addiction, Uncategorized

ONE YEAR RESTING

072816FSOY001

It has now been a little over a year since my last drug use. I share no pride nor surprise about this news, it just is what it is. It came about in a dramatic ending in a masterful collaboration between the forces that be and me. I attracted the situation that led to an overdose and the rest is history. I have never had a serious desire to step back into the meth death pool to date.

Addiction, a word I have never cared to use, and respectfully encourage limited use of with others. “Addiction”not my issue, my theories surrounding addiction continue to be supported time and time again. Addiction is not the root of the “problem” it is the result of an inner issue, a deeper issue, not the cause. I’d like to take a moment at this time to encourage anyone who is working on “addiction” issues. If comfortable, to let go of terms such as disease, addiction, or defective along with a few others used in traditional 12 step program (not a dis). And for a few moments refocus on some positive concepts.

First I would like to state there are no defective human beings. Many of us have been exposed to some tough experiences in our younger years, have had learning issues, specifically on the autism spectrum or started using in our teens or twenties. In some cases we may have experienced or witnessed a trauma of some sort or experienced great loss.

The majority of heavy substance use or other acting out behavior. Is in fact based not so much on “addiction” rather as behavior patterns. An inside reaction to an outside occurrence, love yourself enough to care correctly for yourself. LISTEN TO YOUR GUT!

No one in my eyes can get healthy from any situation in life based on being told they are defective. Or told daily that they are an addict and always will be. This is like trying to go to school to get an education and being told you are stupid everyday.

This of course is only my opinion based on my amazing little journey in life. But I have seen a lot of shit, I have been to hell and back a few times. I believe we are all good people, we are simply learning, living, healing and being. I believe that love is what heals, there are many methods of support, there are many ways to heal and move forward. If you can’t find a way, make one up, it worked for me.  I have found that many people have very good intentions based on the intentions of those before them. But it does not mean that they have a clue to what you are going through.

Find your quiet space in your heart, let it guide you to the right place should you need outside guidance, help or even medical.

If  you are insanely over the edge as I once was, hang in there, remain open, trusting and honest. Meth is tricky, and it messes with your head, if you are still in the messy zone you have to trust another until you have clarity… enough said. I leave my words resting here.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

Standard
guncontrol, orlando, Peace, Uncategorized

MOW-MY ONLY WISH

MOW
Music: The Journey
By: Elliot Goldenthal
From: Frida Soundtrack

PT 1: DEATH AND RESPECT
chicago vigil for the orlando massacre
PT 2: PASSAGES THROUGH DARKNESS
mourning & contemplation
PT3: FUTURE LIFE
rebirth, hope, love, light “one tribe”

A TEMPORRAY FEELING:
I am a simple man, pale in palettes of formal education and training, often I stumble for words and my technique can be on the primitive. At the time of this writing, my tone is overshadowed by casualties, bullets and hate.

The original direction of this piece was intended as a video offering only. Created to honor the victims of the Orlando massacre that had taken place on the evening of June 12, 2016. As words wrestled within my head for voice and release, I eventually concluded I had no other choice than to set them free. Allowing them to roam as they may as co-creators for peace in flux’s of love and rage.

Many of us feel wounded, as we attempt to make sense of this deeply dark fundamental wrong that has riveted near and through innocent young bodies. We may not know how to label, understand, or harness our own emotions during these times, this is only natural. Keep in mind many are sharing these same experience and we must gently strive to be sensitive, restorative, loving and aware of each others human condition. Take pride in your sensitivities, take pride in your awareness, take pride in your ability to be a peacekeeper. These are actions of love, actions we take for the living and in honor of those who have gone.

The effects of mass trauma and emotional unrest belong to no specific age, gender, race, or tribe. As creatures of this earth we are all connected, the energy that can flourish from an intense tragedy is often manifested in emotional or an energetic density. Although this energy is not visible to everyone, it is thick enough on a sensory level that most can feel it. Think “bad or heavy-vibes.” In times especially like these again I stress the importance of being patient, kind and loving in all of our actions. Be aware of misplaced feelings within yourself as well as your peers. Post tragedy or trauma is often a time when people “act out” in ways they normally may not.

