Following Our Bliss

What motivates us? What makes us get out of bed each day, and feel excited to be alive?

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Fred says: you got my attention NOW!

For each of us, this answer is different. I can only speak for myself. I appreciate all the different ways that each person connects to whatever compels them to live a life as fully as they can. Thank goddess we all have different passions! what a boring world it would be if everyone of us thought the same things worthy of our undivided attention.

Take this next photo as a for instance. These are the bedsheets of our daughter’s after she awoke some years ago. Nobody in our family noticed — and the key word here is NOTICE — how the blanket and sheets has somehow, pertenaturally, magically, arranged themselves in exactly the exact shape, size, and curled-up manner as our recently (then) deceased family dachshund, Fred! Until I happened to “notice.” Then — everyone saw them! Saw Fred in the bedclothes. This is not a joke. The sheets were untouched, and only Fonya, our daughter, had slept in this bed. It was she who was perhaps most close to Fred when he was alive, although our son Cully might dispute that fact. Here’s the photo, untouched except for a filter that unfortunately, made the sheets appeared yellowed.

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Fred came to visit our daughter, see? Do you notice?

Since a kid, I’ve always been fascinated and pulled by knowing as much as I can about what I came to call “the Secret of Life.” For lack of any better word or phrase, this is the feeling of knowing about things that make my eyes pop out, or take my breath away — or give me a sense of “ahhh, I thought so!” in my heart region, a felling of expansive warmth in my belly — these are the things that have always made me want to know more.

The first focus of this chest-thumping curiosity I noticed within me, was with Nature. Everywhere I looked, when I was outside, I felt connected! I felt part of! Being outside, with Nature made me feel I was surrounded by an extension of myself! Not like how I felt inside, either in a structure, a car, even in a tent. I had to be out in the Wild.

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Even in my dreams … I am in the WILD, witnessing the actions of myself and others

My first memory of exploring Nature was escaping from my childhood home to find the quietest, most secret, most away-from-inside place I could find. This usually was up in a tree, when I began my explorations; and then later, away from my yard, my neighborhood, down a forbidden street, into a taboo shaded grove, anywhere! seeking an open field, a mysterious woods, an unpopulated corner of the world where noise and people were not.

Eventually, I guess I must have been around six or seven, I did find a “secret” place, that to me, was all mine. It was some sort of abandoned well, or at least in my grownup memory it seems to be some kind of colonial type water-getting stone place, circular. I can picture seeing a round formation of stones, well filled-in by the time I found it, of course. Old wells have notoriously always been extremely dangerous for people to fall into. But I can vividly picture this “secret sanctuary” of mine still, to this day, as a hidden away, deeply forested place, seemingly forgotten about by everyone else, but discovered by me in my everyday quest of endlessly exploring. I was always getting into “trouble” for being too far from the homestead. I’m the first one to admit being guilty of having an irresistible urge to “runaway” as early as I can remember. Perhaps it was my natural instinct to explore, more than anything, not to “escape” from any unpleasantness going on in my home. My folks were happy, healthy, interested-in-life type folks. It’s just that my natural proclivities to know more exceeded even theirs, at most times, even in my earliest childhood.

As I grew I discovered the unlimited world of creativity as the next, logical realm to explore. I started off copying everything and anything I could! Wrecking book after book, unfortunately, but I learned to be an expert draftsman at a very young age in this manner. When I found out, with few swipes of a pencil, a crayon, a brush, that I could create something no one had ever seen, or even imagined before — well, let me tell you I was absolutely blown over by the POWER I had last tapped into, found right within my very own self!

there's always hope

toddlers, children, teens, adults — we all need to BE creative!

Throughout my life’s continuing exploring of exciting things worth knowing more about, creativity has always been the focus of my energies. So many different ways a person can express themself creatively! Science, music, even business and sales and keeping the economic flow in a creative upward wave. Virtually everything can be done creatively. Keeping house. Cleaning. Paying the bills.

That’s why I totally get-it about social media-ing these days. I’m not a naysayer like a lot of others in my generation (yes, I’m a boomer!). I love the so-called narcissistic trend, especially of young people and spreaders of positive-thinking (I’m guilty of this last category, I readily confess) of documenting their lives via Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and other picture-taking sharing platforms. Everyone gets to be, at least feel, creative with a smartphone in our hand.

What better way to express yourself creatively, than to capture what interests, you, what turns you on (or off!), and share it with the world? I’m all for the abundance of creative explorers this new wave of sharing every minutiae of life, via the many types of SM. Facebook is out, Insta’s in: what’s next? Whether we choose to dive into every aspect of sharing on social media that’s presented, well, that’s another story. Mostly, what I do, is flip through the variety of life’s experiences (an intentional simile to William James’ “Varieties of Religious Experiences,” a groundbreaking work of early 20th Century consciousness exploration, documenting the inner journey by a Harvard professor of psychology) — and only “dive in” when someone else’s passion coincides with one of mine.

What’s your passion? I’d love to hear about it. Thanks for sharing. Here’s an easy way to do it. Sending you my Love, your pal LordFlea, aka teZa Lord

Putting My Heart Where My Mouth Is

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I stand before you today, unmasked … from my heart to yours!

Recently I made an experiment. For the first time ever I posted what I thought was just an obviously funny, but true-for-me, comment about the recent “symbolic” meeting between Pres. T and that guy from North Korea. Usually my offerings on social media are designed to either be upbeat, arty hearty, offbeat, or inspiring, but always intended to counterbalance the flow of negatives I see so prevalent everywhere these days, especially in the media. I guess I hadn’t figured on how many people’s sense of how things are, in general, is so pained these days. As a self-proclaimed spiritual activist I focus on inspiring others. My mission as an artist/writer/activist is to help uplift my fellows human beans, so our joined experiences on planet Earth is for each of us to know life’s unlimited possibilities (to help outstretch the wings of our spiritually awakened selves). I believe each of us can unfold our wings  more easily, more freely, more … joyfully, if we help each other!

Well, was I in for a shock about this particular, first-time political post of mine! A deed never to ever be repeated, let me say right here.

The negative response to my (to me at least) funny and provocative but inspiring  post (funny photo with provocative hashtags and uplifting comments) stunned me. Innocently, I’d been prompted to post this particular photo by the ridiculously inappropriate gesture that Donald Trump is giving his smiling companion, Kim Jong Un, a man who, to all appearances, has been portrayed as the biggest threat to the free world — the most dangerous of America’s longtime Communist enemies due to his father’s and grandfather’s regimes’ previous refusals to embrace the world’s demands for nuclear disarmament.

