Let's Remember the Jena Six are Still Just Boys

The definition of racism that I was raised on, "Is the use of one's power against another because of the color of their skin. By definition this can only pertain to white men. Others may have prejudice, but only white men hold all but a few positions of power and influence." I have been aware of the Jena Six as they now have become famously known, since at least the spring time, if not the mid to late winter. The Jena Six are six black young men, teenagers, who got arrested for getting into a fight over three nooses being hung by a couple white students on a tree at their school. Mychal Bell is the only student to be tried and convicted as an adult. He was convicted of aggravated assault as an adult by an all white jury from an all white jury pool. And now is sitting in a prison cell with older men as if his detention is a solution to a problem that has its foundation in repression and division on such a level that nothing else can shine through. Our country is still divided by the color of a person's skin. As a white man, I find it imperative to acknowledge this as justification of our ability to understand all of the problems and divisions that keep us, as a people, separate and unaware of our similarities as a nation. The District Attorney of Jena had come down hard on a group of kids I'm sure he felt vindicated acting against. He stood up in front of the whole school population and said, "I could wipe away your lives with the stroke of a pen." Something I'm sure he didn't want to have go any further, but a threat I feel probably in-sighted a bigger level of anger and resentment than had he kept his comments to resolving the issue for the whole community. Maybe keeping his word was the only motivation he had for following through. Knowing the ensuing aftermath, I don't think his comments were well thought through, or necessary. Having followed Mychal Bell's case for at least a few months has a allowed me to not only get the official story clear, but to hear perspectives from a white retired school board member, a black retired school board member, the mother of one of the Jena Six, and an interview of a couple of the actual Jena Six, including Mychal Bell, right after he had been arraigned, on Democracy Now. I've noticed how this has polarized even conversations in Philadelphia and ignited repressed feelings that raise our consciousness to the Civil Rights movement in the 50's and 60's. Had these kids been able to have a discussion in school about nooses being displayed to everyone, I think the anger expressed would probably have been shown in a way that everyone involved could have understood it much quicker. Putting ourselves in the middle of any situation without allowing both sides to find comfort in the other parties point of view is a major problem to many of the issues that we may resolve someday. The confusion of how this could be happening today I feel is more than valid, especially by people of color, who's families have had to fight so hard for so long for a chance to help allow equality to reign. I stand in solidarity with a way of living that sees it more beneficial breaking down barriers and looking at differences in a way that allows all of us to find their benefits. A world that allows its barriers to be broken down and its people to look each other in the eye to understand equality has no greater strength. Our finding ourselves witnessing a situation like this is a clear sign of not only progress, from the masses of people who already can define this situation from a standpoint of equality, This is also an example that will empower us to when we look at all the people involved as individuals responsible for each of their actions. No one was more at fault than any other. The white students hanging nooses from trees are no less guilty of enraging all of us, than the six black students who allowed their anger to get the better of them. Those white students I believe deserve just as much an opportunity to understand the line they drew in their community. I'm sure they have had no way of understanding the perspective of the black students. I have found hearing another person's perspective is a much better tool than forcing one's opinion on that person. My people of all color's but also, my white family has done everything to allow me to see a different perspective than the one the level of division that came before. I have spent enough time in my city to get an idea of most people's feelings about what it was like back then, and what remains the same today. September 23rd is the 50th anniversary of the forced Integration of Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas. Minnijean Brown-Trickey was one of the first black students to walk through the doors of Central High School. Returning to Central High School recently, she and a couple of filmmakers made a documentary about Little Rock today. In it she found herself in a class room segregated down the middle, white and black. She said,"...we still line up on two sides of color. And if we keep on saying and talking about and doing the same things that we’ve been doing forever, we’re going to stay the same. And I’m really sorry for us." Finding ourselves at the cusp of such a momentous anniversary, I can not begin to think what the future might hold, could those of us, who have grown out of this struggle, would talk with those who don't know or remember the lessons learned 50 years ago. We are one people in this nation. Our diverse backgrounds lay influence to both our differences and gifts that show our ability to overcome hardship and to open up new points of view from those solidified by no other opinion until now. With all of my hopes and prayers, I send this message in the spirit of allowing all of us to put down our anger for a moment to see the other side and to look at what makes us nothing but the same. We may give ourselves the opportunity to see not only that the people we feel polarized against are inferior, but maybe find some similarities that help us as individuals to be better people ourselves. In a time when we are being forced to acknowledge all of the people who feel forgotten and mistreated. Those who have been locked away and completely separated from the benefits of our society are the first to deserve our acknowledgments as human beings and deserving of our support. They have more reason to be show they can evolve and be different than anyone right now wanting to do the same thing. May we all make a better world by healing the wounds we have before looking anywhere or doing anything else to change it.

