So What Do You Do With a Dippy Day, a Dippy Life?

Here you are doing a job or anything you don’t want to do, even living a life you don’t want to live.

You dream of what you have always wanted to do, what you were “born” to do: “Your Thing.” And then...JUNK comes pouring in -- Voices that you keep telling “SHUT UP!” “GO AWAY!” “LEAVE ME ALONE!” Thoughts you don’t want to think. Pictures from black holes of your mind you never want to see again but always come back to haunt you. Dumb stuff dumping on YOUR space (not the “real world” space), surrounds you like you’re stuck in the middle of a black balloon; pressing, pounding, mashing in on your head, your very body. Black-tar junk making you feel trapped in a box that will never go away.

And inside all of that is YOU screaming silently “HELP! Get me OUT of here!”
You let that go on for a while. At last you’re fed up. You in your tiny space stuck in the middle of the junk are now SWELLING MAD. And you now get bigger and bigger and bigger.

You mock up a gargantuan bulldozer. You rev it up and start pushing the voices and black-tar junk away. You keep pushing and pushing. You see a pinhole of light in your space. You keep shoving the junk off - more space opens, more light. You feel a hint of power coming from YOU.
You shove more and more and more. Now there’s more light in your space.
“It’s working! It’s opening!” Your dream seeps in. You swell with power.

You mock up a gale-force wind. The junk creaks and moans as you start to blow it off from around you. It resists your power. You expand and admire its insistence to keep you trapped. You expand more into a huge golden light. You permeate the junk like sunlight sifts through a morning mist. It starts to break up. You turn the remaining gray crumbs purple, then green, then orange, then blue. They dissolve into nothing. You look around. Your space (not the “real world”space) is clear. You’re no longer fighting a trap. You realize you are YOU and nothing else, not your body, not your mind and can make your dreams come true. The door to your future is open and you can make it what you will. WHEW!

Having Arrived in Your Dream - Now What?

You’ve made it through the junk of your Dippy Day, Dippy Life - or so it seems - and are now in YOUR DREAM. Since you opened its door and stepped in, you’ve felt exhilarated in every molecule of the moment. It’s YOUR game now. What now? Shall you savor it while wallowing in the deliciousness of your success or plunge in full throttle - Let it take you where it will?

You know every game has players, a playing field, barriers, freedoms and purposes. Well, we won’t think of the barriers now but just hone in on the freedoms and purposes. Let’s just relish the moment of arrival a while.

All right - that’s done. You’re still riding the stars in the fun and pleasure of it all, of being here, creating. You think of a purpose. You realize that the purpose is what is driving you to play your dream, your game. You realize you have the freedom to play, the freedom to decide the direction you want to go, freedom to be who you are, to do and have what you create, freedom to control the game, to communicate with players. And then you see there can be barriers to stop - or try to stop you from playing. What now? You feel a little sag, a little threatened. “Who or what could stop ME!” “Let them try!” With that you are pumped - then, surprise! - a brick wall sits square in front of you. You sag more. You feel heavier. Stumped. Stare at it, snarl, growl, glare at it, lie down. Take a nap. Wake up. It’s still there. You start to feel grim. Look for a way over, around or through. See no way. Shed some tears. Sigh. Go to bed. Wake up. Go through it all over again. “WILL IT EVER END!”. Wake up again, muster courage, decide to bootstrap it.

Suddenly you think of Purpose - Why you’re playing your dream, your game. You come alive, glowing. Golden sparks fill your being. Energy pumps through you. Power returns, infusing excitement. You get on with it like a comet that never looks back. You make a pact with yourself: “Keep Purpose Alive!” You realize Purpose expands your space, fires you up to drive you through any wall to make it crumble.

You smile, your day and life smile - no off-switch in sight. Your dream is ON.

Bucolic Yum-Yum

Whisper not on my bucolic yum-yum
for I will tickle your frolic where
it’s most licorice
and tie bows on the end of your rain to
see its downside grin;
Now bend your wits and with me leap rainbows
across calliope chuckles in the
no-winter whistles ho ho;
Yellow stars meet red twinkles orange;
We slide lavender ribbons to a spot in space
where no human has been
then dash laughing to rainbows downturned grin;
Here, where no logic lives, we make our own sense,
wiggling our wits where nothing whispers
but shouts universes with a no-mouth;
However you say it, it comes about
And then it is.

Honking Winter In

Amber-colored beaks honking winter in
while the sun brings dawn around for
roosters to crow about.

Beauty Enough Seeks

Amber giggles sprinkle tickles to a once-upon-a-mind;
A soul rises surprise on a golden ever that
never finds wisdom backward;
Yellow ginger, jasmine-sweet laughter in the air
where a song searching for an ear finds
a deity wherein genius is born
continuously,
a kind of golden magic of a muse blossoming logic
and spirit enough to fill any emptiness;
Beauty enough seeks souls open enough
to welcome its creation.

Roberto

You know from where your song sings,
from where there are no things to
distract your soul's emission,
from higher than breast or heart or
song itself, even higher than reason;

Another may think your body, a trained
machine, sings,
Such rhapsody comes from you know from
where your song sings: You,
weaving subtle golden threads of
melodic majesty,
delicate wanderings
fulfilling souls ravenous
for beauty,
speaking emotions of any color
from apathy to serenity,
spoken from your depth of soul,
Yes,
You know from where your soul sings.

Watusi Drummers

Bells on thin black ankles
ring sparkling crystal chimes
to the stars;
Long black arms move willowy
over white round drums
beating carmine and purple waves
caught by dancer's butts,
bouncing, gently thrashing to
jungle dew hovering through the twilight
to place kisses
on a royal deep blue midnight.