My car-less story

I cried when I sold my car four or five years ago, even though I hadn’t driven it in a year. I left my former life to become a poet, and I couldn’t afford anything about a car anymore. Not insurance, not gas not maintenance.

The brakes died on a side street and I let I sit there. The Prius batteries went in a month. After over a year, the tires were going flat and the neighbors were getting cranky, even though I went out there once a week and pulled the leaves off of it and wiped it down.

One day it struck me that it was time. I was no longer a car driver. So, I sold it to someone who owns a body shop, someone that I’d known since grammar school. I got $4000 for it, sight unseen. I gave the keys to my 2003 Prius the tow truck driver and walked back home in tears.

In 2002 when I bought it new, it was so novel to own a hybrid that Prius drivers waved at each other driving down the street. I think we thought we were in some do-gooder club.

I realized after seven or eight years of Prius driving that the bicyclists were mentally and emotionally healthier, and racking up karma points, with their fresh air breathing, aerobic workouts selves, not to mention their far less violent carbon footprint. I still cried.

I had no model in my awareness for being a cyclist and getting along without a car. That was then. Now, I know that the universe was calling me.

THE LIST of things I dumped. They made me feel like crap.

You may be the one we’ve been waiting for. You may be here to lift the consciousness of the world , and because of that, you may have lately grown sensitive to psychic vibrations in the world. There is much going on. We are feeling it.  I want you to take care of yourself. The world needs you healthy, happy and teaching the rest us and those around you.

You may be thinking, ‘I am so not this person. I didn’t take an online seminar on spiritual expansion in the 2012 sift. I’m sick of hearing about the shift. I don’t read Deepak Chopra.’ You may be the one anyway
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Last Saturday

Last Saturday, I found myself winding my way  through traffic on my bike near the Embarcadero in San Francisco after a local peace-in-Syria rally. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. However, somewhere along the line, I let go incessant worry as a kind of drug. I now have the wherewithal to look at the world. I don’t like what I found, but at least I am awake.

Somewhere along the line, I found room in myself to trust that I could ride through San Francisco traffic, and believe that I could help change the world, or a least act like I can.

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Heaven, Hell and Civil Disobedience

“If we ruin the earth, there is no place else to go.

The world need not resemble Venus very closely for it to become barren and lifeless. It may not take  much to destabilize the earth’s climate, to convert this heaven, our only home in the cosmos, into a kind of hell.”

– Carl Sagan, Cosmos, PBS series, 1990

Skip to about 50 minutes in to hear about climate change.


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Eastern Mystics, Western Mystics and Magic

This post has been sitting in a word file on my computer desktop for quite some time. I’m going to hit the button and post it. I’ve been hesitant because I am outing myself as someone having had experiences other than ordinary. But I want to. It is so much easier than playing “normal.” If you’ve read my poetry by now, you should know something is up.

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The Moments of my High Resolve by Howard Thurman

Keep fresh before me the moments of my high resolve.

Despite the dullness and barrenness of the days that pass, if I search with due diligence, I can always find a deposit left by some former radiance. But I had forgotten. At the time it was full-orbed, glorious, and resplendent. I was sure that I would never forget. In the moment of its fullness, I was sure that it would illumine my path for all the rest of my journey. I had forgotten how easy it is to forget.

There was no intent to betray what seemed so sure at the time. My response was whole, clean, authentic. But little by little, there crept into my life the dust and grit of the journey. Details, lower-level demands, all kinds of cross currents — nothing momentous, nothing overwhelming, nothing flagrant — just wear and tear. If there had been some direct challenge –a clear-cut issue — I would have fought it to the end, and beyond.

In the quietness of this place, surrounded by the all-pervading Presence of God, my heart whispers: Keep fresh before me the moments of my High Resolve, that in fair weather or in foul, in good times or in tempests, in the days when the darkness and the foe are nameless or familiar, I may not forget that to which my life is committed.

Keep fresh before me the moments of my high resolve.
For The Inward Journey
by Howard Thurman


Howard Thurman