Homer Free

blue guitarist3

HOMER FREE

Holiday inns and ways
to escape
the core of my being
the life in my days.

There’s dialogue with others.
There’s hope midst despair.
There’s love in my living
Not getting stuck in repair.

So, I’m singing my song
Painting my poem
There’s love in my living
when I am being home.

Walking across the brilliant white hot pavement in one side of Big Spring park behind my house, I happened upon this homeless guy who I’ve seen all over downtown Huntsville. I’ll call him Homer, though I’ve been reluctant to engage him in conversation and don’t know his name

He carries all of his goods in a kind of basket and shows up rolling it, walking or sitting on a park bench around town. I think he might be a vet who hasn’t recovered from PTSD because I saw him often at the VA clinic when it was downtown; they never kicked him out and he never caused trouble, though he sometimes talked to himself inaudibly.

This morning he was throwing something white on the ground near the park bench, and I thought, “He’s littering the park with waste”. When I got next to him, however, he was drying his wet socks on the hot pavement in the sun.

God Bless you Homer in your freedom to be and on your arduous journey.

The Power of Intention

Vision Board - 2018

It was New Year’s Eve day, and the temperature had dropped significantly below freezing. I was driving to go for a walk at my pond and then pick up some food. Halfway there, my car began overheating. It soon got up to hot on the gauge as I was trying to get to AutoZone to see if they could assess the problem and maybe give me some antifreeze. My car started steaming, so I had to pull over in the parking lot of the Blue Plate Café on Governors, the main road. I called my road service and they got me down to AutoZone. They happened to be open, but could not help me. So I got a friend to help me get my car over to my auto repair shop, which was about ¼ mile away.

I left the car there for when they would come back to work on January 2. On Wednesday, my mechanic called and said that the radiator had cracked and needed to be replaced. He explained that the car was old, so the radiator had just worn out in the cold. When a well-intentioned friend called him the next day, she told me the mechanic had informed her there might be possible trouble with the engine. She sounded glum and talked about the prospect of not getting my car back. I just told her I will set an intention for the best possible outcome. I did not talk to my mechanic until the next day, and had a fitful sleep recalling what my friend had said. I, however, had this voice inside that said,” It will be OK, tomorrow.”

The next morning I decided to follow my inner council and trust implicitly my power of intention; I listened to an Intention Meditation, and visualized the positive outcome I wanted and what my inner voice had counseled me. At about 8:30 AM I called my mechanic. His first words were, “They’re out there test driving your car now. You can come and pick it up.” I felt a surge of elation and victory, and I called another friend to take me to the shop.

Trusting my power of Intention, I thought what an illustration of my picking up and trusting my power of intention in these conditions, not listening to outer voices and conditions, but listening to my interior spirit.

The Duck walking on Water

That afternoon I finally went out for a walk at the pond, and amazingly most of the pond was frozen over with a thin sheet of ice. There was, however, a small section of the pond where the water was not frozen, and there was a group of ducks swimming in that area. All of a sudden I spotted one duck that seemed to be walking on the water right where the others were swimming. I thought, “Boy the Spirit is out here at the pond today.” There surely are a lot of mysteries and beauty on and around this pond where I go for meditation. Manifesting this intention in so dramatic a way has also been a mystery to me. I stood there in wonder and profound gratitude.

On This Christmas Morning

On This Christmas Morning-2017-8

The snow is melting, now, on this Christmas morning,
revealing of the dormant Earth below.
We gather ‘round our tree of many colors,
Exchanging gifts and all the love we can show.

The sun is showing again above the mountain
Even in this darkest time of year.
The miracle of the light comes celebrating
The time to share the gifts will always be here.

We gather celebrating of life’s miracle
We gather celebrating the virgin birth,
And sing our songs for love of baby Jesus,
Can you sing some prayers for love of Mother Earth?

Now, Santa has gone back to his home in the North Pole,
leaving a song and gifts for all of us to see.
Gone with all his sleigh and magical reindeer
All the gifts for you and for me.