Many of these “heavy vibe” or “static emotion” energies you may sense around you have been sparked by the Orlando 49 tragedy. Along with the countless other “casualties” of gun violence who have met their fate without choice, without prayer and assuredly with little or no voice. These absurd situational moments of continual repeat seem anything but casual to me.

I made this video specifically to honor the lives lost during the “O/49” massacre on the day I ironically began my 53rd year of living. Intended as an energy transfer, less self more light. It only seemed to have backfired, pricking a temporary fury. Fractionally due to an outbreak of local violence. One day following the final video edit, here in this normally quite cluster of blocks where I reside. In what I often refer to as the Park of Oaks, a full on police shut down was enforced as yet more shootings echoed from corner to expressway. I asked the empty air and blue sky above, why and when will these reckless shootings end? In Chicago firearm violence continues to exceed expectations. I ask again asked the same questions of my God, Angels and Guides…TELL ME WHEN WILL IT END, this self dismemberment of society, when will it end?!?

Oh these middle ages of mine, toss me increasingly into fits of anger. My spiritual roots once more lapse into a dry black upheaval. My philosophies appear to be nothing more than smoke, mirrors and several hanks of question marks. Robe of light that cloaks my soul I toss you once more into my surrender fire. Drenched in the collective blood of my sisters and brothers. In hope of spiritual cure and lift. I/we must remain lustful for hope – I have begun to question this “hope” that has always saved me from depths of black. To question hope is a dangerous space for anyone to believe in, a frightful place, not made for the weak of spirit or mind. Those with a vacant conscious or the yearling of new souls. will find existing with questionable or no hope difficult to seed, flourish or be at peace in.

FROM WHERE I SIT:
Shredded tween vacant legs, and scattered head. I look down upon my trembling heart begging for attention, not rejection. I see a golden spear of light that spikes bright. Ignored by choice, I just can’t, I no longer can trust my heart speak. (I correct myself) I can, it is more that I fear trusting my heart in this moment earthly chaos. I have begun to cave, this global static is to much for sensitive digestion. My nerves have been numbed by my own routine life let alone the mounting bullets and gravestones.

I stare at my pulsing muscle of life as it gleams like gristle covered in fresh spit and one last tear. Burnt by front page news it murmurs in sorrowed tones while sucking dust off cool grass neath my feet. As I sit in my beloved Columbus Park. In a moment of quite earth solace and distorted “head space” meditation. My eyes are unable to blink, in poor posture, I wilt forward with my willow branched back. Heavy, with weight and query I continue to count the wasting hours, I loose track of minutes and light. Immobile, from where I sit, I wonder have I really given up on listening to my higher self. My higher self that dwells soft light and patient within, above, around and whithin all things. As my ignored heart continues to beg for ear and understanding. I insist that it only speaks a language of my lost “GODS” translation. You see, I have allowed my natural human experience of anger and doubt to temporarily clutter my interpretations of light and clarity. This to shall pass as they say, I sometimes dislike these slogans but … TTSP.

THE “H” WORD:
Hate is a feeling my source-self does not understand, not in any true sense of the word. Even with the acts of extreme violence used against and within my own flesh I have never come to a point of true gut “hate” towards those 11 men. Anger… YES, Rage… YES, Hate NO. Absolutely never a desire to act out in any criminal, spiritual, physical or humanly unjust way. I do not understand this craving to dismantle a human life. Or to disfigure the natural flow and progression of another persons experience with intent. I understand we all have an effect on each-other, this is part of the beautiful rhythm of our existence, this is why we are here. For us abruptly reroute or dismember a persons path is unthinkable either by weapon or word.

