The Weed

The weed took rootAnd flowered,Violet,ProudlyFor all to see. Just one weedAmongst the visualCacophony. Just one moreThat would,Just barely,Hold steady the shape Of the cliff side perch,The sturdy platformFor wayward in-lookersTo feel the breezeAnd heal their troubled minds, Gazing outOver the endless Green sea. Just one weedWhose sweetlyPungent petals Not moreThan a pixelOn the canvasOf the plein air painter Across the bay,Across the way,Documenting Posterity. Just oneWhose roots would stayThe EarthWhen she quakesUnder pressure Of being TakenFor granted. On what ground To rootAnd bloom? For what futureDo we wildThe way? For what mountainAre these intertwined armsAnd mindsThe foundational Pebbles? What loveWillsOur gloriousTransientExchange? For does not pi RequireEvery Uniquely placedDigit? Oh the beautyTo know the harmonyOf beingSeen,Of mattering,For a time,In the choreographyOf...

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Gift of Relationship

The nebulousFinallyBegins to take form. Creeping in,Insistent,Never farFrom the edges Of my awareness,However stronglyI push it away. Insistent in thatIt is IWho amThe gravitational forceOf attractionPulling the truthI repel with aged Trepidation. The amorphous Amoebic bubbleHovering, invisibly vibrantIn its dark mystery,In the shadowsBeyond the haloOf lightLimited by my willingnessTo see and fullyComprehend. For fear or shameThat I will not likeWhat is thereTo be revealed. The resisted giftOf true, intimateRelationshipIs the callTo the edgeWhere I must standIn full presenceOf my faultsAnd culpabilities,Of my victimness,My violationsAnd humiliations. And I see, in subtle new light,To live wholeheartedlyIs to open fully toVulnerability, Which is to standGlowingly naked,Willingly uncertainOf being accepted,Of being Loved. And to chooseTo thawFrom ice to flowLest be shatteredAnd shardedBy any blow. To softenAnd fillAll the spaceThat has kept me Mute and resoluteIn mummified Safety. ForIn dualReality,To relateIs the mateTo selfActuality. On my journeyOf self realizationI have sheltered myselfBy controlling GrowthThrough operatingAlone,Being judgeOf whatI was ready for. She has provenRepeatedlyHer steadfast devotion.She contemplates,Exhausted nowBy the repeated stingOf my thorns. Knowing full wellThe environmentWhich bredThe roughestOf my edges. Blades steeledRazor sharpAt the readyBehindBarbed-linedMoat round my Stoic, CrumblingFoundation. She deservesFor meTo flow, now,To her shore,Not theAdded burdenOf endlessBattle. For only In the frozen StateDoes water Have armsTo holdArmor. My beloved,My celestial lightBrighter than anySun,Can I allowYour warmthNow? Can I take downThe canopyOf my bumbershootFor you? IlluminateAllThat I have shroudedIn darkness. I standStill afraidBut knowingMy resistanceIs in my uncomfortabilityWith my ownInsufficiency. And to be Momentarily,In the grand scheme,UneasyMeans lessTo meThan loving you. Means lessTo meThan loving me. I chooseTo be willinglyQueasyWhile I meltTo tumultuous Peace. For while my seasMay never On the surfaceBe calm,I need not resideIsolatedAt the icy poles,But rather,In the depths,Or the softlyLapping shoresOf the baysAnd sheltered covesOf the...