And Spring is only now
A far away fantasy,
A place waiting for
All our dreams to grow,
Knowing that the energy here is biding,
We celebrate this chrysalis morning glow.

Richard Evan MacKay

**This song came as an inspiration during the Christmas season when I happened to be feeling sad and lonely, ruminating about the recent transition of my mother that year.

Look what I can do!

Little Girl

I was walking along the Greenway near a street named Mira Vista, and there was this little girl about maybe three or four years old on a small pink bike with training wheels coming toward me. Her father was some distance back. She started picking up speed as she approached and shouted gleefully, “Look what I can do!”

Wow, this sentence stayed in my heart. Life is full of the expected and then the really unexpected. She was facing the challenge of riding a bike and feeling very proud of herself for doing it. She didn’t say to herself, “Well, I’m not that good yet. “or “I hope I don’t fail.” She was in the moment, lavishing the victory, and telling her dad and the world, “Look what I can do!”

Every time I don’t acknowledge myself and my actions in going toward what I love or I have one of these critical voice self-criticisms of my own actions, I will remember her and her joy, and say to myself, “Look what I can do!”

Memoir to My Father

boy-and-father

To My Father
(Perhaps this poem is about seeing
the Fullness even in the Emptiness)

I stare now at this cup
half full and half empty
like a funny Zen poem
looking for the plenty.

I listened to the sermon:
“He’s in another place,
and won’t be here now with you.
Go to school and wash your face.”

Learned to learn real good,
to write, to run, to talk.
Feelings all tapped down
except on lonely walks.

But friends were there to play
Sing a song or play a game.
I managed the routines,
though my heart found other ways.

Though I learned well not to cry,
When I found you had to die.
My heart knows well the time
when your love was by my side.

Touch My Heart With a Song

young-girl-with-accordian

It was a dark night. I was feeling detached and tired as I listened again to my still small voice within; it said,” Go in and sing with her”. I picked up my guitar and songbook, and went in and asked her if we could sing together. Her answer was an affirmative “yes”, though I knew she was shy and embarrassed about her own singing voice because in growing up her family had poked fun at her singing voice.

Nonetheless, I started with a rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In”. She had shared that that song was the last song in a funeral orchestration that her best friend had put together for her own last rites. That song was heartily sung by everyone in the service, sending her friend rousingly into eternity. I was moved by that story recounted to me by her and her other friend when they returned from the service.

After that song I followed it with a song I had written specifically for Nancy called “Nancy’s Song”. She loved it and I sang a few more songs out of my songbook with her. All her agitation and moodiness (she has dementia) melted like butter with the music. After a few songs she began to talk about experiences with her family growing up, and I recounted experiences with my family, growing up in Detroit. It was heart to heart conversation. It was truly breakthrough in relationship at least for the moment.

This story and experience illustrates what music is to me. First it is a tool I use to free myself from my logical, left brain. Music can often free us emotionally and from stress. I believe that music is both an avenue from and to divine spirit or consciousness. I don’t limit this to one particular religion. Lastly, I believe music connects us to our own deeper self, to each other, and to Source or to God. This is what music is to me.

This is what I love, my passion. What is your passion?

Self Acknowledgement

Man with Guitar

2017 is just in its infancy, and I’m embarking on creating a new music CD, and what’s coming up is this inner voice of holding on and self-criticism which is saying that what who I am and what I’m doing “is not good enough”. I say to it, “Enough”. It’s been a challenging time caring and working with someone, but I’m on the other side of that assignment, and it feels good and I can acknowledge myself and her for the time spent. Rather than the critical thinking and self-criticism from my early conditioning in growing up, I am practicing love, self-acknowledgement and acknowledgement of others more in my life this year. This will move me ahead on my music project and in my life this year.

Criticism has been a familiar aspect of the American social environment, especially in its blatant exposure in last year’s political race and beyond. I don’t believe criticism helps to heal or unite us personally or socially, rather it divides us up culturally, racially, economically, or in other ways. It lifts up one point of view and downgrades and attempts to discredit another. That is not what I believe or will stand for.