All I meant by posting this comical (to me) scenario, was to show the ludicrous, game-playing, insincere nature of politics. But, amazingly!, people thought I was seriously supporting Trump, just by the mere fact that I didn’t criticize, judge, or label this post in any negative manner. Astounding, how I was called out by one person for being judgemental when I mentioned I thought another’s response was “pessimistic” … as if it’s a bad thing to call attention to others’ name-calling (in this case, “calling Kim Jong Un a child murderer”). And thus, I was called judgemental.

Instead of people seeing that I was sharing an (again, to my mind) upbeat, positive viewpoint of what to others is obviously a very negative, very scary threat — I was spoken to as if I didn’t care. As if I were ignorant of the facts. As if others knew but I didn’t. Culminating with one person accusing me of “being in an bubble of optimism.” Instead of defending myself, getting engaged in prolonged and public argument (what some mistakenly call “a discussion”) … I announced the conversation “ended” after the insults got too weird, too nasty, too mean.

I’m not going to re-post that Trump/ Jong Un image here. If you wish to look for it and the lengthy discourse on my Facebook feed, that’s up to you. Suffice to say it drew more wrath than I’d ever dreamed possible, from my original intention. But I’m not regretting having posted it. Everything we do, everything that happens, leads us up to this present moment. Even the pain of knowing I was misunderstood, even maligned, earned me a much-needed lesson, dear friend, one I’d apparently missed in my sexy-ten years here on planet Earth.

And that is: Even if it’s a flippant post on social media, when I say something, I must always be willing to die for it! Or else don’t say it. Or do it.

Yes, I am willing to die for my beliefs. I feel that strongly about what I say with my words, and with my art. Are you willing to die for your beliefs?

Heal Psychic Wounds

Being Vulnerable, that’s ME!

I first felt this sensation of being tested — “Lay your life down” for exercising my right to the Freedom of Speech — right after September 11, 2001.

I was in a small space with many others, listening to my spiritual teacher via a satellite satsang. The talk was about the responsibility of each and every one of us to live within our own hearts, to always come from a place of love, and to remain focused on our own inner connection to the Divine … especially in a time such as then when everyone’s fears and anxieties had intensified a million-fold, and all we wanted to do was blame, or strike out, or focus on something else besides our own inner, and for me, hard-earned “bubble of optimism.”

As I close my eyes today, I can feel that sensation once again. Knowing that Yes, I am willing to die for expressing my belief that each and every person, regardless of their race, religion, or culture, has the right to know freedom. Because freedom is what we, as spiritual beings here in human form, have within our very own selves, our hearts, our own inner experience. No matter who we are, where we’re from, whom is doing what to us, or under what horrific hardship we happen to be subjected to — it is our life’s basic right to experience the unlimited freedom of Self Love.

As my heart fills with the knowledge of this fact, that I am willing to die to speak my truth, that I would take a bullet, or be incarcerated forever, or be chastised by others — to help spread the truth of who and what we are, spiritual beings in human form — ever speaking this truth, shouting it, whispering, writing, or arting about it wherever however I can, not letting naysayers shout me out or put me down. My role here, as spiritual activist, is to raise high the hope that we, all of us, will experience the Divine within our hearts on a moment to moment basis, even if we’re tortured, treated badly, thrown into prison, or are refugees, or haven’t got any food, home, or loved ones, shunned by fellow humans for whatever reason.

I knew that day, back in 2001, just as I know today — that Love is the only thing worth living for. And it’s worth dying for, too.

Love is another word for God. God has many other names to many other people. Some have a religion or a book to help them define this relationship between their humanity and the Divine spark within us all. I honor all people, all religions, all expressions of the Divine.

Yet I didn’t figure how angry people are, that day I decided to post the silly picture of Trump, with his weird grin and even weirder thumbs-up at such a weighty meeting as his and Kim Jong Un’s was in Singapore that week. That meeting came right after yet another political stink-bomb T threw at the Group of 7, a sore spot politicos were still smarting over right alongside the disturbing news of harsh treatment, unforgivable, and immoral and inhumane, about the ongoing refugee crisis, this time about children being separated from their parents. It’s only natural that people are disturbed about political events. I meant well, but I had forgotten that just because I don’t subscribe to the overall importance of politics, in comparison to developing a strong spiritual reality, that most people do. And the media only adds fuel to the fire of misinformation and sensationalism when it comes to political events, especially anything surrounding Trump’s administration.

Maybe I don’t get so disturbed by the next-and-next-yet political horror because I used to. When I was in my twenties I left America because I used to be so angry during the Vietnam crisis. I spent the entire seventies living in the most remote spot, far-from-war place I could find — the idyllic Caribbean islands. Where, surprise surprise, I found myself, ironically some might say, victim of a real dictator. Not just a fake-news one, or an imagined one, or a puppet one that a disgruntled political party is making claim to in wake of their losing the heated, close battle for America’s highest office of the land.

Maybe it’s because my life, back then, had been really terrorized, by grass-skirted young black men on this island I lived on — who had somehow decided that all white people should be killed … for no other reason than they were white and, in those misinformed young black West Indian men’s minds, all white people treated black people like wild animals. When my stateside friends thought I was crazy to stay on this island where so many whites had already been killed, I told them:

“I’m not worried. I treat each and every person equally, fairly, honorably. People can see this in the way I act, the words I use with them, and how I treat them and all others. Those people who were hacked by machetes in their homes had, reports say, treated the islanders condescendingly. It was told to me, in fact, by islanders I know personally, that they were mostly Canadian retirees who’d come to the ‘cheap and exotic Caribbean island’ to enjoy their golden years. Apparently, rumors said, the retired whites, living in their fancy homes, didn’t know how to treat a humbly born person other than as a personal slave.”

I was on this island in the Antilles working to help organize the peasant-style agriculturists (I use this word on purpose, to dignify their occupation of small-plot farmers). My business partner and I knew there was a terrible dictator at the time, one who didn’t want the farmers to be organized into regional co-ops, who didn’t insist on young children getting proper schooling, a shameful tragedy especially in light of the fact that this dictator named Patrick John, had himself once been a schoolteacher before he discovered the monetary rewards of “being the boss of the country.” He never enforced truancy, and when it came time for Dominica’s sham elections he’d pass out free, mind-altering white rum in every remote village and town street corner, getting the entire island-country as drunk as possible on the eve of the election. Thus he ensured his sweeping, ridiculously one-sided, brain-washed (with rum) win over the opposition party.