PAPER TEARS:
Tired eye’s flutter shut like pages from a book of required tween-age reading. After rest I pull up a photograph of a man crying on my phone. I, myself have exhausted almost all functions of ducts and flow. I now have become one of “them”… I have become emotionless. You know the type of man, he who shrugs his shoulders as evening news plays repeat of stories of death, wrecks, war or natural disasters. No! I refuse to be saturated with the essence of this particular breed of social disorder or personal conduct. I now liberate myself from my temporary diseased moment of void. A natural reaction to completely toxic situation induced by demon and man.

I am in shock, just as I had been as the twin towers crumbled down creating ash coated zombies. Dazed and mentally distorted as they shuffled empty eyed with pumps and wing tips in hand. One by one they passed my shop of employment as I and others much younger stood, stunned and vacant. I remember that September morning at the corner of Broadway and Houston as if it where this very second. It is the same echoed feeling that resonates when I shed denial once more entering into the throne room of remembrance of friends. Transcending in masses of static flashes from life to death. Zapping, up and out endless and fast. Some called it an epidemic, some called it a collective spiritual rise, I still do not don’t know what to call it.

That’s it! I now can excuse my moment of emotional vacancy, I am human that is all. Whatever it is, my need to fix thing’s once again begins to kick in and I cut a paper tear from one of my many journals. With a dab will do ‘ya of saliva, I place the paper tear beneath my right eye. Still numb, I bark out loud in self anger, “THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT!” and just as quickly pull the tear from my eye and release it to the elements. Looking back I laugh recalling the words “THIS SHIT IS ALL THEATER.” Speaking of my production of one. Maybe it is the essence of my emotions that are only worthy of reflection. Not the actions although I must admit enjoy the dark humor of it all.

I continued to sit in silence, self indulged almost void of self awareness. Between breaths, I vacillated between surrender, understanding, and feeling boggled by the madness of these senseless killings. I can’t release the reminders of 9/11, war, hate and long list of other tragedies dating far back as the early 60’s. The ash zombie faces of 9/11 and the O/49 are the ones I can’t shake from my mind. My rage ignites when I think of this need to constantly defend the use of guns and weapons. Oh my beautiful dutiful right, no thank you, your right is my wrong.

Stuck, I could not moderate the electric tremble of questions dodge balling my mind… Am I in a state of shock? Is this some sort of emotional overload? Am I in mourning? Is this a self pity? Am I exhausted? Over saturated by media, everything in my life/our lives? has the world gone insane? Or have I finally crossed “that” fine line, into emotional decline? Have I finally gone from being a sensitive to desensitized?

I suppose there is a global numbness that is effecting us all to some extent. Perhaps it has spliced my spirit between truth and fear, night and light. My Only Wish no matter what the case may be, as I move the “me” that is part of the universal “we” off to the side. Is LOVE, Love is all I wish for – love, we all posses it, we all desire it, we are all capable of giving and receiving it. There are no fees, no taxes, no requirements. My Only Wish – MAY THERE BE EQUAL AND ABUNDANT LOVE FOR ALL. 

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

Standard
HIV, Uncategorized

POZ-29/30

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

(HEART CHAKRA INFUSION)

From 1981 through 1987, new HIV/AIDS cases and fatalities doubled roughly every year. 1987 saw 40,000 deaths and nearly 50,000 new cases. And AZT hardly swooped in to save the day; in 1991, the CDC announced that one million Americans were infected.

Sunday, April 17, marked the 29th anniversary of the day I received the positive return on my HIV test results. I was only twenty four years of age at the time. just a kid really, although life had already matured me in many ways. Testing positive for the HIV virus honestly was not of any shock or surprise for me. Although my face went through the necessary expressions, almost out of politeness to the reader of these results. This was a planned infection and an expected diagnosis. This is a conversation I will sideboard for a separate writing, dealing primarily with a case of severe undiagnosed bipolar depression along with the many attachments that come with a complicated youth.

