August 28, 1963

Image from here

I was thinking about how Martin Luther King gave his "I have a Dream" speech on August 28, 1963 and now 49 years later the moon is in Aquarius where it was when MLK was born. The Sun is in Leo and the Jack of Hearts rules the day. Whether or not that means anything at all I have no idea. But it somehow struck a chord for me. I too was born under the Aqua moon influence.

We all know what he did and what he stood for and he forever represents the enormous impact that one single individual can have on the benefit of the greater whole (Leo/Aqua axis.) He reached in and pulled on the very vein that keeps humanity connected. We all have dreams and aspirations and we all need and deserve the right and the opportunity to reach the highest potential we strive for. Without that, as humans, we are nothing. The met needs of the individual contribute to the good of our culture, relationships and strengthen our communities.

This is all common knowledge to us now, or maybe it is? I'm not sure. I know I prattle through days where I revert back to being a teenager and think the damn sun revolves around me and I need my mirror shattered into tiny splinters to realize that it really doesn't. (intentional run on sentence for extra drama) There's something calming in the shatter though, it takes the pressure off and doing something for somebody else always takes my mind off my ego's ridiculous troubles.

I've also spent time with people who seem not to give a damn about the whole or humanity in general. They aren't being harmful to others, but they are stuck by the needs of surviving every day life and I have to wonder how that can be? Many of us are doing just fine but still strive to reach material heights while there are so many suffering from true survival needs. What does that even say about us? What is this life even about? If one man can have this kind of impact what could we do if we all lived like that? Or is it really up to the 'sore thumbs' to stick out and take care of business for the rest of us. Because their wounded and their regenerative powers have made them courageous. I don't know.

And now this brief rambling will come to an abrupt end...

5 more minutes

If you wait five more minutes, something amazing might happen. Or it won't. But maybe it will. Like the avenging of a wrong, remembering something forgotten, or the silent scream finally heard.

In those five minutes, the mind is so loud and powerful. If redirected, success it surely will find. But locked inside that hostile raging uterus, the hatred grows wild as a field of milkweed.

Five minutes go by. Maybe five more. What keeps them waiting for these granular momentary fulfillments that are nothing but superfluous. Feeders of a hungry ego. Living towards a tired limelight.

Still, five more minutes. For what?

70 years and something 'weird'

My best friend's Grandpa died the other day at age 90. I got lost on my way to the 'funeral' and had to reach out to her husband to find my way. As we were walking in, I told him I couldn't figure out why a funeral would be at an apartment complex. He said, this is just a memorial, the burial isn't until Monday. He also said, yeah, Em's family is weird, I just try to be supportive.

Picture is from here

This family has always been a model of what is real for me and this memorial was no different. My best friend's mom gave the most beautiful speech about her father's life, equipped with a slide show of pictures to help tell his stories. After which, nearly everyone in the room stood up and told their memorable story about him. My best friend ended the stories by talking about 'their love.' Her Grandma and Grandpa had been together for 70 years and when you look through the pictures, you could see they loved each other through all if it. She went on to say that while she was staying with them as his health deteriorated, she would often find them holding hands in their sleep. As you might imagine, the whole room filled with tears and the 'ceremony' was complete. We ate lunch and it was beautiful.

I was talking with my best friend's mom afterwards and she told me how her father was planning his ceremony before he died and wanted so much to be there. He called it 'his party.' She had tossed the idea around in her head of having it before he passed, but thought that would be just too weird. They did plan a 'party' for him where they ate fried chicken. He had been told it would be a pizza party. He took a bite of the chicken and said it was the best pizza he'd ever eaten. Then he asked if this was his party and they all said yes.

To me this memorial was truly beautiful. There was nothing stuffy or over planned about it. Just the real people in his life remembering him in a way that wasn't overly aggrandized or structured. No fancy church that nobody had ever really gone to. No pastor or priest telling the man's stories. Just the time and space to do what families do; eat, remember, laugh and grieve together.

Not to mention, 70 years of marriage. What's the secret, people had asked. "Humor," is what they had to say. At this point in life I can't imagine 70 years with someone, but I do now understand what kind of commitment that takes and that love can be unending and as enduring as we make it. I want that.

That's all I have to say right now.

Camo

I dreamed I had a camouflage heart. The rest of my insides were soft, fleshy and blood red. An array of wild animals were biting precariously at this flesh and when they were done, the camouflaged heart dropped to the ground. Unscathed and unseen.

Disturbing and comforting? I can't really decide...