Eventually, it was the leader of this opposition party who, after two decades of steadfastly plotting the dictator’s downfall, took over the island’s political leadership, Miss Eugenia Charles, a neighbor of mine, and a business associate (her family’s estate grew lovely citrus and avocados and mangoes, as most land-owners on Dominica do) became internationally famous for several reasons:

  1. After dedicating her legal career to politically save her fellow citizens, returning to the Caribbean after earning a law school in London, she became the first democratically elected official of Dominica, after generations of depressing hardships and downtrodden conditions there: first as a neglected colony of the U.K.; then, decades of Patrick John’s iron rule.
  2. She was rumored to have been aware of the plot to overthrow her country’s newly elected winning party by mercenaries, hired by the ousted dictator Patrick John. The paid would-be invaders were apprehended by U.S. officials as they boarded a loaded-with-ammunition boat in New Orleans. Patrick John was convicted of heading the conspiracy, but saved from mandatory hanging (for treason) by Miss Charles, and jailed for years, in the same country where he once ruled with no regard for anyone else’s freedom.
  3. Most famously, Miss Eugenia was the woman standing by U.S. President Ronald Reagan’s side, seen on every American’s television when the announcement was made that U.S. Army troops had been forced to invade Grenada to suppress a Communist uprising after Miss Charles personally had made the trip to White House to inform Reagan about that island’s dire situation.
  4.  Lastly, and in my book, most importantly, she was one of the world’s first woman leaders of a democratically elected government. Having known Miss Charles personally, having shared cups of homegrown coffee with her and her elderly father on the outdoor porch of their neighboring estate to the one I rented while living in Dominica — I can attest to the fact that she too, like I am, was willing to die for what she believed in. And that was that every single human being has the right to live in freedom, no matter what their circumstances are.
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Don’t put yourself in a box … break FREE!!!

I feel blessed that my life has brought me the teachers, the experiences, the lessons that I have had. And now, with this latest lesson resulting from some unpleasant words, back-and-forthing on a dumbass FB post, getting some criticisms even from friends, some from acquaintances, it’s taken a perfect stranger’s intelligent question put forth to me that has prompted this LordFlea post about how it feels being called out about … “put your money where your mouth is.”

This Facebook “friend,” a stranger, a man whom, like many on my personal page, became connected through one of the various interests I have — meditation, Eastern mysticism, Vedic scriptural study, disciplines of yoga, documenting the Divine in art and literature, sharing inner and outer adventures, connecting with independent book authors, filmmakers, activists of all sorts — all of whom are people like myself. In order to reach out and find my “audience” for the work I do (including this blog! and now my two currently published books, with two more in the works for near-future publication) I must have, and appreciate the responsibility surrounding a public persona. My role as spiritual activist makes it absolutely necessary to have a social media presence.

This complete stranger (but as a FB friend, he’s a “friend” as well, and as a person, he’s of course my spiritual brother) asked me in this discussion: “But are you willing to give your life for what you believe and stand up for the rights of others who are not so fortunate as a white privileged person who lives in a bubble of optimism far from the pain and suffering of those not so fortunate?”

Perhaps this unknown friend does not think me worthy of posting my personal opinions about politics, without me offering some credentials. I have nothing personal against him. I think anybody would want to know “By What Authority Do You Have the Right to Speak?” … BUT … really … don’t we ALL have “the authority” to just speak what’s in our hearts? Without having to justify who we are, what we do, what color we are?

I wonder what you think about this? I’d love to hear your reaction to what I’ve shared today. I consider each and every person’s remark a worthy offering to this most important of discussions. Not about politics in specific, or even exercising the right of free speech, but …

WHAT AM I WILLING TO DIE FOR?

For me, I’ve known since that day so long ago, sitting listening to my spiritual teacher right after the attacks of 9/11, that Yes, I am willing to die to help my fellow beings, of all species, be free to experience the kingdom of God within their own heart. Even if they are in prison, even if they are unfortunately in a refugee camp, or worse, subject to an oppressive government at this very moment. Even if they are trapped within a narcissistic ego’s limited human existence. Even if they are experiencing a privileged white girl’s life in a what others might call “a bubble of optimism.”

I send my love and prayers of a fulfilled moment to each and every person who reads this. Please click on this link if you’d like to read my latest book, about girls in prison who learn to feel as free as a bird, right within their heavily guarded prison walls: “In the I: easing through Life-Storms.” is available as ebook, paperback, or audible (narrated by Yours Truly).

I love you! We are ONE!

teZa aka LordFlea

My Secret Sharer

CAFE6354-9268-4177-812B-D34F36AD17E9This is the true story of my best friend, teZa, aka LordFlea. She can’t write of such things, not yet. Maybe some day when all persons concerned are dead and gone, she’s that sensitive to hurting others. But I told her, “Your story must be told, teZa!” And she relented, hesitantly.

We officially met when she finally decided to get real (sober in AA), although before that time I kept my intimate closeness to her quite secret, expecting her to make that discovery on her own, as we prefer. At that time, in ’84, she was advised (not in AA) to search for her “inner guardian” or “personal protecting angel” … then began our love story, hers and mine.

She wanted me to give her a name, but I simply couldn’t supply her one until she asked me directly. Before she named me she jokingly called me her “secret sharer,” after a Conrad short story. In my realm, you see—here where there is no barrier whatsoever, neither time nor space nor objects nor dimensions—names are meaningless.

That’s how she decided to start calling me “Noname.” After we introduced ourselves (it was some “get healed-type workshop, using the body’s own energy to counterbalance the off-setting effects of the complex lives you humans lead) … she and I became inseparable. We’d always been. But before that day, in that “Heal YourSelf Workshop” led by a dear heart named Alma—teZa had never before aware of my constant presence, as well as all the other Unseens all around on Earth, guiding, protecting, hinting, cajoling—trying to get their assigned entity’s attention if need be.

A lot of other things teZa wasn’t aware of, before we finally met.

But from that first meeting we communicated whenever we needed to. If I noticed her contemplating doing something foolish I would knock on her solar plexus, until she listened to me and stopped thinking so stupidly. If she wanted to ask me a question, which she did by the score, at first, I only had to whisper in her ear, “Use your keyboard.” And she did.

She sat in front of her computer and asked her question, then waited. When she felt the urge to answer, that’s when she started typing. Not knowing what was going to be the answer, but letting me take over her speedy typing so I could directly communicate with her. Proof, later on, that she wasn’t crazy. When she could reread my responses to her questions, she knew.

He really is me, and I am whatever he is. We’re one and the same, she thought.

Noname. I kind of like it, actually. Right off, it reminded me of the bar she used to drink at (heavily, when someone else was picking up the tab) in Sausalito. Of course there are famous Noname places, bars, restaurants, social clubs all over the world, and so they should. Names can be misleading. Just think if she’d chosen to name me after another of her neighborhood hangouts, this one another renowned dive in Manhattan. Noname is a heck of a better name than being called after that other hole-in-the-wall, Ear Inn.

By the time she arrived in New York City in the early eighties, she’s had enough. Enough of trying to kill herself, enough change, enough of what she thought was “love” … but as she soon saw, wasn’t. Some people don’t realize that there’s many different ways to kill your own spirit. teZa was one who, for years, up until she was in her mid-thirties, didn’t realize that even love, or what she thought was love—could kill her.