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Perspective

The day dawns, Sun beaming through the valleyFormed by jagged peaksStanding boldly Against a pale azure sky. The mountains and flatsHeld firmly in placeBy the expanse Of frozen, white crust. The previous day’s raysHaving softened the snowTo a slushiness that holds, Now, hardened again, Patterns of tire treads,The record of human migrations. The icy crunchOf my plod across tundra Impressed by trucks, by paws, and The treads of the soles Of my own yesterday’s shoes,Announces my presence. Were the temperature to maintainOr plummet, perhaps,I would be rememberedFor as long as those Shoe marks last,Stayed in time,The signature of my wanderings,And ponderings, discovered,By future sentience. And, if so, What would these curious glyphsReveal of me, Of us? As I round the bendOf the off-roading road,The light sweeps awayThe shadow, To illuminate,A sea Of endless,Dazzling glitter. A field of miniatureEarthly stars. Still moving, now, upon my way, As if time has shifted slow motion,The surreal icy mosaicSparkles, winks, and almost waves,Shouting, silentlyAnd excitedly,  “Hello,Wayward soul!We see you!We, the grand in scaleAnd the detailed minuteAll around Collaborate To greet you!” “Enjoy this morning’s Visual carnival.  Smile and knowYou are loved.” And I pauseTo breathe dewy warmthInto my cupped, bluing handsTo stay the creeping frostFrom biting my frail fingers. When I feel in my bones, My fragility, Being held, so graciously, At the precipiceOf a secret, sacred frontier,Being held at the mercy Of the holy, reverent elements. To know, deep within,I am being spoken to,In a way beyond words. Don’t go!Remain!Don’t go,I plea! And then I pause My projected despairHolding too tightTo this gifted delight. Perhaps it was IThat turned my eyeFrom stillness, from wonder?Was it I who wandered Or was lead astrayFrom deep listening, seeing, being?Is it I that forgotThe everywhere glistening,To have been reminded Once againThis day? Got it.  Okay. And thank you, Again. What extremitiesAm I willing to brave,What perspectiveCan I further seek,That will exposeThe fire of lifeThat dances, glowsWithin myself, My friends and foesEven in the frigid cold? Even when the traumasOf lifeHave left a personGrieving and alone? In an attacking,  Self-preservationMode? Angry, destroyed,A seeming husk Where onceWas someone Closer toWhole? Please help me find the viewpoint From which I am able to see through Din of any shadowed, surface view,And hold me steadyTo not let slipThis deeper truth,To recall, alwaysAnd at every when,The spark, whether subtle, Faint or brilliant,In...

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Distraction

Staccato chirping Grabs my ear From winter’s hush,And raises my head skyward. A dozen birds, coordinated as one,Arc and undulate through the air,Across a backdrop of blue heavenBehind snow blanketed,Evergreen bearded,Craggy mountains. The transparent weaving of wingsSurfing a barely breathing breezePauses my walking and thinking, momentarily, Such that the fog of my breathCeases to resembleA motorboat’s wake Across placid lake. My exhalations, Stilled now, Float midair,Waft brieflyAnd dissipate.  The daily trudging,Task-orienting drudging,Of getting my headScrewed on straightIs put at bay,Freezing, for a spell,The embedded societal compulsionTo engage with the erratic Hive-minded fray,To conspire to accumulate For the ominous future rainy day. Nature’s avian templateFor the free-wheeling Jazz band, Where each player takes the leadTo compose the pathThrough expectant stillnessCreating unanticipated, delightful,Dynamic harmony. And with each soloistFreestyle interlude complete,The acrobatic aeronaut flies free,Falling off of the imperceptibleMarionette strings,To retake their place,Post flair, in the communal,Winged dancing affair. And on cue,With a brief succession Of decelerating swoops,The group comes toFidgety, chatty, celebratory restOn the barren, knotted branches,The unabashedly proud arms,Of the motherly aspen. A simple smile unfurls,Cannot be held back,On my face. The tension in my jaw,And pursed lips,Falls away, for now,Erased. My eyes scan the frozen plateau,Steaming in the light of the morning sun,Teeming with overgrown brushes of sageStretching to tinge the airwaves,To confirm this majestically intricate displayWas, yes, a treat,A melodious transitionIn a freely gifted visionOf a thrumming, jazzy interplay For mine eyes only. A secret, stolen sequenceOf wondrous time,That could never really Be stolenAt all.   Stolen from whom?  From what?How truly odd, that thought. Perhaps, instead,This shaking to,This beautiful interruption,This divine distractionFrom the march of ephemeral schedule,Is the sustenance neededTo persevere the delusion Of scarcity of moments. This snapping-to-presence,Nature’s orchestration,Able to lovingly unravelThe confused narrativeOf do, do, do,Therein lies value,Written to capture,And capitalize on,Attention. And, reflecting,I consider what I had, So quickly, Taken in. Could it beThat the improvisational Collective choreographyOf passerine constellationsHas signed someSubliminally comprehended meaningTranscending reason? Was I witnessTo archetypal, inter-species, communication Rekindling an ancient, Innate sentience,In me? Remember to breathe,Dear one, They intoned In unfamiliar, now, Yet reminiscent Iconography. Observe, take in,Be remolded and healed,By the patternsAnd soothing repetitionsOf the flight of fancy dance. Join the pulsing flowOf living life. Take your place, Stand, head high,In the bandOf spontaneity. And the flockTakes flight,With a whir,Again. Off they go, bouncing Into the distance, Waving good byeIn a way. And still,No one Left behindNot this, nor any,...