Remembering September 11th, 2001

In remembering what happened September 11th, 2001, I remember all the people who were around me and all the differences in the world becoming one. I remember I was in Wildwood, NJ at a hotel called the Lollipop with a large group of adults with special needs and being awakened to what I assumed was another breakfast I had slept through. My buddy ran in the room and said, "Rob, Rob they're attacking us, they're bombing us, they just set off a bomb at the World Trade Center!" Groggy eyed and stiff from only a few hours sleep, I sat up as he turned on the TV, and as it came into to focus, I got to see one of the first replays of the first jet slamming into Tower 1. The next thing I noticed was the silence. The silence that all of us can remember experiencing that day all across America. The only word that comes to mind in Eerie. Immediately all the staff began to congregate in my room, or at least all the black staff. I don't know, but I've always been the token white kid most places I congregate. People began to pray, talk, I remember most of us were all holding hands, staying connected. NO ONE took their eyes off the tube, and that was when I realized that every television in the whole Hotel was turned on and replaying this whole experience as it unfolded and we continued taking care of our folks. What a weird way to experience this, I remember thinking. We have all these people whom we're caring for, showers, medicine, shaves all were being administered as the whole nation, was experiencing the most direct undermining of security and our sense of integrity on a collective level. I remember walking along the boardwalk the rest of the week and all of the people, surrounding me, of color experiencing a sense of appreciation beyond any perception they could ever remember. Admittedly, I couldn't fully buy it. Being one to have put forth tremendous effort to break down barriers instilled even by my relatives, I couldn't understand how we couldn't see through the facade. But I understood how much being an American meant for people to put down their shields and swords maintained for so long. Later that winter, I met up with a friend of mine, whom I hadn't spoken to since I was 12. He and I had had a falling out about me being racist just cause I was white. I had never had anyone tell me that before. He and I had grown up right behind each other, our back yards connecting. I had become his friend one day when I was 7 and I had only been in Philadelphia a few months. He had been throwing a ball to his dog in his backyard, and I had had the opportunity to throw it back to him when it had accidentally landed on our side of the fence. We, of course started playing catch, and after exchanging names in our pajamas, we started a friendship that was inseparable for the rest of our childhood. Until one day, when we becoming men, we were confronted with a demon our father's had just barely extended themselves further from. I didn't talk to him again until I was 17. After September 11th, 2001, making his acquaintance again, we found ourselves speaking on the most pervasive issue of current events and he turned to me and said point blank, "That is the only day, I didn't feel like a black man." He went on to tell me how he was able to walk outside and white people actually would smile at him. He said for the rest of the week, he had no idea where was, cause America was not the America it acted before. But how long did this feeling of togetherness actually last? How did we go from tragedy, to acceptance to a regression of not only social interaction but our very foundation of our inherent rights as citizens of the United States of America, as I remember in the call for Security. Might I remind our prying minds that race became citizenship. We immediately closed our borders to anyone but one very evasive family of note. We allowed our legislature to enacted motions and laws that not only profiled people of distinct ethnic description but also undermined the sure basis of our form of Democracy. It wasn't a month after the Patriot Act was signed into law that I was waiting for a train to arrive at 30th St. Station. A group of several Amtrak Police briskly walked up the corridor and began to question a man who looked to me Indian, but definitely of south-east Asian origin. First one officer approach and asked the man for ID, as he went to fumble for his wallet and very graciously cooperate with the officers request. The 4 or 5 other officers that had been just to his left closed in and completely surrounded this man, who had nothing but a briefcase with him. In the space of thirty seconds, they had asked him for his ID, encircled him, began interrogating him from all sides. He showed them his driver's license, his INS identification. He stated where he lived, how he was getting there, where he was coming from, what he did for a living, and even told them as much about his family as he could squeeze in as these officers barely gave him room to breath. He fumbled with his belongings, tried not to make any motions that might raise their already tense reactions. With his voice nervous and quivering, he spoke clearly and directly to each inquiry and no one else in the corridor but me, all the way at the other end, said a damn thing about this absolute disgrace unfolding in front of us. I remember stomping my feet, and my fists on the floor and bench I was sitting on. I stood, and yelled to everyone around me that this man deserved our being his witness. I raised the opinion that maybe at one point most of us had immigrated to America from somewhere else. But not a person turned back to acknowledge this man any further. They had all seen the police surround him, and watched the situation unfold. But all of us being white, no one put down the paper they were reading and showed this man any dignified sign that they were aware of the demeaning nature of what was going on. Having propped myself up against a pillar, it didn't take long for these officers to realize that this man was not the threat they perceived, and as my train was being called, they returned his ID to him and he and I on our perspective stairways made our way to the platform for the trains we were to commute on. I remember this experience much more than I could remember the idea that we all became equal, even for a short period on September 11th, 2001. I remember a state of confusion that everyone seemed to have a real recognition of. But any level of equality I felt was clouded by a decisive and deliberate persuasion of the best way to deal with the sense of loss we all shared together, at the same moment, with the same ideals that were to keep us safe not moments before. It is, on this anniversary of the fall of the Twin towers, of the explosion of Flight 11 and crash into the Pentagon, that we as a nation stand up and recognize that with our vision cleared and ability to seek the truth not diminished, but strengthen by the healing of time. That it is our duty to reaffirm the essence of what it means to live in a democratic society. That we as a people must demand that our representatives work for the betterment of all the people who live within our borders. That they are not to overlook their duty to bare the reigns of our collective responsibility to make a better nation than we had before. In loving memory of those who lost their lives because of the tragedy of September 11th, 2001, and the eternal support our Nation is in dire need, I write this piece to add to all the love and appreciation we hold to the betterment of all that surrounds us. Peace and Blessings.