In the early days of HIV infection and AIDS. To find out that you had tested positive for the virus carried a great deal of dark weight. For many it still does, back in the day it often was considered a death sentence. During that period of time, at least speaking for the myself I lost lovers pals and icons through the battlefields of AIDS. Ignorance, government funding, religion, families, cultural indifferences, bureaucracy and the disease itself that showed little signs of slowing. All played a part in the war zone of AIDS.

During this time many men walk the streets visually looking like living corpses. Savagely thin, with other signs of fatigue, life fading from their flesh, lifting from their hearts vanishing from their eyes. Others choose to remove themselves from the social seen, understandably out of fear. Looking back I no longer blame them, fear is fear, it was about survival for many, a wake up call for some. On the other hand, some choose to push the envelope a little further into denial. Amping up the party favors or sex to excess. It is safe to say I danced in the pond excess with no regrets.

In reality it only made sense, that I too would eventually appear on the roster of death. Be it swift or slow, my time would come and I was sure to go. It did not seem to happen the way my friends and I thought, I am still here with a gratitude smile I continue to dance.

In the mid to late 1980’s AZT remained the primary toxic noose in use to batter the demons within our own blood cells and bodies. I am not here to argue the politics of the time or discuss conspiracy theories, that is past history, that I can not change. My only comment is do not be afraid to listen to your instincts. My intuition cried out to me the first time I opened my prescribed little white bottle of bi-colored capsules. For me I knew it was poison, the feeling nearly ruptured my nervous system. And I reacted accordingly without hesitation.

Upon arriving home I jiggled that packed plastic bottle of blue and white jimmies into my toilet bowl. I watched as they buoyed upon the shores of my porcelain sea. I paused for a moment with clear conscious, then gave them a confident flush and farewell. At this time in my life I was not so much a political person as I was an intuitive one. Years later, I was informed that this decision to discard the AZT may have been the best decision I could have made for my life. (please note this is not a medical advice column for another)

Now that I have entered my thirtieth year of living with HIV. I ask myself why am I still here? I do not know. I have never been hospitalized due to any HIV related issue. I have never had any “big” AIDS related illness’s and my T-cell’s have only dipped into the 300’s on a few occasions. Any “real” medical issue so far have been the result of situations strictly unrelated.

I am not sure how much of my HIV status defines who I am. I think it is more the fact that I am still here when so many are not. Crossing the threshold of thirty years is a significant moment in my life, I never thought about the importance of my status before. I am deeply moved and thankful, I can only assume I have lasted this long for a reason, like all of us.

I feel I have some “light” work to do. In my younger years, I was busy building a life resume of experiences, many of them thick and weighty. These last few years I have been in an accelerated course of healing with a vast absorption of knowledge. Perhaps I have stuck it out this long with a sheer determination and a soul understanding of my later years of living and my spirit mission.

I believe nothing in this life is a selfish act, we live, learn and share. This is the process of light, we radiate, we vibrate, we heal ourselves and each other. This is all part of making ourselves and each other whole. This is the beauty of all of life’s experiences, HIV or any other disease. All of life’s situations are an opportunity to grow and help another. Be it divorce, hard times, a tough day at school or work, it does not matter what we are experiencing in life everything and every moment has value. We live, love, learn, expand our hearts as we heal the world within and around us.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

Standard
Images, Uncategorized

LOVE & POLITICS

WoodLove0006
LOVE & POLITICS

Why I choose to sit at night to do these writings I am not quite sure. It is the worst of hours for me to put thought to text. My technique is foggy. I tend to spend the next few days manipulating a post with countless spell checks and jigsaw rewrites. I am the type of soul if I have something to say, I must release it from my being before the moment is lost. There is no time for refinement, the thought can not be contained. It is an injustice to my higher consciousness. The fear of loosing the essence of the moment is immense, I have learned from my past that once the moment of a topic I feel hot on my spiritual or emotional heals has been past. And I missed and the the immediate impact of release I also lost the capture of my fevered moment. The feelings that made the moment so important at the moment. Those nudges from above or within that pushed me to speak to begin with.