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The Automatic Defensive

The subtle pointed question, Innocent seeming, Tethered with a harpoon Of suggestion, Piercing the imperceptible boundary Of the vulnerable heart. Reminding That the wry smiling, facing face Lives elsewhere, a space Where you, your thoughts, your dreams Are not acceptable As you are. The nuanced question, Which is no question at all, A statement of conditional truth, Coaxing you into delusion Not realizing It is they Who hold, clutching, To safety in conformity. Oh the safe, The walled fortress Around the inanimate Made scarce For coercion Against even the contemplation Of inevitable death. The defenses, The commonly agreed to cliches Carefully timed to explain away, To dismiss, to keep at bay Any inconvenient threat To normalcy. “But what is normal?!?” Aha! You see how easily The uniqueness of the other Is swept clean? The subtle yet immediate erosion Of the exile’s hidden foothold, The hope that today We can grow just one tenuous foothold Into the beginning of a bridge. Maybe? Please consider it? Alas, again, the chasm Will not be breached By the vulnerable opening, The plea to be seen, Deemed bothersome. For that request may require Excessive energy, To step outside the impenetrable walls Of constructed, numb reality. The majority, Seemingly beyond overwhelmed For cultivating empathy To distract from adherence to The axiom of peaceful positivity Which must be held in place With force, if necessary. “Beware, anarchist! Damn you for disturbing Progress toward my abstract goals! How will I ever know and Maintain my belonging With the keepers of the pyramid?” Let the sound of salt water’s bubbling churn, Tidal waves returning from their repetitive climb Up the sandy shore Cleanse my resolve, Bring me to center Amidst the unanticipated squall. The harpooned question, The automatic retort, A suggestion to say, “Don’t you know That ease should be the epitome? Join me in this pain-free place Or be erased. For I will only surround myself With those that aim to grow The population of clones.” Oh well. Oh — Deepening Darkening, Drying, Smooth-stone-walled — Well. Mend the heart’s membrane, Not so imperceptibly pierced, Without a scar This...

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A Tortuous Dance with Calling

Decades, now, Tumbling headlong, Caught in the crashing, Thrashing, tumult Of the main stream. Get a job, they said. Everyone has a job, They said. Was that advice Or, to be more precise, A broken record, skipping, Repeating, spreading A broken, partial message Across the generations? Learn to discern Wise words From traumatic Conditioning. Does the job have meaning? Does it marry With the gifts You carry? Or is it the shovel Issued by the conveyor Of homogeneity, A cog in the World destroying machine, The controlling narrative Of indentured slavery? Dig your own burial chamber! Society, careening along White water frothing, Toward foreseeable, Yet, by the many, Masked, unforeseen, ignored Perilous drop. Why do I answer the call, Which, for me, Seems to be To scribe? I have explored This territory before, Attempting to pull myself Out of the raging ravine, To find stillness, silence Near the shore, Or temporary reprieve In the eddy. You know, sir, What you attempt, On the side, In your free time, Others commit to, Every moment of their lives. Having degrees and PhDs And a deep understanding Of psychology. Whether arrogant Or naive, dear sir, No matter, Swimming your one-armed, Feigning of a stroke Will get you nowhere Close to shore. Nor is there any free oar, Our boat is full Don’t you know? And therein a truth I could not hear, For any endeavor Of meaning, Demands craft That must be developed, Honed, tempered by experience. To carry forth the story Of human kind, To shepherd wisdom, From mind to mind, Across time, Requires great skill And nuance. Present yourself, For this responsibility, This calling, Will unravel you To be made anew. Or do not, That is up to you. So they say, anyway. When I wake today, Will I answer? Or will I delay, Push it off again, Excuse it away, Until there is time? Until I’m not afraid To fail? Will I flex the muscles, Focus in, Hear the pulse, Feel the flow, Prepare myself, Conserve my strength, To make a break? Will I chart a way Toward calmer waters, And act? And once there, In the placid place, Will I be able To hear? At the edge, Near the shore, The fallen trunk...

