Life is what happens between our plans. What are you up to in the world? It seems transformation is the hot topic among the circles in which I now roam, and has been for a long while. Many of us are still in jobs or life paths that are mostly unfulfilling; maybe we continue doing them solely for the purpose of bringing home money and basic survival. I can relate.

     But there is the dream in your heart. That thing that dares speak up every so often saying something like, “… don’t forget about me.”   And as we get older it gets quieter, quieter, and one day it may just be gone. But it is never too late … to live your dreams, to enjoy your childhood, to live the life you have always dreamed. No matter in what conditions you now find yourself or what circumstances, that longing within you is within reach.

     Once you believe it, you will see it. All the tricks of changing our thoughts to change our life that we know so well, that we might have heard a thousand times, why do we so often try them but they seem to fail us? It is because there is something in the way. We try and create a masterpiece painting called our life, our dream, only we seek to do it upon a canvas that has already been used for something else.

     If it were only so easy as to run down to the local store and purchase a clean slate. We cannot hit the “easy button” on this, however. And here, many give up all-too easily, for it is the most demanding and difficult thing we might ever take on, but it is also the most freeing, expansive and soul-revealing undertaking to which we can commit ourselves. This brings us into the realms of human consciousness, of karma, of old hurts and wounds, of countless years of mental and physical and emotional stores of gunk, old programs, ways of being, neural pathways, memes, whatever names we give them. This business of personal growth and spiritual realization is not as tough as it seems upon taking the first steps, however. There is a power that exists within you, right now, perhaps untapped, that can accomplish all those things where “you” may have fallen short. But what if it is all for learning what you are not? Perhaps it is not the job that is unfulfilling.

     So the work must first be a sort of clearing, of “cleaning house”, an undoing of what we perceive as who we are, for too long now. There is a pre-requisite for this step to be taken; we must let go of the old ways. Surrender has its two sides as well, like most things in our dualistic universe. It is so hard and at first painful to let go, yet when we do, most say something like, “Why didn’t I do that a long time ago?” It takes what it takes to get us where we got.

     It is possible to change. It is possible to become unrecognizable to you as you, and to live the dream that whispers to you even right now. For God would not put a dream in your heart without also giving you everything you need to realize that dream.

Ode to Shakti

She listens, far and wide

Like a dream, an ocean, a sprite counting time.

She is there, in the ethers, yet strolls on the beach

What is this, divine seashell? A secret to tell?

Yes, I will listen, yes, I am.

O great ocean, you roar, but your might is so sweet

Take me you will, in a flash, an instant, but only in time.

Beyond the Forest too, I walked and I sang.

Strolling the trail, the trees they did watch.

A thousand eyes, staring at me, telling my secret

If only I could hear. And so listen I do, and listen I did

When I think all alone, knowing inside, life not my own.

Divine Mother, O divine Mother

You are here, the bosom, the fruit; how the wind can smile

What has opened mine eyes, in ways only so sweet?

Why was I blind, and deaf and asleep? Does not matter

No, does not care. Time is no time and thing not a thing

Listen by heart, everything sings.

One finds the path. It is good, long and not long.

One finds the truth; an uncovering, a removal, but not just from you.

Show me, sweet One, teach me to see.

I am willing and willing and would love to be wrong.

Open thine eyes in forgiving the past

I will guide, show, help and support.

The rain is here, the rain is here.

It pours on the head and brings its ten thousand gifts.

A shelter you build, to find dry and cocoon.

The rain it pours, mighty monsoon.

You watch, listen, seek and shall find.

The rain has a secret, she tells it to you.

O, divine Mother, let me rest in you awhile.

Before I pretend again and again. Before I hide lest I fail

And bitter so sweet, but the rain, her secret …

The Ocean, her treasure.

A desert, the sands …

Divine Mother, please take my hand.

I am ready, to give up my plight

I am ready, divine Mother, to be set all right.


Creature, Sing; Creator, Shout

*****                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               May 26, 2015

Ah, sweet day. Who am I to argue? If she wants to bring me happiness, should not I just allow it to be? And it is true, for my heart sings today in sweet delight. Yes, grandiose and too full of feeling and more, and here we are, unfettered by the once-fear whose name we dare not whisper lest we be struck down with the dreaded affliction.

And a moment ago was a thing there, whose now disappeared behind the bush and the rock, hiding only from what never was. “How have you been,” she asked, a question which did not beg any response. It was a mere fact; How have you been. 