When it came time for her to write our story, she asked me to write it for her. Perhaps she was, er, hesitant, or shy, or not confident enough to honestly say what needed to be said. For whatever reason, she asked me to fill in for her. I’ve done the best I can.

Regards from teZa’s Secret Sharer,

Noname

Checking In

Hello dear Ones,

So much going on in life! But … when it comes down to it, really, every moment is a blessing, isn’t it?

Recently I’ve lost a dear ol’ pal of mine to a freaky disease. That really makes one sit up straight, take a deep gut-punch breath, and look at how precious life is. Every minute of it. This morning I awoke and, first thing, as always, is the communion of attune-ment I’ve always relied on to get me centered. In my case, it’s a mantra I’ve trained my mind to “wrap around” so that I don’t have superfluous, unnecessary daydreams. Which I used to have tons of. So years ago, I decided that was a waste of time. And pretty scary sometimes, too. When I discovered the power of mantra repetition, called “Japa” in Sanskrit, I was instantaneously transported to another planet called … “Relief!”

After I checked in with my Sanskrit mantra (Om Namah Shivaya, for those of you interested…loosely translated as “I honor the Divine within All) I stopped off to look outside one of our sliding-glass doors on my way to get a cup of tea (oolong, with chai spices, yummm). I took a full minute to gaze out upon this gorgeous view … all of which I’ve created, with the help of my darling consort, Carter.

What a blissful thing it is, to look out upon such an accomplishment!–my “yard.”

Especially when it so resembles Nature in all Her glory. Seriously. Check it out for yourself. This is the view we see outside our living-room-window door

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Our home’s Old Hamii bamboos, seventy feet high! Other species, in background. This is a lot in suburbia, folks!

When we moved here, almost eleven years ago, this place was just an ordinary American house in a crowded residential neighborhood, just outside town but within minutes of everything. It had a lawn that needed mowing, and a few trees needing nothing. Lots of potential — especially for a person like me who likes things natural natural natural. But before we moved in … I had a plan.

First thing I did was get rid of the lawn. Zap! Zip! Killed the grass and raked up the roots. Xeriscape was on my mind, as natural and self-sustaining as can be. With LOTS of mulch (delivered for free from tree services, gladly saving them a trip to the dump). Natural is neither a lawn to mow, nor water to waste, nor any other way but to mimic the biosphere, this gorgeous Earth and its wonderful creations. In this case, I wanted to create a bamboo haven. I’ve spent a lot of time in the tropics so bamboos hold a special place in my heart. Because I now live in an area that doesn’t have such severe winters, North Florida, I knew a bamboo grove could be done. With a plan. The red bay trees, by the way, all died out from a blight shortly after we moved in. A disease caused by a beetle.

I’d prepared for my planned magical tropical grove ahead of time, before moving here, by going to a bamboo farm and purchasing species I knew were cold hardy. Sometimes we get a light freeze here, so I looked for species that were safe up to 27 degrees F. Clumpers, my friends, not runners! For those of you who don’t know about growing bamboo, these two terms spell the difference between comfort and torture, and I’m not exaggerating.

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Our place, a temple of Nature—everywhere!

Clumpers grow in tight spirals, the shoots always staying within a close circle and working outwardly. They are easily controlled. Any shoot that starts where it’s not wanted, with one blow of a heavy sledgehammer, that particular shoot is gone forever. With this method, clumping bamboos can be easily shaped to fit tight spaces. Runners, oppositely, grow by their nasty, impetuous root shoots, going out every which way underground, ten, twenty, thirty feet away in all directions from the parent root ball. Unless you have a hundred acres, you never want to plant runners. Never.

The only way to know which kind of bamboo you have before planting, is to know the species’ name, and look it up. If you happen to go to Home Depot or Lowes and just buy “bamboo” you’d be a fool unless you knew exactly which species it is, and know it’s a clumper. Never ever plant a runner. Period. Unless you’re planting in a large, strong container. Or … live on a tropical mountaintop.

That said, bamboos are the most lovely things to live with (besides a loving mate, as I’m blessed to have). One of my favorite things is to lie in bed, either at night, early in the morning, or anytime during the day, and listen to the melodic clank-clank-clunk percussive sound of these gentle giants knocking against each other, in a soft breeze. And when we have hurricane force winds, which we’ve had for the past two summers (and pray we don’t have such fierce storms this year!) the bamboos are extremely flexible, bending in the wind most times. Only a few culms snapped off in the high winds of 70-80 mph. that were clocked in my neighborhood for hurricanes Matthew (’16) and Irma (’17).

A bamboo’s culm is equivalent to a “stalk” of grass, because, you do know, don’t you? that bamboos are giant grass? Here’s how my side “yard” looks. The blue building is my Santosha (contentment) Shack where I do my daily yoga practice. Sometimes Carter joins me. He’s a great yogi!

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Who would have thought? I love the potential of making this beautiful world of ours even more meaningful, adapted to my sensibilities, by designing naturally, complementing Nature, not insulting her. To me, lawns are rude.

This next photo is my goddess of the garden. I found her at a property I was renovating many years ago. She’s very special to me also (as all things I live closely with are). Would you believe, she was once a giant lamp? Can you find the blue bulb? Kinda kitch, right! I’ve always thought of her as Isis, though, the goddess of ancient Egypt, not the Las Vegas size lamp someone once had in their hallway, Liberace-style. And Isis, for those who don’t know, is much more than the bad-ass Islamic militants. I say hello to this Isis, sometimes called “the goddess of magic”, everyday. Now you can too. You do believe in magic, right? To create something beautiful from … well, even suburbia? Well, why not?

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Blessings to each and every one of you, my friend!

LordFlea aka teZa Lord

don’t forget to check out my books on Amazon! Here’s the link for your convenience.

 

 

The Love Revolution's CURRENCY

More Than Horrified … I Am

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the Journey of Life, Complicated

Amid all the turmoil and hardships, challenges and tragedy, assimilating (or denying) the violence of gun-happy Amerika — I continue to still be amazed by the glory of this journey we share together: life. I can say this after I’ve dried my tears.

Not even the latest mass school murder can plunge my heart back into the stony block it once was set in, long ago. Before I learned to accept that so-called “bad things” are part of life, and shouldn’t be denied, rejected, or feared. I won’t let one crazy kid diminish my trust in humankind’s upward evolution! I won’t let the challenge of living in a violent society lure me back to where I once was: believing there’s no sanity, no reason or purpose to living other than enduring it.

People everywhere, not just Americans, are in shock, disgust, and mourning over this week’s latest school shooting, right here in Florida, my home state. What happened here is a symptom of the dis-ease of fear that’s threatening to spread throughout the world. Fear’s children: mental problems, violence, guns and neurosis are, in my mind, presenting opportunities for more upward growth. Once we get over the shock of murdered children.