I am not a professional writer, nor a trained artist in any form, I am hardly educated at all, perhaps that is the beauty of blogging and the time that we live in. We now have a convenient freedom of voice, our ability to share our opinions and visions are accessible with each-other. Not long ago, unless you had a “zine” options for communication mass where limited. Other than public access television, affordable or approachable mass media and venues where limited.

Blogging may be looked upon as a glorified form of journaling, maybe I’m projecting a little zaps from my own mind map. I would like to think on occasion I do have something worth expressing for another to think about to chew on, or have a creative dialogue.

Love and Politics
My story has shifted over time, with focus less on my personal story, more and more on the global tribe. This for me is a reflection of human revolution and what healing from trauma looks like. Primary day elections take place tomorrow here in Illinois, my message remains the same always. VOTE! Vote from a place of LOVE, not, greed, anger, fear or prejudice let your highest self guide you. No I am not telling you who to vote for, your own TRUTH will do that for you.

I will leave this short, I have very strong feelings to express they will be shown in following post. Love is the highest denominator in all matters of resolve, power and transformation for all people, all situations. Thank you for reading-

Standard
Peace, reflective

LOVE-PPF

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

LOVE-Past, Present & Future
There have been times in my life when the emotional weight that I’ve experienced did not make sense. I would find myself, lashing out or struggling free of reason, no matter how diligently I had worked my personal program of understanding. I wrestled with the undertones of situations I knew existed, yet could not put a finger on the lingering stains of uncomfortable.

There are appeared to be no situations, life imbalances, personal unrest, medical or mental issues to cause actions/reactions in my behavior or feelings. Life in general seem to be ok, reasons appear impossible to peg for emotional unrest. Nothing in this lifetime appears with any justification to have a legit connection. In some instances I believe it may be due to a past life footprint, stirring deep inside the soul cavity, an echo of unresolved issues. A traumatic situation perhaps that has never been mended, carried over from a previous life cycle.

My belief is we store these imprints much like we carry the histories of our early childhood memories. Often we don’t remember the good or the bad as we grow older, yet they are always there. In the instance of past life footprints rather than locked safe in the vault of our mind, they are embedded in the vibration of our soul, the core of who we are. The undefined being within, the ignored self of science, the truth that only you or I can understand the truth that only you or I need to understand.

In short, I am moved to suggest, in a moment when agitation arises and there is no connection of logical abundance. While grounded in the “now” of this existence, take
a moment to meditate, love heal and release the “heavy” around these emotions. Before acting out, begin to look within, there may be no answers for present events. Meditate to understand, acknowledge and heal any past life situation. Then wrap the feelings around it in light and release any past events and emotions with love and light. For myself this has been a very helpful tool, one I stumbled upon via guided  instinct.

If willing, answers, resolve and healing will come to you as it has with me. Lingering agitation or that unknown “itch” is our intuition, our inner voice guiding us. I suspect in some cases the story line is rooted in a past space and time, showing some care to these situations can prove as helpful as healing the now. Love is always the message, resolve and forward motion is the goal.

Just a thought from me to you-
Love Yourself & Another Past Present and Futrue

 

Standard
Images, Selfportraits

EXPERIENCE of LIGHT

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

ROCKETS & NESTS 4J *soft/complicated, mixed media

Thursday mornings tend to be my standard errand day, also a day when my mind and eye are most engaged with the world around me. I am 100% in love all things at the same time inspired by everything, it is almost to much to handle and nearly impossible to get anything accomplished. Between photo snaps, note breaks and formal writing stops I am lucky if I hit the market, library or dry cleaners at all.

My mid week enthusiasm may be in part due to my minimal excursions from block number 11 where I reside. Back home in New York, I walked everywhere most days, never to tire always inspired. I breathed a carnival of sensory happiness, often coming home only to spin back out for a deeper emersion. Since my return to the mid-coast of Chicago in autumn of 2013 I have become somewhat of a recluse. Thursdays are my great adventure day, where backyard tree-houses and front yard detail strike a temporary fascination streak, at times it is enough to fire up enough artistic and spiritual fuel to feed my creative need for another week.