And, how I have been. Standing there one day, the realization deluged me; I was not alone. What treasure hide ‘neath rock and wind, for I have now seen the odd creature handing out certificates to those who dare. Slither, slide, wane and wander, what was your name, but do I not care. For I have seen you and now you linger again. But, I do not care, and care so much.

So once again, as we sit and sip tea, tell me your story, the story, the thing you love to talk about and I love to hear. Especially the part about the great howl that took the world, the tremendous lunge and lurch that, when we saw it together, we gasped in awe and shot up, and up, then out and around. Yes, it was you who gave me calm and composure, but I did not scream; we only observed.

It went by, that thing, that creature, handing out things to hungry takers. But when it found me there, sitting alone only with you, I heard the great crackling and cackling and I was charmed again by the morbid reflection of my own self back at me.

“She is sweet, don’t you think?” he could have answered but did not, only stared the stare of those who do not care. And I took it, found it and saw it in him that day, as we sipped tea and sang the song of the sage, together, yet alone, and wanting nothing anymore because we are free.

And so the creature came. And when it did not see us, for we were alone, I was given the chance to see that it was not all anger and gristle but that he was in pain, and she was hurting, and so a thing came from me, like an arrow loosed of the bow, a stone tossed from my hand. I could feel and can now, the stirring, the movement, the dance of the dance and song of the night. And, knowing the great secret, I gave it away.

A moan, a groan, a scaled hand drags the ground leaving its trail of droll and its dark night of the soul. But it did not matter, not to me nor him nor her, the creature, the thing that could not be.

“May I sing to you?” I do say yes, I do love you. Your voice it quivers as the harp, and whose wind sings in the tree, how have you known for so long that it was here, as it is, this thing I never could find and now is mine?

“A creature’s delight comes not by the river’s meander, nor by the night giving moon the shine of the season. A creature is ne’er heard when she comes, dragging her tail and moaning its groan.”

“But I heard it, saw and watched as she did!” I swore it was true.

“You were there but your eyes were pasted with a century’s sleep and your feet were weary from the long journey. I could come, and show you, but you could not see. Not any, but now there are few. So now I have come, now am I here, to show and show again the few who will let it come.”

“Of what do you speak, and how could it be, this spiel you spoil and snares to a snag?”

“Ah, a riddle not to be solved is the sweetest of story, a night to be heard the day’s delight by sea.”

And so we laughed, aloud, under the moonlight’s glare and the sweet night air. A ship passed by, so stealth that not until it was nearly upon us did we gasp as its massive hull all but scraped our noses clean and away. It ripped me, organ from organ and skin from bone. It ripped me.

I turned to the creature, the sweet soul who’d brought its odd gift of nothing. I looked in her eye and asked her again, why do you come, by whose decree, why are you here, to show only me.

“There is no other.”  

And so I looked back into me, myself, with me and by me, and there she was. The creature inside, the night air could not hide. One leaf, a tree, a mighty ‘nother howl; just once more.  Let me cry in the night, with all that I am, and sing my song, even if it become long, too long, lest I am old and weary.

I will sing the song, and it is me. The creature inside, the creature is me.


Spring’s Reminder

March 19, 2015, 10:16 a.m.

As good a time as any. A bald Eagle literally just flew onto a branch not 30 feet outside my window, as if to say, “You’re on the right path.” He’s still there, watching. I feel like a happy child in many ways, a simple life has now replaced the complicated, for multiple years now. As my friend Stephen Buhner says, It’s never too late to enjoy your childhood.

It feels like that. I am child-like, but not child-ish … well, maybe sometimes. Life is a grand adventure, and nature is always rich with teaching and learning. Not sure just how I wound up here, living on a serene, beautiful lake, with the elements all so close. Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and so many more.

But never mind that, for there are things to do in the world, right? Maybe.

Spring has come early this year, cherry blossoms raining down, even now. We have gardens to plant, children to raise, animals to tend. We have real-life stuff, some people transitioning out of their bodies, new ones coming in. Life is life-ing, and here we are.

Today my heart overflows with a simple gratitude. I love my friends and my family, enjoy witnessing the miracle of spring do its thing. And I get to go play in it.