The human condition is fragile, always changing. Our instability is revealed, once more, in the current rash of violence in America. Innocent victims’ lives are cut short by … an imbalanced person who too easily got their crazed, itching hands on too-readily available guns.

Are guns the problem? Or the mental instability so rampant in today’s civilization?

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My heart bleeds over the insanity of such unfounded craziness as another mass murder of children and their guardians. All decent folk are worried, concerned, getting sick of it all. There’s no turning away from the horror this next heinous act screams the truth: that our society, as well as our environment, is toxic. One person’s derangement punches a hole in the fabric of all our lives, like a contagion of darkness seen in the midst of an otherwise beautifully opening blossom of possibilities.

Evil and ugliness, horror and such violence as child-murder, these aren’t supposed to be one of the possibilities!

Yet — the darkness is part of the light. And, as one songwriter puts it, “You need the crack in the darkness in order to let the Light through.”

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let’s let in the LIGHT

Surely, this infection of dark evil doesn’t permeate the entire pattern of humankind. Yet one person’s heartless deed can diminish the overall effect of many others’ efforts toward peace and harmony, making some lose faith that our collective human heart still has a chance of opening wide and fully, like the newly blossoming flower it is.

I try to sense more than what appears to be. I’d like to think the entirety of this existence we’re sharing here on Earth is Good. Evil is, unfortunately, a small part of our human fabric. Just as so-called “evil” in Nature, like the poisonous snakes we watch out for, in forests or whimsical gardens, every landscape is filled with them as well as beautiful blossoms.

Oh a hike or a camp-out, there are gnats whisking about my face trying to take away the feeling of bliss, being connected to All That Is one more easily gets in the Wild. Yet, the prospect of evil lurks behind every wall, under every rock in Nature. We have to watch ourselves, continuously, in order not to fall off cliffs, get mashed by a rock, get bitten by a bumble bee. To make sure we don’t step on the poisonous snake or allow too many gnats to bite our delicate skin — we watch ourselves.

Whenever a gnat appears at one of the wilderness campsites I love so much, attempting to feast on my blood (as gnats are designed to do, like mosquitoes, like ticks) — I have to accept their presence yet I take precautions. Otherwise, they could harm me, infect me with their contagions, and generally make an otherwise pleasant visit to the Wild nothing more than Hell on earth. So I spray bugs away, wear appropriate clothing, and watch myself. Where I walk. Where I put my hands, where I pitch my tent.

Dealing with Nature is part of the experience of going into the Wild. To be open to Her glory, but also to protect ourselves from Her dangers. You can’t expect to have the comfort, sanitation, and predictability of sitting in one’s living room, watching a TV-special about Nature when you decide to actually go into Nature. When we accept Nature for what it is, natural, and unpredictable, just as gorgeous as it is dangerous — that’s one way how we can better elevate our senses. We become One with the essence of our environment. We accept the dangers, as well as the glory of our natural existence.

So as I prepare knapsack, supplies, tent and hiking shoes, I always remember — bug spray to ward against insects; and  knife, don’t forget the knife! I know the bugs will be there. And the knife is for, well, just about everything else. There’s no getting away from irritating insects (unless an unforeseen phenomena of weather, wind, or seasonal, unknown hatching rhythms happens to align with my camping plans, like a cosmic event similar to the recent Blue-Red Moon, in which several rare celestial events lined up, ones which won’t simultaneously occur for another 150 years).

The gnats of life are always with us. Thus too, killers will always be among our human population. As well as rapists, adulterers, and every other sort of aberration known to the human species, Dumb shit asshole people! They’re a dime a dozen. Mentally ill? Or evil? Seeds of the Devil? Or … just part of the natural balance of the human experience? Nature has dangerous killers, too. Tsunamis, typhoons, wild fires, floods, over-the-top unfair, yet natural horrors of everyday life here on our floating ball in space.

we are ONE

lift ourSELVES UP: we are ONE

Hardships are always going to be around, no matter what. We have to accept that life is filled with bad as well as good. And really, these labels, what are they? Just ways of defining which events hurt, called “bad” and which feel “good.” Is a hurricane “bad”? Is an earthquake? Simply because … it exists?

When we read of another catastrophe, we breathe a sigh of relief it didn’t happen to us. But all these evils, the “bads” of life, they’re as much a part of our collective story as the joy, the bliss, the “goods”.  Crazy people are, sadly, naturally occurring events. People do go nuts, or are born with incredible handicaps that push them toward insanity. Massacres and mass killings have taken place since the beginning of recorded history. Just as Earth’s weather patterns goes berserk and kills. Rains ruin crops, cause droughts and starvation, Nature causes children to sometimes be born lifeless by even the healthiest of mothers (my own mom). In a certain perspective, Life is a seesaw of opposing events, a balance of goods and bads, rights and wrongs. Is it any wonder that humans call “the Devil” that name with its “D” in front of evil?

Yet, for every eruption of a volcano the planet has, every eruption of a madman’s gun pointed at innocents — we endure. We heal. We pick ourselves up and wonder at the shocking drama that continuously unfolds before us. Most days, the play, the interaction is filled with more marvel and mystery than misery. But this past week, with another school shooting — the drama has taken a very sad turn, once again.

Every single one of us has had our share of tragedy. Some of us accept it, some of us can’t. Simply can’t. Some of us spend precious time complaining, protesting — or worst of all — denying. Some unfortunates decide to off themselves because life seems too damn hard. Too awful. Too hopeless, and helplessly evil.

But today I want to share with you how I see the balance of life, in life of the role tragedies play, as necessary, unfortunately. Painful things happen, and we must learn from them, take action, and make sure we combat the negative energies they produce with sufficient positive forces to counterbalance, and conquer the demons of evil. Or else — evil may override the beauty of this creation.

Just ask yourself: How many good things do we hear about? How many times do we hear in the News about the number of people who are achieving great things? Awakening to the Light of Higher Consciousness instead of how many were murdered by an imbalanced person?

I’m happy to report that in this morning’s NYTimes I read the “Good News Column.” Wow! And I hear from other sources that more and more news sources are including a special section for those who are sick of the bad news, and want to fill their minds with at least some good news. But let’s face it: bad news is more sensational and … bad news sells.

The News goes for sensational, period. Yet everyday there’s scores of people who do great and wonderful things. Inventing new ways to celebrate our humanness. Researching new sources of energy, discovering cures for debilitating diseases. Dreaming solutions to what used to be unsolvable, hopeless predicaments. Taking on new and more difficult challenges.