Now that I am in my middle years, I am fascinated with the organic curves, knots, and often wicked grace of trees. Cloud formations always impress, dressed and set with back drop skies of shifting seasonal shades mystify. All of mother earths creatures, plant life, water and air retain my interest unlike dismissal of younger years. For the time being my alter of appreciation falls upon suburban lawns rather than the magnificent parks and gritty squares of the island of Manhattan where I belong. A place where structures, graffiti, art, pedestrians, clatter, filth hold me strong.

MORNING THOUGHT:
I had a funny idea one Thursday morning, as I often do. Story board visions ran through my head as I saw myself “ghosting” in the after life. Not “trapped” and suffering as in a Learning Channel ghost hunter hype series. You know, all miserable… moan, moan thud. Just the opposite, very happy, and madly in love with this globe and it’s living occupants. I, dead without regret, refusing to leave this bubbled existence without assistance from an invisible supernatural ejector seat.

From the great unknown my almighty light keepers where summoning me, like a collective of spiritual mothers with a toddler at meal time, gentle and prodding. Coaxing with sensitive yet firm vibrational ease, the messages that pulsed may be impossible to describe here. The general transmission delivered was the usual. “The time has arrived for you to ascend to new dimensions, unimagined in any book, meditation or vision within your understandings, a greater purpose is part of your spiritual evolution now, your earth journey has been completed. The time has come to leave…” None of this was spoken in global tongues, all by sensation, heat and other understanding, many of you know what I am talking about. Stubborn, as I often can be, I am prone to get in my own human way. Naturally I insisted on staying right where I was, in some strange suburban yard up a tree translucent to most determined to haunt on my own terms.

My morning, inspiration hit as my feet stepped and my mind wandered back. I remembered how I have always been fascinated by cultures, sociology, interactions between groups of all people, individual behavior, the human experience. As I passed each home between the hours of 10a.m. and noon I envisioned the expansion of life within these cabinets of brick, wood, and stone. Each home called out with it’s own language. The exterior structure and grounds sang descriptive tales of it’s cultures, families, individuals, lifestyles and critters. I became intrigued by the care and lack of that each dwelling reflected.

That is when it struck me, I want to shadow and haunt when I exit the realm of the living. Not an individual home, rather entire neighborhoods. Fluttering about while watching in silent bliss, hovering while people garden and built those humble tree-houses, perform mundane task like cleaning garages, taking out the trash or repainting shutters on luxury 3 day weekends. Oversee grounds like a mystical landscape architect with a quarter of a mile view, as trees bow in winter and spring forth in mid months of warmth.

As I stood under a great Oak Tree on the corners of Lombard and Madison Streets, with eyes shut, feet planted on cool cement and lungs filled with fresh damp air. I felt with every vessel in my heart that I wanted to experience a little bit of every life. To me this is not haunting at all, this is loving in a different dimension and nothing could be more life affirming. This is loving in the ultimate parental form, the greatest honor, not to die for ones country but to live for ones world.

To experience without the confines of human timelines, health or worry. To watch as each bud burst forth in spring from plant and tree. To bare witness to the birth of new borns, be present with birds eye view as drops of rain cascade down blades of grass during an August sun-shower. Offer comfort during moments of human duress and celebration, to whole heartedly be apart of these experiences, to learn love and wrap one in light. I don’t understand why these feelings struck me so strong or lingered as they do. Perhaps I should nurture them while I am  among the living, maybe that is all this experience of thought has been about. Funny how the mind works as we click keys and write, hammering out the spiritual subconscious through key strokes is another form of the language of light..

Ah! It just hit me wrapped up this page, should you believe as I do, this to some degree is what our Angels and Protectors experience. How wonderfully awesome this is not a story about ghosting at all, it is a story about living.

Love and Light Always
The Empowered Runt

 

 

Standard