Happy spring to you. I think of the victories of life, the defeats, the ups and downs, that spring will come and go, then will summer be here, fall and winter, too, and I’ll probably write you about all that, again. Thank you for reading, by the way. I love to watch the young people’s eyes as they grow, and have been around long enough now to see kids turn to adults, then have their own kids. I’ll certainly never figure “it” out, and enjoying it is far sweeter than that, anyway.

There is one thing I have learned, however. The sweet and the sour, the joys and sorrows, a simple lesson has come through all of them, a kind embrace and an easy truth …

This too shall pass

So Many People!

January 19, 2015

Have you a dream in your heart? We all do. What stops us from realizing this dream? Only we do. For any undertaking in the universe of time and space, someone has come before. Maybe not just the way you or I show up with a similar idea, but there are no real original ideas. We can google whatever we are interested in and someone is doing it. This can be disconcerting, or it can be fascinating. It also works in reverse; how many times have you come upon a notion or a pathway, something that inspires you and suddenly, over the next days and weeks, people spouting the very same idea(s) are popping up all over the place, as if to say, “We came up with that first.” How small this can make one feel. But do not negate your true incandescense.

Something is indeed going on in the world of imagination and creativity. Especially now, with planet Earth as packed full as it is. I realized a simple yet profound thing: If our population was suddenly reduced to just 5%, there would still be about 400 million humans traversing the terrain of our precious planet. That is still a staggering number! (This is based on my own postulation that earth’s population is actually closer to 8 billion than the numbers commonly given.)

It always amazes me that there are so many seemingly separate beings alive at this point in time. And with the internet, which is really just now ramping up, we are at an all-time high for accessing information – and each other. So many times, I’ve come up with one of those “original idea” and googled it, only to find that there are a plethora of others with the very same original idea. But there is a paradox that can be easily overlooked when we underestimate ourselves.

We are both so very special and not that special at all.

I love this! Unique humbleness, perhaps. Inherent in each of us, whether it be one, ten or ten billion, just like no two faces are just the same, is a specialness that we can use in at least two ways. When we try and be cool or be the best at something for merely personal gain, it’s like being the fastest gun in the west; someone will always come along that betters us. But when we give that gift, offer it back to humanity, offer it back to our Source, we actually become inspired by the similarity that we once abhorred, and welcome others to come along that wish to share the same or very similar gifts. Here, they become gifts for the world instead of trophies of dominance for only ourselves.

In the depths of hell we can find the blackest of hate, or we can find the light switch. Go deep enough into chaos and order is found; order things enough and it becomes perfect chaos. Notions such as these have always fascinated me, and sharing with you (whoever may be reading) has become my most cherished treasure. Some of the writers, speakers and sages who have put their thoughts out to inspire me have become my closest friends, even if they have long since given up the form which once encased their precious souls. I find great comfort in what they found within and cared to take the time to articulate and share a hundred or five hundred or five thousand years ago. Somehow, whether through papyrus, stone or carbon, their writings, their deepest thoughts and imaginings found their way to me. And with them comes a sort of responsibility.

So, I realize that every encounter is a divine encounter. Whether we come upon each other in the streets or by a more modern method, let us remember this: Each of us has the divine gift within. We are either emanating love or a cry for love; we are either sharing what we are, or looking for what we are. When we find the preciousness of eternity within, our special and un-special divine gift, and choose to share it, do we stumble upon the golden key and settle into a more natural state, a state which needs not recognition to flourish.

Here, the gates of ignorance can be undone and we can find what we have always sought. The ripples caused by the dropping of this single pebble might surprise you. Love is real … what if nothing else was?

A New Treasure


Shine Your Light – January 1, 2015

This first morning of a brand new year, not far into a century which seems to have only begun itself, I awake to find myself happy with the simplicity of what is in front of me now. What a gift.

Blessed with beautiful natural surroundings, I often wonder how I got here, especially considering the likes of where once I dwelled, the strange and dangerous places that my very thinking mind called forth and into being. I can remember other frigid mornings, just like this one, where I was not anywhere near OK, let alone warm and blessed and happy. And this time was within this new century, visible still in the old rear-view mirror, a once-me shivering inside an awful emptiness and loneliness. But that person and those situations are not who nor where I am now, by a long shot. So often do I sit in awe that we can change our lives so drastically with only the seeds of willingness.

A gaze out the windows brings a veritable, living, Norman Rockwell view of planet earth that is a pristine chunk of the Pacific Northwest. A fire warms us inside, the dogs and cats and me, the lake sits still as she ever has, a light mist crawling along her mirror-surface, only light ripples so subtly distorting the reflection of the yawning trees, whose tips are painted with easy strokes of a rising sun.