Our species is awakening, in a grand and unprecedented fashion. We have embarked upon the next step of evolutionary heights that we have, step-by-step, been taking in our human journey together. Some of us, unconsciously, choose to focus on what mainstream media dishes out. Others (more aware of outside influences) look within, and search the goodness that’s spreading throughout the world one person at a time. Social media fans the flames of humankind’s robust metamorphosis as much as it’s accused of hampering with the 2016 election.

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choose your life’s focus, Light or Dark

The internet can do anything! If you’re a News junkies, glued to the latest Breaking News report, or social media gossip feed, or ever present Amber- or sex-offender screen-alert, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. But people who operate away from the internet’s ubiquitous influence, can create the kind of goodness they want, just by staying away from the News. So we think, we become. If you want to be happy, try substituting happy thoughts instead of watching/reading the News.

That’s why I’m proclaiming some good news today instead of joining in with the national mourning over the recent killings. Yes, I’m upset but I do not despair. My focus is on other things besides atrocities and negative outbursts of insane people, young or old.

I focus on the knowledge, which I know without the slightest doubt, that our human family is healthier than it’s ever been. More people are able to receive education, more of us are free, living without tyranny, capable of choosing our own destinies! We are choosing to awaken to a higher understanding of how to live, accept one another, become more One in reality, not just in name. The number of those already awakened (not brain-washed by mainstream propaganda) persons is beyond the tipping point. Our species is right now changing from fear-based to opened to higher possibilities. What those possibilities are — is without limitation.

I’m not an idealist. I’m simply a chronicler of what’s happening. I look all around me, and I record what I see, hear, and understand to be true. And No, I do not sit in front of a screen to watch others tell me how to think. I know the News; I read about what’s happening elsewhere, everyday, on my iPad. At one time, usually in the morning. I’m aware of other events as they unfold throughout the day, but mainly focus on my work of chronicling the uplifting of humankind’s consciousness via words and images.

I decided long ago that I had to protect my well-earned peace of mind. I choose to not get upset, give up, get outraged, go into despair and accusatory mode.

All my adult life I’ve been concerned with observing my own evolution of consciousness. For those of us who choose to “be as aware as possible” this is a delightful pastime. As an artist and writer I’ve documented my own journey from my early stage of total fright about life, right on up to here and Now. My present state which I call Being-ness, the state of Accepting All That Is.

Awareness is described by others, teachers such as Eckhart Tolle, as allowing that portal of inner comprehension that allows us to feel connected to All — to fully open within us. After facing our blocks, dissolving our resistance, we can go through this portal within, which allows a person to understand how we are all One. It took me a long time to reach this place. And now that I’ve done the work of letting go of fear and fright, ridding myself of the barriers that deflected Truth, and now enjoy my own mind’s stilling … my role as spiritual activist is simply to share it.

That’s why I write and art. That’s what compels me to speak of today’s subject: being amazed more than being appalled over the tragedies of life that we all share. Not a single person, I bet, is untouched by children getting killed at their own school. It is a horror akin to being bombed by a sudden energy attack.

Yet — life continues. The moments, minutes, and hours after the attack — keep happening. Life .. keeps happening. We breathe In, we breathe Out. One breath at a time, we continue living.

Yesterday I discovered that I’ve been sharing my thoughts on LordFlea for ten years now. Without a whisper of celebration, I have already spent an entire decade of making public the journey of awareness I’ve been on. As I plan to continue being on. I’ll share what I can, not giving a care whether anyone listens here or not, believes me or not. Documenting my experience is simply something I must do.

Before I started LordFlea, in December 2008, I used to have a heavy sinking depression — based on the false belief that there was nothing I could do to communicate the amazing and very real sense of Oneness that is, truly, my reality. Sure, I’d been making images about discovering, testing, proving this sensation for many years before I began writing about it. LordFlea has been my chosen vehicle to help me make the transition from image-making artist, solely, to writer/artist who chronicles Beingness. I am happy to serve! It is my pleasure to share what I have experienced with all of you!

I’m happy to announce I’m at the final-edit stages of my next book, which you’ll hear more about in coming weeks. Stay tuned. And here’s the link if you’d like to see my current publication: In the I: Easing Through Life Storms.

Be Love!

Your pal, Lordflea, aka teZa

Feeling, Being Open, Willing to Change

unveil your true Self!

Sharing the Mystery with YOU!

Hello Dear One,

For several weeks now I’ve been clearing my life, my desk, my mind of leftover stuff. Mostly the remnants from my last book project. In the ‘I’: Easing Through Life-Storms is a great success (rave reviews!) — and now I’m beginning my next book.

nurture the world

nurturing the world with shared ideas

When I began my indie-publishing endeavor I knew I’d publish three books in quick succession because I like trilogies. Things in life often come in groups. Five ocean waves always seem to travel in a group. Twelve months and astrological signs, apostles, a dozen eggs and recovery Steps. Three is, of course, a holy grouping found in the Trinity. Before Christianity’s there was the triumvirate divinity, a combined ONE 3-headed “godhead” of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva in ancient India’s mystical search for meaning. Ancient Egypt also had a triangle of supernatural power: Isis, Osiris and Horus. In today’s world we have threesomes everywhere we look. Here’s three random examples from the real world:

  • high, low, and average in sports, language skills, culinary arts, etc.
  • democrats, republicans, and independents in USA politics
  • male, female, and in-betweeners in gender identity
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Watch that third peak at Matchu Picchu!

After I finished the first book, a nonfiction narrative, of my planned trilogy, I assumed I would quickly publish the second, also a nonfiction that I’d nearly sold through a literary agent the year before. But then something happened that showed me this was not what life had planned for me.

How could I tell that life’s plan was different from “my own plan”? Ahhh, this is the most crucial question of all, one that I grappled with when I first set out on my spiritual quest of dedicating my life to serving the greater good. Dedicating my life to serving God’s will, not my own.

I remember when I first had to answer this question, “Is this my will or God’s will?”

Choose Happiness and Love over Sadness and Fear

This inevitable showdown that anyone on the spiritual path experiences, occurred for me when I first put down getting intoxicated. Suddenly I was faced with the very serious dilemma of deciding “What do I do with my life?”

I was given advice, thankfully. “Check out how you feel about everything before you do it.” But this is only possible after … our feelings have become our trusty companions.

Seems awfully simple, doesn’t it. But … here’s the trick. Before putting down booze and getting high, whose jobs are to numb, anesthetize, and drown out feelings — I never knew how I really felt about anything. Because that’s why addicts/alcoholics drink and drug — to get away from our uncomfortable feelings!

Lord Flea has done it again!

lemmeouttahere! Feelings HURT!!