As another Sunday marks a revolution of the World

The Greatest Things I've Never Been Able to Do... I've had this knack for taking issues to problems that affect the whole world, or ones that just effect us as individuals and finding solutions that could really work, daily. There's just one problem, I never seem to know who to share an idea with to make any of the bigger problems resolve themselves. It seems with most of our efforts saved for making money, most people find it difficult to let go of our common practices and look at an issue for its resolution. I rarely have an idea I don't see the benefit through charity. Imagine blocks of solar panels all across North Philly paying for the energy usage of the poorest families in the city. Imagine all the guns in the city (I live in Philadelphia) being put down. Imagine public transportation being free. Imagine prosecutors facilitating investigations and litigation to the truth, not persecuting more people into a system that can't imagine light ever shining through. Where a resolution allowed all parties a sense of redemption that fulfilled the void now laying dormant to any procedure being practiced. These not being issues easily changed, I'll wait for more people to recognize their significance before I try to go about any serious social change. But the ability is there to allow the things that plague our society to become beneficial, instead. No one seems to find all encompassing issues like these feasible. I mean, when we think about them, our brains start spinning, spiraling, and chattering away about how things are, how they're going to be and how they can't be any different. How sad an outlook. How dis empowered we become when we consistently give our choice over to how things appear right now. I have to say, I have never been able to do anything different, while my mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to make sense of how things are. I will say it is important to be able to recognize, to become conscious that your mind is racing. Once we can recognize something we can move on from it. Let it go and make it into something we do want, that we can enjoy. This is the natural progression our closed door practices miss. One train of thought does not dictate to more than one reality. When you fight with or for just anger, you provide nothing but the chance for more anger. To fight to recognize your anger lends to the ability to overcome your anger and create a mood and/or use other emotions to manifest much greater power than creating rubble. We have been fighting a spiritual war but it's been more like raising a child than a battle for blood. Maybe in battle blood is spilled but those commanding such actions miss the actions of the rest of the world. We, the people, find ourselves automatic experts from perspectives expanding from immediate input. Some of us have been on the killing fields, some of us have dressed their wounds. While well more of us have heard their stories and the stories of others that have taught a bit of the differences and lessons we continue to live and utilize to help others. What else would it be for if it wasn't supposed to end. The greatest opportunity and power an individual has lies in the ability to allow your wounds to heal. The more we use the same skills over and over again, we lose our skills to find other ways of doing things. It's not that greater opportunities are missing. It's that our vision becomes so narrow that we forget to allow more rays of light to enter. We have plenty of soldiers who have come home from war. A majority of who were kept at their post much longer than we agreed or they expected to be there. The betrayal they feel will be mended by the gifts that the rest of us have. Their ability to accept love and appreciation will become effortless in time. Patience is never something constant nor immediately available, especially with such tragic memories so close at hand. I know. I've had to wage war with demons who fought me from the inside and that war is harder than any enemy you have ever faced. I felt so lonely and isolated. When my emotions were all stirred, I had to fight from allowing them to bubble over because I knew the struggle I was experiencing was because of something I had already made sure was over. I spent a year and sixth months fighting One night. No one around me had any idea how to help because there was only one other person who had any idea what it was like for me. Most people never go through something so terrible that they relive it in so many different ways. Maybe it's been the difference between the boundary of what we live in one lifetime and the experience of our soul's reincarnations that gets jaded. The boundaries of which find time as the main stabilizer and healer. All I know is I can feel a lot more love today than I could 4 years ago and five years ago I couldn't think of feeling anything other than what was trapping me, weighing on my shoulders and a sense to keep moving forward. Those were the only two things I could accept, everything else waited so I could get better. Only then did the energy that actually keeps us together show itself to me, again. To all those who have come home from war...Welcome home guys, whether its from the service or a cell, the love is here...don't worry...when you're ready you'll find it right where it's supposed to be. Peace.