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Coming of Age (For those of us next in line)

Frustration. Feeling the call And the hesitation. To root And fruit My own tree, Nourished and poisoned By the soil Of pre-story. My life Shaped by the elements, The environment, Of this time. Inheritance of destruction And desecration, Forged into a dime. Striving, desperately, To climb, To belong And shine. To tattoo The communal mind, To be remembered in The propagating infinite eternity. The reverberation Of radar’s probe On the hull Of the imperial ship, Reckoning, Grows louder, Impossible to ignore. Unable, now, To discern silent space Between shrieking Bleeps. And what to make Of the overwhelm? Our elders cowering into Prideful, willing Constructions of selective Reality? Echo’s screaming Too loud to bare. The back-breaking yolk, The mandate of this time, To right the wrongs, The manipulations and crimes, Of his story. Wisdom, The flowering Of Maturation’s offering The humble welcoming Of engagement and growth. An opportunity. Not a given. Not an honor Bestowed at the culmination Of prolonged, inebriated, Institutionalized adolescence. Not a given. Fury, as we will, As I do, For to say those Who came before Did their best, Is not, without fail, True. There are too many, Too, too many, Young, helpless, beaten Violated bodies, And resulting lives Stuck in fight, flight, Freeze responses, Impacted lives, ever Looking over our shoulders. Violations For which there are no, Absolutely no, Just reasons. And, be grateful For the gifts Bestowed. Know that just as decisions Must be made, With desperately desired knowledge Clouded in obscurity, Strapped for time, exhausted. So it was for them. And many times, They simply did What they knew. But no more. Generations of abuse End with us, with me, with you. Know that to hold as valid The discomfort, the unease, The truth of the opposed, Of dichotomy, Is a sign of wisdom Becoming. We can be angry and love, Forgive and begrudge As the societal baton, Is thrust forward upon us, Knowing, we too, will be Held to account, whence Passing it on, ourselves. So very all-too-soon. And in the vast ocean Of bits and bytes, As we sort through The cacophony Of cliched marketing Trites, Searching… And budget days, weeks, Months toward the diversion Of mail’s onslaught, Testing the limits of Recycling’s capacity. Mail’s flooding...

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Fire

My fire. Imperceptible, at times, the duration between Ingestion and expression. Alchemical catalyst, Requisite fuel When applied to crucible Transforms the Soul. My Lioness, Sultry and seductive, Rarely smoldering Unabashedly true. The frontier between One invisibility and another, Or threshold of visibility itself. Harness her, As a wild steed, Nostrils flared. Not to change, Not to tame, But to direct, To navigate Horizon. Strip yourself naked, For no armor will keep you comfortably frozen, Shielded in stasis. No matter Can hide Your true nature As vulnerability Incarnate. Comfort is the illusion Of the caged Soul. Gold, in confined safe, Is lead. Bare, the membrane Of your heart. Bare the membrane Of your heart. Be changed by her Or be gone, Beyond. Dance bright, There is no tempering Light. Be changed by her Or be...

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Exploring the Veil

Four characters joined together into word. Wiley, smirking, poking fun. Live, evil. Live, vile. Live, veil. Live. Are permutations required? To experience evil, the vile, The veil, to live? To know the fullness Of polarity, relativity? What is the veil to you? Is it a curtain? An obscured bleeding through? A knowing of a medium in between? Is it Death? And the Beyond? Are you a Seer? Or do you just Know? And if not clairvoyant, what then? Does your worth reside In comparison To the special ones? Are you less For being blind? Will you lie To obscure some lacking, Feeling behind? A small percent of the living retain a connection to the other side. There are those that see and hear And know, not knowing they know. You know? Some say there is flaw in those Who require communion with Alkaloid solution to bring diffusion Of unknown confusion. Then what to make of that sunny day When a parallel corridor unfolded, when the chirp of the bird gathered volume, unfurling into a golden carpet of sheet music, Calling your eyes to climb its skyward staircase, beckoning to capture your attention, while reality shifted, turned, Slightly. Enough to expose A wholly encompassing window, An immersive multi-dimensional scene? Subtly off, more vivid, electric? A projection door? Deja vu? What was that happening to you? Will you write it off, keep it secret, Dismiss, be remiss? Or invite more? Is the unknown A chill in the bones For you? A standing of your hair Straight into the air? Or a memory of Before, Of home, the truth in lore? An embrace, warming to the core? A shawl to carry, transparent, on your shoulder, Adding support, embracing. That spark Transforming the shape of your lips, from grimace to sly grin? The urge to offer a wink of deep peace to those who walk unaware? A caress, softening you to care? As you sit silently, bathed in the autumn breeze, Loosed hair, brushing your sleeve, the gentle, amber sunlight, casting long, reaching shadows on the meadow amidst a cathedral of trees. Oh, the fallen canopy, the reds, yellows, browns, The beauty in death, decay. Do you hear the crack of the twig, the crunch of the leaves,...