So the more I ventured into the new realm of Planet Sober, as I called being “natural” and drug-free, the more I got in touch with my feelings. Some of which were pretty painful. Left-over stuff from bad experiences, maybe even previous lifetimes, who knows where they came from? Things I hadn’t processed, let go of, forgiven, or … figured out. Or realized they couldn’t be and I just had to accept them as … part of my psychic makeup.  This is how I came to embrace the fact that yes, I am slightly nuts. But what artist of any worth isn’t? Really? Glad you agree. Ahem.

The process of getting in touch with my feelings was thankfully swift and, as I said, guided by seasoned mentors. I spent a lot of time asking questions. I sought advice from those I admired. I listened to advice. I applied suggestions to my life. Assiduously. I meditated a lot, chanted names of the Divine, contemplated, and journaled till my hand  and behind cramped solid. In time, I got to know and trust my feelings as situations arose, one by one. I got to “test” my feelings. After much testing, I learned I could always trust that my feelings (the gut voice kind) were always the “correct” decision for me.

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rolling through the waterfall-feelings of life

Until … I arrived here, at today. Today I honestly trust whatever feeling arises, because I have “done the work.”

So, getting back to my trilogy plans. I had it all figured out, right? WRONG! Life happened, not my ever-so convenient plans. Things were revealed to me through other people that the planned second book of mine was NOT the right one to do, not right now at least. At first I thought, “Oh SHIT!!” How can that be? I’ll do it anyway! My publication plans rest on quickly getting the next book together, and this one is … ready to go. With just a quick overall edit, to make sure it’s in topnotch form.”

Well, after hearing more messages from “other people” (close to me) and also listening more closely to “my gut” (the so-called “mouthpiece” of our feelings) … I decided that maybe my well made plan was not the way things, the trilogy specifically, ought to really be.

So I played around with some other ideas. I had plenty of ideas to choose from, some well formed, some in infancy. Some old, some new. I even re-read old awful and amateurish manuscripts of mine that I thought were likely candidates to take the place of my “well made plan” candidate. But … it wasn’t until today, just a few hours ago, in fact, that suddenly I had the ALL CLEAR signal from my gut that … indeed, I had alighted upon the “correct-for-NOW” decision. A choice that came completely as a surprise to me, out of the blue, but when it appeared … immediately felt “right” with my gut-detector.

What does this ALL CLEAR signal of the gut feel like?

First and fore-mostly, it’s a feeling. It’s not a thought, not a vocalization, not an intention or focus written out, like a fortune cookie’s. Yes, that feeling can eventually be reached by speaking aloud (sharing with others) or writing one’s thoughts out (blogging, storytelling, etc.) or even by participating in casual conversation. We always want to pay attention to what comes out of OUR own mouths. Because sometimes we hear things we say to others that we didn’t know we felt, not really, until our feelings get spoken-aloud-to-others, safely, without any threat of reaction.

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the energy of spoken/written words, “the matrika shakti”

This is the magic of the sharing process. That’s why “no cross-talk sharing” in the Twelve Step Programs works so wondrously, and are deeply healing. Because, when a person feels absolutely SAFE about what they are saying won’t be “judged” or “commented upon” (which is cross-talk) s/he get to hear how they really feel about something. I vividly recall, in my early days in the 12 Steps, hearing myself share, then being absolutely blown away  by … “I didn’t know I felt like that!” … immediately afterwards! It is truly a magical process, sharing aloud. I highly recommend it for anyone who is struggling with inner conflict of any sort. But choose trusted, safe people to do it with, please!

So the trilogy is now in its second phase of operation. I won’t reveal what the second book is about (other than “the healing of our human environment”) because I feel that talking about a writing project before it’s in its final stages is … akin to letting go of the contained energy needed to produce the magic of an insipired work.

Stay tuned for how this second book’s journey goes, because I love sharing with you. Even if it’s not about what I’m working on at my desk, there are a kazillion other things to commune about, aren’t there?

Let me know how you feel. SHARE with me here, c’mon! Here’s an easy form for you to do it. What you write goes only to me, privately, and won’t be public, ever.

Sending each of you my Love, wishes of fulfillment, and shared waves of JOY

LordFlea aka teZa Lord

 

 

The Party (and Religion) of LOVE

 

Hi there, Friend,

Guardian of the People, mixed media, 27“x60”

Guardian of the People (mixed media on felt)

Thanks so much for visiting my blog. I’m preparing my next book for publication but am spending 1-2 hrs each day learning, doing, marketing/publicity, to help spread the message of … LOVE, the theme of my last book (In the I, available at Amazon). So I thought I’d share a few thoughts about that, my favorite subject.

You and I are two of a kind. Why else would you be here, reading this? Some of our parallels and similar efforts are using the art of word-smithing to spread the Consciousness of Love where it most needs to be nurtured.

I was an ex-pat once. The re-entry process of living Stateside was very difficult for me when I came back, in 1980. I was a Caribbean ex-pat for the entire 70s. When I returned I had to give myself lots of T.L.C., and now that I’m back for decades … I seriously can’t wait to be an ex-pat again! My consort (26 yrs married) however, loves our little town of St. Augustine, FL where we live, so for now we’ll just be traveling. We prefer Latino cultures, and yes, both of us speak Spanish. Carter, my hub, much better than I, a mere beginner. He also speaks Portuguese, both of which he picked up in his twenties. We’re both in love with Peru, often visit Costa Rica, but next plan to explore Ecuador and more of Chile and northern Argentina.

Today the subject I’m posting about is Love and … well, let’s look at its exact opposite (in my opinion) … Politics, I have a few words to offer the discussion. Usually I don’t “talk politics” here on LordFlea AT ALL. But today I happen to have something important to add.

Of course, we all know of the huge schism that is present right now in America. It is my opinion, based on observation, interaction, etc. that people who are adamantly involved in loathing Trump are simply not believers in Love. They refuse to see that someone like T could be part of the “bigger picture.” That his administration is “Us” being taken hostages and not, simply couldn’t be! part of the Divine Plan of Universal Consciousness (aka “Love”). And toward that end, the dissers, dissenters, haters of “45” or other disrespectful name-calling these types seem to delight in, perpetuate separation and negativity. They spread hatred instead of accepting that “what is, IS.”

The man won. Democrats, just get over it! Just accept that your party did not win. Who cares about the popular vote? That’s not what America is about. Popularity has never been the deciding factor of politics. The electoral college (as complicated as it is) is the system that has worked since this country held its first election. The people of the farms have just as much to say about who’s running their political “game” as the people of any city. That’s why the electoral college MUST be more important that the popular vote. It took me a long time to understand this. But now I do.