It is so still and quiet and peaceful here, as I write to you. And as the sun continues to come, the view will change and the mist will disappear and then a new instant will be upon us. We will need to go somewhere and do something, maybe. But today is New Year’s Day, a day that has never before been nor ever will be again. All that is seen will transform into something else, and the now moment will become but a memory, replaced only with another, then another, and on and on.

We have only the moment we are experiencing. Everything we do right now determines not only our state of being, but also helps to bring into the realm of experience what we will know as who we are and what we have chosen as our lives. It is here we can relinquish our victim status and claim the creative essence that some find and live, fully activated, and others choose to let lie dormant, looking for the light with the light. The great news of this now moment is that within each and every being, no matter its current circumstance, is this divine power and ability present. It is only a matter of claiming, invoking and allowing it to lead instead of some smaller estimation of what we are.

This is not a process of denial, but rather one of acceptance. Maybe you are locked up, either literally in a jail, or by a set of conceptions of what you can or cannot do; if we take an honest look, this can be as much of a prison as any other locked set of doors. And so, the first step is our acceptance of where and what is our current circumstance. Really, this process is how we either stay where we are, or grow into something else of which we are co-creators. Our living world is not as physical as it may seem. The ability to change comes from beyond thinking.

We literally live life from the future, projecting out a view of what reality is and then living right into it. We call up events and people to provide evidence that our viewpoint is valid, thereby acknowledging our being right. We all love being right, and we are. No one is more right than another, contrary to popular belief.

We can accept what we have forged in perception, and take a good look at it. On this First Day of the year 2015, we can set resolutions that may fade away and wonder again why they did not “stick.” But we can make a new kind of resolution. We can turn the lens inward and make not resolution, but alter our very core intention of what will lead – and what we are for. Will it be what always has been, to bring us to where we did not wish to be?

Let us replace “I cannot do it, it is too hard, I don’t have enough this or that, I am limited in my resources, I’m too tired, broken, overweight, sad, mad, depressed, I’m fine just the way I am,” with:

Abundance surrounds me. I am an expression of divine love whose supply is limitless. All is possible. The ability to change is real. I am not my thoughts nor my body. The ability of choice is within me now. Every problem that comes my way also comes with a natural solution, and that problem will soon be revealed as a huge gift for me and for others. Each person, place and thing that crosses my path is a divine encounter, bringing with it another piece of the puzzle and a clear message. I am guided by the entire universe and the love that allows all of life to be and to flourish. I am listening.

I am a writer, and this was not always so. I literally began from utter desperation, as a way to escape the insanity of my thinking. A little yet profound trick of human nature is that anything we do for around 30 days can and often does become habit. Some of these habits, obviously, are more desirable than others, and all bring about results. I noticed early on that in writing, there was what I was writing, which was often just my thoughts, but then there was an observer “me” witnessing this writing. Aha! I said. Who is this dude watching me? Over time, I could see that what I thought was in truth only one possible set of options as what I believed myself to be. I had currently called these options “reality,” to which I was a victim.
This could be changed; the witness helped, and tremendously. The observer “me” helped to form new intentions and these intentions brought a whole new way of thinking, as if somehow purified from a horrifying basic delusion, and my life began to change. I believe that possible in all human beings is the ever-present ability to change what we believe ourselves to be and instead find and live the inherent Truth. But this did not come from where I had always looked, where the true power was not allowed. Free will, a blessing or a curse? How about you?

May all your wishes be fulfilled.


I See You December 18, 2014

ωhat are we here for? ωhat am I here for?             

Maybe you have asked yourself stuff of this nature. It can feel like trying to run from ourselves while such questions haunt us, hungry ghosts closing-in. We may be doing very noble things here on the planet, or we may be living a life of continual actions we do not really want to be taking. In either case and in every possibility in between, often times we can find ourselves feeling like it is a useless cause, this human existence thing, this strange dichotomy of life in a body with needs, wants and desires.  How can we know joy if we never know sorrow?

Have you ever taken a real and honest look at yourself? When you ask this question of ‘yourself,’ what comes up, welcome or unwelcome? For what is the self, really? Is it our body, our thoughts, what we do, our family, our job, our undertakings? We are seemingly complex creatures in an even more complex cosmos, often doing quite mundane-feeling things.