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Wedding Story

In the beginning, before Time A crystal So pure, so flawless So clear, so lawless So no need for law There was nothing to fear. Information everywhere. Some say that the world was pure love They say that Now When Time is recognized. Now, when there are words to speak. And so a playful Crystal, Bored with the Knowledge of All Initiated an experiment And cracked. A Crystal schism. Eons in the future, our story begins In a land far, far away. On a floating rock Near a floating fireball In a deep green forest With Gravity. A man on a tube Lying back, on a floating river. The man did not see the trees, Or the bees, Or the wise trickster billy-goat Pan, For he is a man Locked inside his big Brain-can. The man chuckled as he thought, If no man is an island, When, pray tell, will the tide subside? Across the forest, a princess Who live in an alternate reality. She dreamed of the day when all The shards of the Crystal would reunite. She believed that to realize The Big Reunite She must collect as many of the large, flashy, Multi-faceted, E-color-grade, flawless, Princess-cut crystal pieces as she could, To keep them from getting misplaced. 😉 She, the Pixie, Talked often with Pan And greeted every passer-by With a smile and a sprinkle Of magical pixie dust. She is very old, very wise, In a very young sort of way. Her ears in tune With the hum of the stones And the creak of the bones Of the trees in the breeze. She knows the frequencies Of Mother Earth. So she played that day Like every other day In the meadow by the river With the filtered light. While Pan played his flutes She dreamed of a Prince That was out there floating, Somewhere. And, what do you know, Out into the lovely meadow Floated the man. Thinking his way down the river About chefs and wines And fine dining with views. Of ‘boarding and cycling, Sampling brews. Of producing bands And buying land. Of following bards For weeks on end. And, exhausted of that, of ashrams, With Aurobindo And that Gandhi man. When two worlds collide One world...

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Thaw

The frozen lattice of snowy sheets liquifies. Drops drip, trickles merge Torrents accelerate, careening out of control Tumbling at last, rumbling flow. The lumbering thaw Hibernation breaks. How long has it been this time? Laid bare, were his trunk cut cross Rings of growth would register Not but half lives Of radioactive decay A body ravaged, desolate, over-exposed, Ravenous. Raise your head, Ursa. Tilt your head back Let the tortuous stalactite’s forehead drip That monotonous, repetitive slap Between your brows Become that which begins To quench your thirst. Your hands are not tied by anything But your haunted mind. Will the streams be full Of succulence still? Or has it been too long? Has Man made abundance scarce For more than just you? Oh, the hunger for the nectar of life. To be warmed, sated, stretched, held. Was it a dream? I saw my Soul through the haze Gazing through a maze Of sheets of ice Like warped, cracked glass. She could not see me. Not clearly. Nor I her, I suppose, fully. Screams and pleas gathered armor and barbs As they burst forth upon the world On sensitive beloved ears From the walls of this hidden tomb. Memories dampened and muffled by The accumulation of Time Sculpted, edited, corrupted By the machinations of Man. Will she be waiting in the meadow By the stream? Illuminated by Sunbeam or the Moon? Will she not remember me? Or will these remaining days be Nothing more than living the Stark reminder Of endless missed opportunities? Whiplash from a shaking head Tear ducts run dry And only porridge to quell what Yearns to feast on blood? Strangers passing so near, time and again, Yet passing, still, one another Through this twisted, dark, eternal Night. We will find each other, someday. It cannot be any other way. The yearning will never cease or subside For those such as we. She said her weight was too heavy for me Oh, the tragic irony. As this Winter of lifeless, numb antiquity Comes, at long last, to Spring What seed, if any, shall...

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Witness

She paused and smiled Unaware of watchful eyes. Delighted in her creation, Her communion. A wakeful, active meditation. Relaxed, eyes gleaming, Sun-hat shaded wisps of hair In the breeze. Her countenance cast against The soft blue sky. And I, the fortunate, To be granted the eyes Of the passing, Hovering, Fluttering, Flying...