Guardian of the Sky, mixed media, 27“x60”

Let go of Negative Thoughts (mixed media on felt”)

Just yesterday, for example, a confrontation happened that I want to share about. It’s typical about what’s going on here these days in contentious, explosive Amerikana. And why we need more folks like YOU who know that LOVE is the only answer. So here, yes, let’s talk politics, this ONCE!

yoga a la magritte

the Body Politic of Amerika, since Nov. 2017

Yesterday, my husband and I were in an elevator going to a celebration of “Living Legends” of nonagenarians in our community. These are 3 women and 2 men who were involved in early Civil Rights, and currently other aspects of social unrest like Black Lives Matter, and the #meToo movements. Wow, what strong African American folks, I’m so proud to be a human like them! Carter and I are good friends with one of the Legends, herself! Anyway, we were all crowding in to get to the 2nd floor where the luncheon was and here comes this man, a big man (let’s call him Len) like my husband, who knows us (we’re all arty types: he’s an actor/playwright, my husband a filmmaker; I’m writer/artist).

This man and his wife rush right in and Len sidles up to Carter and extends his hand. But when Carter firmly shakes Len’s, Len pulls back their handshake as if taking Carter’s hand all for himself, while laughing loudly so everyone (8 of us in the elevator) hears him say, “That’s a Trump handshake!” As if everyone were in agreement with his strong aversion to T. I immediately said, in a normal voice but pointedly polite, “Len, we don’t talk politics.” And he instantly turned and roared at me aggressively, “Well I DO!” So I (no wimp, self-admittedly) shot back, “Well sorry, we practice the religion of Love.” At that, the door opened and Len rushed out, followed by his wife and all of us went our different ways without another word between the four of us. Mind you, Len and his wife previously had always greeted me with smacks on my cheek as we are acquainted through the Arts. Not this time. The others in the elevator along with us — who’d silently watched this awkward scene, unfold instantaneously, combustively before them — scurried off, probably glad to be rid of all four of us.

some people just LOVE to argue and bitch and complain and conspire and .... yap yap yap!

some people just LOVE to argue and bitch and complain and conspire and …. yap yap yap!

As a side note, just after the election last November. another white friend approached me as I sat next to a black friend, and he, a notorious liberal clergyman, went right up to her and offered his handshake saying, “Allow me to apologize for who was elected President last night.” To which she, kindly taking the assured, collared man’s hand, replied, “What makes you think I didn’t vote for him?” And I witnessed for myself how a black middle-class woman defended herself, in the ensuing conversation, for having voted for Trump. The pastor had (quite incorrectly) assumed she’d voted for H, as he had, because of her skin color. The woman (a stranger to me) said not unkindly to the pastor, “Why are you calling me disenfranchised? I’m no such thing.” The clergyman became paler, aghast and embarassed! I realized in that instance that we can never “judge a book by its cover,” or, in this case, assume that because as person “looks a certain way,” that they are a Democrat or a Republic, a vegetarian or an omnivore, an agnostic or aetheist. A Hater or an ardent Lover of Spirit.

beginning never ends ... the spiral of life

WORDS … show where we come from … how we are … where we end UP!

Last night my husband and I discussed the elevator scene. Carter thought I was “asking for it,” by stating my truth so blatantly. I said, and still maintain, “I’m not going to be bullied by hate-mongers. I’m always going to tell, no, SHOUT!! to the world, that LOVE is the only solution. LOVE is my religion; LOVE is my political party!”

It’s a good discussion, one that goes beyond spirituality, rippling into politics and all aspects of society, for sure. A conversation of compassion and acceptance that we will inevitably be having many chances to refine, and practice in the coming years. Heal this schism in our social fibers, dear friend of Big Hearts — we MUST!

Our home is a mixed one, in more ways than just politically. I don’t “do” politics, and Carter (a former anarchist, today socially a Dem but fiscally, is a Republican) thinks T, even though of course he’s the ultimate buffoon, is doing great things for our country, nonetheless. My beloved consort felt Obama’s efforts were “ruining our country.” (Carter is a Harvard trained economist). But Carter and I are lovers of the Spirit, and … just as we allow each other to have our differences, our friends accept our strange cross-pollinated ways as well. We have a wide variety of wonderful and socially concerned, spiritually, culturally, enlightened friends. From “both sides” of the schism.

Me, I’m not a player. I refuse to play the games people play when they’re involved in such worlds as politics, sports, religion. It’s the same as far as I’m concerned for the Art World, which I laughingly call the “Ahrt” world. Ha! I’d rather just make art than play the games people do around it, buying and selling and turning art into a commodity.

a temple of nature---everywhere!

My creation is—a temple of nature—everywhere!

Just thought I’d share this one scene with you. Which, to me, is typical of what our country is going through, en masse. Most of my friends are liberal, but many are surprised to discover that my spouse is a stauch conservative, as both our kids are (aged 31 and 34). The liberals are, in many ways (I’ve seen far too many “elevator scenes”), becoming filled with such acrimony and hateful finger-pointing, that some are calling them the “party of hate.”

I’m now sure that an entirely new political party must be born out of the rubble of our broken two-party system. The system of two-alone to represent ALL in America, the Dems and the Reps, just doesn’t seem feasibly possible to be able to work together anymore. There’s been far too many impasses about urgent crises (the environemnt I’m talking about, folks!) to wait any longer for arguing politicians to be effective. Too few are willing to accept the wide differences separating the two parties. There’s too many implacable personalities clashing. People have forgotten that life-or-death issues are more important than personalities! Name-calling and loving-to-hate has taken over much of America’s collective consciousness, unfortunately. Sadly. But … not we believers of the power of LOVE.

A third major party is the best solution, in my humble opinion. And of course it HAS to be based on environmentalism (meaning, save our World’s resources) FIRST; economics (meaning, save people), second. Yet both considerations merge as ONE when people reflect upon any situation from the perspective of Love: meaning, the “greater Good.” Because, after all, if we have a toxic world, we’ll soon have no world at all. We must protect our planet, numero uno. Then … each of our nations can have their own national prosperity. I’d rather see the future be concerned about the unification of all nations, but I realize that’s not feasible during my lifetime. Maybe our children’s, though. The inevitability of all nations working together as ONE, will happen some day in the future. And that, of course, means worldwide Peace.

When that happens, our human species will be evolving into our next incarnation. Which, by the way, I predict will be named homo spiritus. BELIEVE IN LOVE!!

Meanwhile, I continue my spiritual activism, focusing on helping people realize that by holding positive thoughts, THAT is the best way to ensure a positive future for us all. Thoughts create everything. That’s why I’m hopeful. That’s why I choose LOVE above all else.

One-armed Angel (view 1), mixed meida, 30“x15”x8“

I am LordFlea, a lieutenant in the Army of Love

My religion and my political party is, always has and always will be — LOVE — another word for ONENESS.

I look forward to communicating more with you, my friend. Leave me your thoughts below.

Love and the Light of Conscious-awareness to us ALL!

Your pal, LordFlea, aka teZa Lord

http://www.tezalord.com for more