My body is not a cage; it's a castle.

this delightful foto by the great Steven Bernstein


G-d doesn't just love your sparkly, shiny, inspiring Soul. He Loves every part, right down to the very shitty bits of your being.


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Part I: Waxing Poetic

The breath/Spirit* of G-d carries Love into my being, but I must unfold all the dinginess and damp; crevices that have yet to see the Sun in a lifetime - and let Love permeate and work all through every part. Thankfulness can help break the wall down and let it all through.

Eventually, somehow, I suppose manure is converted to diamonds... er, heavenly alchemy.

But not by force or manipulation... only by pure, perfect, complete Acceptance. And that is the gift of our Source: G-d. Who began a good work in us, and will see it through...


*(in Hebrew & Greek they're the same word)

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Part II: Ouch, my leg.

I dreamed I cut off all my hair and dyed it a hideous orange color (my first thought was "not again!?!?!" which is certainly strange in itself, but it gets worse, much worse...) I looked down at my legs with the same nonchalance and tried to cut them off too! Good Grief! There is some sort of egregious miscommunication going on between me, myself and I.

The Teshuva (repentance/turning/rethinkingeverythingongodsgreenearth) I've been engaged in lately, while in some ways a return to the True self that dwells with G-d, has been unwisely paired on my part with an intent to detach from all physicality. DAMMIT!! No!! Not again!!!

Red. Red is the color of Courage, and the Root Chakra, and blood, and the life force of all creatures, and forward momentum, and heat, and Love and vigor!

And G-d saw all that he had made, and behold! It was very good! (Genesis 1:31

But still, I do not have courage! Courage to follow the lead of my Father in Heaven and EMBRACE all of me!!! - For the Love of G-d and all that is holy!!!!! Blargh!!!


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Part III: Brave Hearts

I love going to visit the Alamo. I feel the holiness of the place in a tangible way; so many could not have given their lives so bravely for what they believed was right without making a permanent cosmic dent in the area. I look at the unadulturated work of art that was erected in their memory, and I sing a song I wrote in their honour:




Brave hearts, into the sun
hold your flags higher and higher

They can kill our bodies but they can't
kill our souls

They can kill our bodies but they can't
kill our Hope


I wish I had the Courage to stand my ground like they did. Agh! Courage! I'm obsessed with the term. I've always been a bit lily-livered, to tell the truth - a bit waffly, rather yellow 'round the edges and prone to parting with my ideals when I think someone will take umbrage at them. I don't want to spend my life in retreat. I want to stand, and after I have done all I can... to stand!