But, the world is waking up. Are you? Do you care to awaken from the deeper dream? If you were to honestly stop and look in the mirror, look at yourself beyond the shell, what you do, what your beliefs are, what drives you … could you handle what comes? Will you pretend to know it all? Perhaps this is where addiction comes from, and there is so much to be addicted to, so many possible diversions in this odd, choice-laden multi-verse of existence.

We can be addicted to drama, sex, drugs, booze, cigarettes, work, each other, endless seeking, the list goes on and on. The initial problem with self-awareness is that we become aware of ourselves. Inherent in self-realization is the seedling of responsibility to begin living our lives in a way that has true value. It is difficult to let go of vices, this I have learned first-hand. In all the addiction that has seemed to plague me, it was not until fairly recently that a hidden spring of truth within began to make itself known. In fact, it was through stifling addiction and the intense g-force downward spiral threatening to rip me to pieces that somehow the strength was found to look in the mirror and ask myself the most difficult questions of this lifetime:

What am I for?

How useless I had always felt! Maybe you can relate. It was here, in utter despair, that I began to realize a more capable power could be allowed to flow through instead of trying so hard and feeling like a failure at every turn. It was only me that made that failure-prophecy come true, for sure. But, it does not have to take this kind of despair to realize surrender of the old ways and allow our true Self to lead. For someone like me, an extreme ego-maniac, it did take the great despair. The trick for me: I did not know I was living as this kind of person until the willingness to ask the life-changing questions did come:

Who am I?

When we set out to live our life for a greater good, we find the ability to forgive. But forgive what? What a gift was that precious desperation. When one engages the sincere undertaking of asking these more difficult and fundamental questions, the answers just come, as if they were simply awaiting an invitation. The answers are always there and always will be, deep inside, encoded within the very essence of our being. They are only obscured and atrophied by functions of a smaller-self.

So often, we see people who portray an image of cockiness or self-sureness, of having ‘it’ all-together, or knowing everything about everything. (I can relate.) But this is often a masquerade ball, a racket, a smoke screen diversion to mask the real issue of not having a clue and feeling so lost, alone, not worth-while – of not belonging.

It is through the simple admission that we are lost and need help that often shifts an entire life’s course. When we choose to learn what we are for, it feels like finding a worthy and true path. Nothing has ever felt more like being home than finding purpose deep within the core of my being and then choosing to find this within others. Honestly enquiring, I have never not found a unified spirit, no matter how distressing the disguise through which I am looking may at first appear.

We all have profound purpose, a divine gift, a well-spring of talent. Will you look and find yours? Will you share it with the world and become what you are?

Thank You

Summer’s Sweet Lullaby


A chicken cackles as she squeezes out an egg, her voice soaring over the morning ripples of the deep, still lake.  Water lilies line the banks, white flowers popping among their thousand-green pads. Grandmother Cedar stands calm and stoic, so big around it would take five people hand-in-hand to encircle her in a hug. No car can be heard, not here.

The water knows in hours we shall jump into her cooling embrace and forget about the silly rushing world only miles away. Three wiener dogs are lazy already, and the cats prowl the yard in search of an insect to jump after or a mouse to chase away. Tomato yellow-flowers come even between blinks and the greens stalks inch toward the sun by the second, asking for a drink now.

It is always the very moment we are in that peace can be found. Maybe it’s easier in Summer, bare feet and tank tops. But always, that peace comes from within. A super moon just days ago tugged at my heart during an evening kayak. I could hear her singing through the rhythmic splashing of the oars in the water, and as I let the vessel slow to a drifty halt to listen, she became still, quiet, watching me. She asked me for a song, and I offered one to her, a serenade, a gratitude, a happy evening hum into the pink hours-long sunset just behind the evergreen standing-tall brothers and sisters who dance along the shore of our happy little lake.

Another season will come, soon enough. And I will choose my happiness in that moment, too. For my gratitude is not contingent on the rain or the sun or the stars or the moon, but in what I do, now. Today let me breath the breathe of Mother Earth; let my eyes be the stars.

All that I am, I offer at the Altar of Love

Available Now!

A Thousand Screaming Monkeys

by Kevin A. Hart

Kevin’s story begins in a treacherous place, a state of mind and body so hideous that he practically invites getting his head blown clean-off by a double-barrel. 

Read more


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