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The Power of Art

A story I must share. When the Universe smiles. Jason Are you available for a quick question about your painting at the woodmark hotel blue white acrylic? Thank you. Very sincerely, xxxxx —————————————————————— Hi xxxxxx, sure! Today is a bit slammed, but I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have. Let me know if there is a time you’d like to chat in the next couple of days. The piece at the Woodmark is part of an installation through the Ryan James Gallery in Kirkland. It is from my Oz series. Cheers! Jason Sinclair Astorquia —————————————————————— Hi Jason! Thank you. Email will be just fine and that way you can get back to me when you are able. I have adored that painting for quite a while at the woodmark! The woodmark is such a calming place. What I hadn’t done, is read the little information about u! Long story short, I went thru a horrendous abusive relationship that I finally ended up leaving in 2011 – divorced in 2012. My daughter yyyyyyyy (4) and I often would go sit in the library of the Woodmark to feel calm and safe. I know this is all probably too much information but when I read that some of your proceeds go to programs for Domestic Violence Women’s Networks it really hit home. Im very much wanting to purchase this painting. Is it now the galleries so I would work with them? Thank you for your incredible work and all that you do. Very sincerely, xxxxxxxx —————————————————————– Hi xxxxxxxxxx, thanks for sharing. It is good to hear that you got out of the situation. I do support organizations that are important to me and any way I can assist in causes to end abuse, I’ll do what I can. Ryan does represent that piece of mine so you will want to work directly with him with respect to acquiring it. I have cc’d him so that you have his email. Ryan, I hope you can assist Libbi with providing a home for the Oz piece in the Woodmark. Cheers, Jason Sinclair Astorquia —————————————————————– xxxxxxxxxx– Good Afternoon. Thank you for your interest in Jason Sinclair Astorquia’s work Blue/White. Also, thank you for sharing your story,...

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Happy Holy Days

Whatever holiday you choose to celebrate, may this season and your life be filled with peace and joy. May your light shine bright. May your journey be filled with revelation. May you know the gift — the miracle — that you be. May you walk your path undeterred and leave a trail of stardust in your wake. I am grateful to know you.

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New Website: Thank you Drew Sellers!!!

As you may be able to tell (if you’ve been here in cyber-land before), I’ve just released a major overhaul to my website. It has taken me a bit…but the wait is over! Bringing together my artwork, as well as the energy/healing work that I previously had branded under Art of Possibility, I have spent a chunk of time pulling together feedback about challenges and confusion people have had with my previous site. I hope that you find it more accessible and informative about everything that I have going on. And, with this new update, I must once again give a HUGE shout out to my good friend, and amazing photographer, Drew Sellers! He has gifted me his time and incredible photographic skills on so many occasions, without which my online presence would not exist. My artwork tends to be large and glossy and is EXTREMELY difficult to photograph. Without Drew, well…let’s just say that my GRATITUDE is INFINITE. You must check out his amazing sports photography, unique portraiture, and more (and more to come, I’m sure) at his website, DrewSellers.com. And when you are done viewing his phenomenal Portfolio, take a look around here. And let me know what you think!...

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Proof of Life

Have you ever wondered whether you actually exist or not? Have you gone there? Entertained that proof? Have you played the philosophical card, “I think, therefore I am?” Did that ever seem a bit off the mark to you? Like, “Ya’ know, there is something that just doesn’t ring true about that…” Science tells us what we have known, on some level, for centuries — millenia, or longer, even — that we are all interconnected. We are all part of Oneness, the Universe, God, The Infinite, whatever word you choose to point to the Undefinable. What if it is the point of view that we are separate — Objects. You. Me. — that keeps us from the knowing that we are One? Is it possible that this whole idea of “Thinking” is actually part of the trap of the illusion of separation? What if it is not about “I” existing, but actually that We, the Oneness, exists? We Is…We Be…no thought required. “Judge not, lest ye’ be judged.” Infamous words. What if the words were simply intended to say, “any conclusion is limitation on the infinite possibilities available,” and further, ” the Consciousness that we are will reflect your conclusions back on you until you let them go.” In other words, “You are the only one who can judge you out of existence.” So, if you have ever attempted to prove your existence, would you not have had to hold the conclusion to the contrary? In order to prove your existence, you would first, of necessity, have to conclude that you did not exist. So, what if that conclusion is all that is keeping you from the awareness of the totality of the kingdom of you, the Infinite Being? Would you be willing to KNOW that you exist without having to prove it? And if you weren’t so distracted with proving you exist, could you then have a bit more enjoyment in just Being here? Right Now? And anyway, who cares? ‘Cuz it Is what it Is…...

