Invisible Divinity

curtains

“Even with all my loud, I can feel invisible. When that happens, my first immediate thought is, “OH NO! Everyone hates me. There must be something wrong with me.” Then I remember, I’m my biggest fan and sometimes I’m an audience of one. And when I still feel insecure, I give myself a round of applause like the lone clapper in a movie and for some reason, the angels agree and begin to clap along and I remember I’m loved, worthy, cherished, and beautiful. Coincidentally, just like you.”

It is no secret that I’m bawdy, opinionated, loud, and if I were born in the 1800’s I probably would have worked in, if not run, a house of ill-repute simply because wild people are fun people most of the time. But I also know from personal experience that loud people, funny people, brave people are usually born through the anvil and hammer; Cleansed in the fires of abuse and neglect.

It is my understanding that we are all Divine creations. Every one of us. Every aspect of God is in every face, breath, and life everywhere. When there are abuses suffered a soul that cause so much damage that it strips the Divinity down to the gnawed bone, there are still bones. There is still a skeleton on which to reattach the courage. The femur can meet once again with the pelvis with the first steps towards healing which can be as easy or as complex as the sufferer requires.

Before I’d reached a point of realization, I was still loud and bawdy but I was also incredibly self-destructive. I tried my darndest to erase the gifts I was born to use. I fought against destiny to the point of estranging myself from all of those I loved because I wasn’t loveable. At least, I didn’t act like it nor did I feel worthy of that love. But, as with everything meant to be okay, I woke up and understood after many years.

I’m not saying that I sat bolt upright in bed exclaiming myself healed. I had to finish off the sinew of shame, bite through the tendons of guilt, and shred the reluctance towards abundance. There had to be nothing left, rock bottom some call it, before I could try on new muscles with ancient memories. It’s how I got so comfortable in my God-sized skin, I grew into myself.

Each step on my path to self-discovery has been another step closer to embracing the love and light I was born to share with the world. Your gift may be as a financial whiz, or a teacher of basketball, or as a nature enthusiast, all or none or more. Whatever your gift is, it’s there waiting for you to pursue it full force with the passion it deserves. Don’t be afraid. It will be okay. You’ll be fine. Grow the necessary muscles to rebirth the parts of yourself that you remember as your favorite parts because those, old friend, are righteous. Expect there to be growing pains as the comfort levels stretch to accommodate your full beauty. It can get quite uncomfortable, but with each new muscle firmly established, the power you can offer is astounding. Those places are where your soul calls you. Heed them.

The cool part about being a manifestation of the Divinity, realizing it, rebuilding yourself, is that you get to choose what you keep and what you discard. If you don’t like it, you can reject it, save it for later, or implement it immediately. If it doesn’t work out, then that’s not the right fit. That’s okay. A guest speaker at my church said, roughly, that we’re so afraid of imperfection that we have other people around just in case WE make a mistake. He was right. We’re supposed to be without flaws if we’re Divine creations, right? We’re supposed to be perfect, right? The only thing we’re supposed to be perfect at being is who we were born to be using the gifts we’ve been given. Everything you need is right now.

So what does that have to do with feeling invisible even when I’m loud to the outside world? That’s when I normally forget that, looking back from the mirror, I AM that divinity. I owe myself a round of applause for remembering I’m loved, just like you owe yourself the gentle reminder. When I fall into the doubtfuls and the I-can’t-do-this traps, I remember to bow and try again. You, like me, can achieve what you need to do. Your Divinity, my dear friend, is precisely who I look forward to meeting so that I can join in the applause with you.

When I’m Alone

The Clipper Ship Blue Jacket On Choppy SeasAm I Schrodinger’s cat locked in a coffin that I can’t see?

Am I my own imagination come to life or who others want to see?

Am I an earthquake that shakes the foundation of your beliefs?

Am I the whirlwind that’s met with cautious alacrity?

Am I so enigmatic I am hidden even from myself?

Am I a magician’s assistant that performs with infuriating stealth?

Who am I when there’s nobody around to witness me?

Am I just a wanderer piloting my ship on the popped blue collar sea?

I really dig

I really dig that when I open up my blog reader

I find people-y readers lurking about, liking this or that.

