun set grandmother could sit and polish the crystals on the fine pumice tablet - criss crossing over and under, this way and that, light as a feather her touch, leaving no ridges or nicks - just smooth edges, like glass their sheen sparkled bright as she wet them each with a dip, first in fat, then in water - and back to the polishing. Then after she was satisfied with their clear moon light she'd start the fastening of the knots that would hold them fast and steady. A knot, a tie, a wrap and a pull...

photo by amsterdamned!

I stand at the counter Waiting for my turn To score the meat Wondering what’s in it this time. Praying no effects, no effects, no effects. Hearing the screams. Each time. Envisioning the hoisting Final blows All in the time I must stand there In the pools of blood, guts and organs Labor of love My mother is self absorbed Queen of the sick minds Her life long mission To visit with as many doctors As humanly possibly Hypochondria – my other sibling Life revolves around her body And its pain Since my inception I’ve dealt with my rescuing her And her succumbing to non existant Diseases Her life line being being prodded and poked Tested and deemed sick to warrant Raised eyebrows, worry, concern The prized cream, pill, lotion, prescription At the end like one would hold a trophy And the high – the absolute high Of before going to her fix The giddy voice. Been there for 50 years. The contemplation is her system The intrusion is her children Unless they ooh and ahh about The daily affliction A...

Rampant just charging through hearts and streets from the seed of a thought takes root, fed through media and ego - ego media to become full fledged revenge taken. Blood spilled in rage. Feuds to feed. Injustices thought to be. Shame inbred. Intoxication. None can undo the threads that choke. It is the satisfaction they seek. Thrills. A shot here. An explosion there. Getting off on pain of another. The sickness inside the body of the collective like a fungus. Spreading out intensifying. Only fire. Only water. Only purification can rectify the plague. It is here. It is among us. It is happening. Now. Hide. Hide. Hide. The storm is approaching. It will destroy all in its path. The corrupt and the haughty Will all evaporate in the blaze then flood then quake then winds. All of it pulverized to the atom. Nothing left. Seek refuge. Seek shelter. The day of reckoning has arrived.

Worry is keeping me from sleep. It sits on my head and beats it like a drum. I resonate now to leads of how to cure the unknown disease. The more I read, the more I see how the illness was not addressed properly and what could be done given the right zipcode and pocketbook. So I must move beyond the physical and go into the higher levels of awareness to get the knowledge to heal. I fall asleep, feel her presence wake up, interrupted fearing the worst, reassuring her, reciting the words most suitable for the moment and careful with tone and opening heart all simultaneously when I can't manage to see straight. Too many late nights tethered to my screen. Too many days in a state of dull pain - the aches that are now melded between her and I like a knot of silver threads tied eternal.

The Talmud says that a person can be evaluated by three types of measures: (in Hebrew ) kees, kos, kaas , - his pocket kees ), his glass or cup ( kos ) and his anger ( kaas ). I will take my kos for now. My glass - or cup. I have a variety of glasses and cups. About 5. They are what is left after many breaking. Three match, they are clear glass with handles. Resistant to heat. One is a large white bowl-like ceramic coffee mug. One is a tall peach colored mug. I try to keep them as clean as possible. The one I use the most is the peach. It can get stained with coffee and tea, requires more scrubbing and the ocassional soak in bleach. Then it sparkles. I have one small shot glass that was hidden for a while. I got it a thrift shop. I use it for kiddush when I remember. I still have yet to get a normal kiddush cup. This particular shot glass has little nicks cut into it as flower decorations up its side. It looks fragile, but it is rather sturdy. All have been used for remedies througho...

I will stop being enterpainment for the masses. The almost 2 grand hits I make a week with this stubble of a place called blog that encompasses whatever it is that makes up a life in the Holy Land. Enough. I had thoughts of tearing this down. And maybe I will. Nobody needs to see this and nobody needs to satisfy morbid curiosity at my expense. To that I say - go get a life and read someone else. This is my blood here. And I'm not hawking, selling or advertising. I'm barely hanging on to ground zero but with the last fist of fury. One thing I will not be is a statistic. That is the pact I know I've made. And nobody will be burying me in an unmarked grave either. Ditto as above. You're witnessing resurrection. So a little respect. Thanks. And to the doctors of animals out there in their various coats of white how you have the audacity to just cash in the chips without healing is beyond me. And my own shortcomings of not being able to discern between good judgment and emot...

Chin up then. Forward and upward. No fear. Just do.

Gevurah Gevurah Everywhere you look Severity, cutting down Destruction and violence It's a force out of control Where the weakest pay the price for the ignorance and evil machinations of the *elite* power wielders. Parchness, starvation, sickness poverty, corruption this won't end until it's all done and all hearts are broken bodies fallen to their knees and the grins of the malicious are wiped off the face of the earth.

Plunk and bam, slsss, whump In the semi darkness the velvet trump of sound lay down harmony in the cacophony some soul fine tunings here in the At Mo's Fear Some interludes of juicy lush distant hand swing memories of jots, dots, hip-hopscotching thru streets of Man Hat Tan it was just fine sister to be in mid town riding for riding's sake against wind and time Yeah, it was. Night skyline indigo never failed to whoosh in smooth cascading vibes over Brooklyn bridges and under dives Brighton passes that 7 thousand miles is signaling real good rhythm now straight into the broken heart of the Mid Ill East - with a shift and a breeze the moon phased trees in silver rims crazily brushed with frenetic salty brims as sun light gently dims and shadows of passing white boats get etched in an ocean of cobalt blue notes.

I have syringes and vials on every surface from the kitchen to the floor to the table to the bed. All sorts of potions, remedies, supplements and liquids to keep my cats alive. In our constant movings, they've all contracted bugs, viruses and ailments. One had her teeth broken the other had his teeth pulled, one has immune deficiency, the other a mystery. and I keep on mixing up medicines in all variations to keep their systems going because the vets the clueless ones in white coats never can diagnose but can dispense with antibiotics and read out blood sample numbers and sometimes sew a limb together. My inheritance is gone to them. The money to get free is now out of my hands and here I sit watching one writhing in pain stupified in between while I ply him with arnica, vitamin c and lactoferrin and light candles my constant vigil and pray and sigh. My warrior brave one, the tree cat, my indigo prince lies like a rag, the heat, the pain, a mixture for devils not princes, not the c...

Catskills, 2000 - Morning I got in my car, ready to go to the only supermarket within miles to get kosher meat they stocked. As I rev up the engine I hear and feel a rickety vibration. Ordinarily I wouldn't take chances driving and take it to be looked at. It being a Sunday, I figure I'd drive to Catskill (the town I needed to get to), see if there was any kind of place open that could have a look, and worse came to worse, I'd leave it for the next day when everyone was open. But I'd still be careful driving. So I start down 212, onto the freeway (87) then down the county road towards Catskill through Saugerties and this rattling is getting louder. Since I bought the car second or third hand from the dealer, I'd put everything I had into it. I bought it for a thousand bucks and invested 4,000. Every month something else broke down. Eventually I pretty well replaced everything that could be replaced. One day when I was getting it inspected, the guy had a look und...