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Earth – The Washing Machine of Consciousness

Planet Earth…weird place, eh? It is so beautiful, so magical. The molten core erupts to create new land. The water falls from the sky, flows down streams, hydrates the plants, returns to ocean, evaporates, and does it all over again. It cleanses us and sustains our bodies. It breaks down the rock to soil to sand. The plants drink the water and consume our gaseous waste, recycling back the air for us to breathe. They produce fruits and vegetables, food for nourishing our bodies. The sun warms us, the wind moves the clouds about, the atmosphere protects us, the moon tugs the tides. The eagles soar, the whales boom forth with haunting song, the jellyfish float along, the stars shine truth from the depths of space/time. And then you have all these people. Running around, doing stuff…and more stuff…and more stuff. Huh? Talking about what the right stuff is and the wrong stuff. The agendas, to-do lists, the plans for tomorrow, the traps from yesterday… The thing is, in Oneness, in Consciousness, all that is is Now. Always. There is nothing else. Jesus said, “Judge not, lest ye’ be judged”. What if it really is just as simple as that? Every thought, every conclusion, every judgement of what is that takes you from Oneness with Now creates separation in you from you, the Oneness that is. So what if Planet Earth is simply the washing machine for the Soul. Where we are all acting out our conclusionary separation until we realize that it has nothing to do with getting it right, it is about becoming aware. Aware of the places where we’ve created separation from ourselves, our friends, our neighbors, our environment, our planet…from the Consciousness, the Oneness, that is. Until which time we are willing to look at the conclusions we have deemed true/right/good, and simply, energetically, let go of all of those points of view. Like, “Enough already!” 🙂 So are you willing to tune in? What have you put yourself in relationship to? Money? Your body? Your business, your family, your lover, your God? When you look at each of your relationships, at the places where things are not quite working for you, do you see any threads of commonality? What...

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Definition = Limitation

Consciousness is everything that exists without judgement. Clear as mud? If we think about judgement as not just being judgmental, but actually as any decision or conclusion or definition about anything, does that provide some clarity? Like, every definition you have ever taken (decision, conclusion, judgement about what is) is a limitation on your knowing, being, perceiving and receiving everything, the totality of all being? So how do you define you? Woman, man, brother, sister, daughter, son, father, mother? Student, teacher, worker, adult, kid? Yadda yadda, eh? What if you are none of those definitions and all of those definitions? What if you are the Infinite Being choosing to be embodied (i.e. playing in reality) as any of those things that you choose? If you were willing to let go of all of what you considered to be unchangeable and ‘as it is’, what infinite possibilities come available? If your point of view, about anything, dictates what is available to show up in your reality, your life, what definitions would you be willing to let go...

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The Unappreciated

Have you come to the conclusion that nobody appreciates you? How long have you believed that? In Access, we talk about how your point of view dictates you reality, not the other way around. Whatever you have concluded is true for you is what will show up for you. Over and over…and over. So, if you have concluded that nobody appreciates you, then what will show up for you? Do you attract people who never seem to appreciate you? And, if you reflect on it a bit, when they do show there appreciation, do you see it or are you somehow compelled to ignore that part and push it away? And, if nobody appreciates you, wouldn’t that include you? Do you appreciate you, just for being you? Consciousness will serve up a dish of ‘nobody appreciates me’ over an over again as a mechanism to get you to acknowledge the limiting conclusion you have in place. What if by letting that conclusion go, you give Consciousness the green light to bring in people who do appreciate you and you can start to see who you’d choose to have in your life. And you then get to know how magical you are for you. When you start to appreciate you, what will begin to show up in your life? Nobody appreciate you? Nobody gets you? Nobody values you? Nobody likes you? What limiting points of view are you holding on to that, by clearing them away, could open up some different possibilities for your life? Thank you Crow Mitchell. I appreciate...

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Immortality

To be immortal. To be remembered. Ahhh… How many of you are seeking immortality? So what does immortality mean to you? Do you wish to do something that will never be forgotten? Do you have a set of criteria by which you live? Do you find yourself having to take a stand on every issue to determine how you will be remembered? Do you find that for every choice you make, you have to determine what the right or best choice will be to be in line with what you have decided you have to be, how you must live your life, in order to be remembered the right way? To leave your mark? To leave your legacy? Have you concluded that you live as long as you are remembered…when you are finally forgotten, that’s it? In order to have lived a life worth living, do you have to have your name on a brick, a plaque, a wall, a book, a song? To have a statue erected in your name? To create a structure so enduring that it will stand the test of time? Have you been a martyr? Do you stand on principles? What if you are one with the infinite being? Would you, in oneness, ever actually die? And if you never actually die, wouldn’t that make you immortal? Without having anything to do? What if by not having to be remembered, by allowing yourself to be anonymous, you could finally be and do what is fun for you? You could finally stop the incessant figuring out where you stood on everything, figuring out what you need to do in order to be remembered, judging whether you are succeeding or failing nonstop 24/7? What if you had nothing to prove? What would it take for you to be anonymous – without name or definition? What would it take for you to truly allow yourself to acknowledge you, the infinite being you truly be? For in oneness, could anything actually ever be forgotten? What if attempting to do something that will be remembered actually locks out all of the aspects of you that cannot be validated by this reality and keeps you from being the unique gift of you? Interesting point of...