I really dig that when I peer back through the shop window

the readers grunt, groan, lust, hug, love and hate like I do.

I really dig that when I peer through the looking glass

I don’t find my readers slumped sleeping in side-chairs.

I really dig that they poke fingers to keys while:

drinking coffee

popping pills

drinking bourbon

honoring artists

dancing with desires for origami people on paper they will print.

I really dig that the people I don’t know by face

stare back at me as we travel, passing on our reader’s train.

I really dig when we arrive at the same destination of personal truth.

Because that’s when the shit gets real.

The Morning Drive

When the murky morning fog come shifting through the mists
The light devours the shadows in stunted slickery lisps
When the streetlamps and the stoplights paint impressionistic on rainy roads
The ozone stenches the oxygen with lowered transportation modes
When the Doppler whizzes past me through the lowered window of mine
The colors surprised to appear on the vehicles from out of shadows blind
When I slow to prepare a turn at the corner to accelerate to speed
The faithful runners slap the asphalt path with faithful runner’s feet.
And I drive through the rising sun to not see the break of day
Except when the working whistle blows and I’ll reverse my way.

How Many Walk Among Us? BY: Jimbo Slice

How many walk among us

that we don’t even know?

The reclusive Picassos

and downtrodden Van Goghs,

The sequestered savants

and homeless heroes,

hiding in plain sight

while thinkin’ they’re zeroes.

The Robin Williams that never was,

The Vaclev Pavel afraid to write,

The Michaelangelo of the street and

Da Vinci of the Night?

How many walk this planet

Pretending they’re not on it?

Please enrich our world

with brush, with song, and sonnet.

TRIGGER WARNING: The Only Sane Person In The Room

You were the only sane person in the room that day in Earl’s basement in November of that year. You were the one I clung to as my savior because even Janet, his wife and sole witness, rejected the truth before her eyes that Ron committed against my nine year old body.

I escaped through the portal into the apartment that Mork shared with Mindy. I thought of you, Robin Williams, the way you brought that alien to life. You sheltered me from the horrors that happened to me that day. You allowed me a place to recluse myself so that I witnessed what happened to me from a distance. That the pain was unfettered was too much to bear and you, without knowing it, were there with me. You stood by me in rainbow colored be-pinned suspenders and danced around the Colorado apartment. You protected me. Mindy didn’t matter as much as you did, dear Mork. She wasn’t strong enough of a personality to shield me from personal tragedy like you even though she was there too.

I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me that day in the basement unbeknownst to you. If it hadn’t been for the character you brought to life, ironically, I would have emotionally shattered. I only wish that I could have returned the favor to you. I only wish I could have eased the hurt, sadness, and tragedy that haunted your life.

My beloved friend, that I didn’t know in person, I will treasure your gift to the world as if you made it just for me, because that day…that one day, you did.

Truly and Dearly

The day we met, I knew, that from that day forward

The sky would have to embrace a truer blue,

The stars couldn’t sparkle except from your eyes,

The sun would shy from your radiance,

The moon would hide its face in shame,

The oceans would flow from your fingertips

Bending to your whim and desires,

The earth, itself, would long to capture your attention

And when you smiled

There was my Happy Ever After staring back at me

It was then that I realized that I’d move any obstacle

To bask in your heart

In your love

Forever

My Friend Stand-By

When I was younger,

You chose,

For some reason,

To give me support when I was broken

Offered kindness when I acted stupid

Gifted patience when I didn’t understand.

You stood by me when it felt

The whole world was laughing,

Not with me, but at me.

Because of these things

You’ve given so freely to my spirit

I’m taking the time to tell you

How very much you’re loved.

Thank you for being my friend.

The Death Knell

Three times

The death knell called my name

The spear impaled my soul

Rivulets run thick, hot, flame

To fill the vulture’s bowl

Three calls

The crow yelled out my name

Vortex-ed by a black hole

Nemesis’ smile, mother’s bane

Lost virtues to extoll

Three times

The gruesome knell rang out

Drowning the sobs of longing shouts

Purging the bosom blooming full of strife

Judge’s sentence now through life

Three calls

The crow yelled out a warning

While the locusts came down a ’swarming

Shredding loose what once was cherished

Forcing surrender of love to perish