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Because & But

The next time you hear either of the words because or but come flying out of your mouth (or even hear the words in your head), would you be willing to pause yourself? Anytime you utter either of those words, what inevitably comes next is a series of justifications for what you just stated as a fact. What if the fact was nothing more than a point of view? Would you be willing to ask yourself if that point of view is actually true for you? If something makes you feel light, it is true for you. If something makes you feel heavy, there is a lie there. Light and expansive = awareness; heavy, constricting, contracting, dense = conclusion. Is the conclusion that you are justifying with all of the becauses and buts even actually yours? (No? Return it to sender!) Words have potency. Every statement of fact solidifies some conclusion, judgement, decision in place. Truth, will you begin to listen to you? Will you begin to question all of those facts you are holding on to? What if letting go of all those limited points of view that aren’t working for you could open up the possibility of something new, more expansive, more you? What if you could change your life by eradicating because and but from your vocabulary? What if it is as simple as saying, “Huh…interesting point of view I have that point of view” with the energy of true wonder over and over until that point of view dissipates for you? Is it time to give up the becausing and but-ing, the linguistic self-degradation, the linguistic...

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Oneness

Oneness is everything. Consciousness is everything, without judgement. Oneness … Consciousness. We are one with everything. Every molecule in the universe is conscious. We are one with the infinite space between the molecules of everything. The molecules are the embodiment of consciousness, consciousness observing itself, experiencing itself in material reality. So what prevents me from perceiving that I am one with it all, you ask? All conclusions, decisions, and judgements you hold as true that are contrary to just being with the oneness. It really is that simple. Right, you say? But seriously, why don’t I perceive everything going on around me always, know everything there is to know? What if you actually do, but you have erected energetic barriers to shut out all of those perceptions, all of that knowing, all that you could receive from the infinitely abundant conscious universe simply because it does not align with how you have decided things should be? Your point of view dictates what can show up in your reality, not the other way around. If you have the belief that you are not the infinite being that you truly be, then that conclusion itself will limit you from ever knowing and being you. You think you are a man or a woman, but what if you are an Infinite Being with a male, or female, body? What if thinking itself — the boundaries of the cognitive mind — is what limits your perception, your knowing, your receiving, and ultimately you being the infinite being you be? Many have attempted to communicate this in many different ways. Power of Now, transcending the mind, etc., etc. Access Consciousness™ is the modality that has worked for me, providing practical tools allow me to become more aware of me. Simple tools that don’t require a guru … only a willingness to look at all those conclusions I’ve have held as true about what life should or shouldn’t be and to eradicate the points of view that don’t really work for me and, as it be, oneness itself. Change is easy. Change is choice. Change is will. Changing you will change...

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Quantum Entanglements

Wikipedia: Quantum entanglement occurs when particles such as photons, electrons, molecules as large as buckyballs, and even small diamonds interact physically and then become separated; the type of interaction is such that each resulting member of a pair is properly described by the same quantum mechanical description (state), which is indefinite in terms of important factors such as position, momentum, spin, polarization, etc. So, what if our conclusions and judgements (i.e. points of view) about everything dictate what we allow to show up in our lives? And what if conclusions and judgements (i.e. polarized points of view) all function based upon quantum entanglement? If we conclude something about how life is (i.e. life is hard, life is suffering, etc.) and then we convince another. And that other convinces another, and another, and another, ad infinitum…what if that is technically how this polarized reality is created from the entangled conclusions. Morphic fields? The Tree of Life? The entangled web of agreed reality? So what happens when you are willing to truly take a look at your conclusions about life that maybe aren’t working so well for you anymore? What if you’d be willing to let go of those conclusions that you are no longer interested in believing in? Could that actually sever an entire branch of the tree? Could that be the trigger to disperse the disabling effect of an entire morphic field? What if you letting go of your limiting conclusions about reality could set the whole universe free? Would that make you a bit more willing? Hmmm… So what do you know about quantum entanglement? What do you know about the technology of polarized reality? What do you know about the Tree of Life? Newly relocated to the Oakland Hills in California. Maybe the Berkeley esoteric physicist philosopher dude is coming out....

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