While I Sit and Wait

God made me see a bigger picture. God taught me to walk through it. God said, "Just Listen, you'll find your place." God said, "Just do what we taught you." God said to me, "Walk right though it." God said, "Don't let them use you." God said, "Don't let them feed you." "Thanks God, I love you." God said, "Know who are you talking to." The La-Kota say, "Listen first." Rastas say, "One Love." Christians say, "Give thanks." Buddha said, "We are all one." God said, "The whole world is see through." My neighbor said, "Show us your movement." I said, "I want to show people that they can cry again, not out of self pity, but just for the sure act of feeling emotion, again." I cried for the first time in a long while, two days ago and have cried everyday since. Not out of fear, pity or vindication but for the spirit within to mend and cleanse excess baggage. You know my face looked younger, and my third eye began to relax. The creases in it seemed to shed backed up emotions just needing to unwind, as my tears streamed down my face, my face tried to figure out what to do, the scars began to melt away. A healing took place and the hold left more space than it promised before. I hadn't cried like this for four years. Now, about King Solomon's court, I'm not going to allow Aviv to stay in the middle... I'm not going to pull his legs as you rip out his arms. I'm not going to allow you to horde us in what's basically a step into jail for a three year half black child just to give he and I only two hours together a week. He deserves more! And if you won't let me give him what he deserves, I am not the one to tease him with what he could Have! When he and I are allowed the freedom to run and play like we're supposed to, and you can see how we are together. I will have the opportunity to love him the way he deserves. I hold no responsibility for the separation put between Aviv and I, for I cannot even talk to him on the telephone. Repeated conversations with his mother show she is incapable of even imagining a different position from her current one. As for the Court's opinion, I cannot change your prejudice about the roll that a father and mother have to a child. I will say separating any of the parties without some way of finding a cohesive resolution, especially for the child, to exert influence is the greatest example of institutional injustice of all. I look for a system of balance, facilitation, mediation and resource. What I've found is an interaction fully crass, arrogant, self-fulfilling and completely removed from the idea of Justice or compromise. In a real world, we would put our resource into mending wounds, compromising with the integrity the bond of a child deserves and placing all resource at the fingertips of any person with the intent to empower the individuals with the capability of the system. With the reality being that the court has more than enough resource, I find that the only request I can make is for any and everything we might need to fully resolve this or any dispute be used above returning to any order previously made or using your authority to influence this situation into more of a disaster. Families do not need people to influence them to work. Support should be the foundation that would never allow any separation to dictate the stability of the whole structure. I know all of accusations to hold strong moorings.I recognize the polarizing nature and influence making such statements creates. Yet at no point was Aviv allowed the time or space to allow anyone to appreciate his own path to the truth. The steps taken were never to a level that sought the truth. I hold my statements as true, not for any vindication for it was not from my influence that he said what he said, but only that he be allowed to speak the truth he was seeing. I made a promise to a little boy to allow the truth to have an opportunity to show itself. I now place the responsibility on all our shoulders to sift through time to make sure we know what's true and what isn't. Aviv is only three years old. For him to use his cognitive and communicating abilities to speak about being the victim of such things, should humble us to his use of a tremendous amount of his very young resource. "I'm only a little boy," he'll say. To have his trust betrayed shows a level of self-fulfilling negligence that should not be allowed. Children are our future because through us they already see the past. It is not fair nor do they deserve to have to relive anything from lives, but given the opportunity to learn from our experiences. The differences between people has too great an influence on our understanding of the world. Taking our differences and finding strength to learn more about the world will open the door to unlimited resources, far beyond any inequalities we've felt currently. With this out look, cultural differences should be allowed to be expressed without any restriction and sequestered practice should be opened and allowed to be for anyone interested. Its integrity will always hold to its origins and no person may influence the true essence and wisdom of its practice.. Anything that could be used to harm, may also be used to heal. The benefits of diversity has more power than could ever be expressed in just words. Exploring diversity as reality will only open the world to healthier growth, all encompassing prosperity, and the benefit of all living things. Appreciating diversity has the ability to relieve any duty of self deprivation above a duty of responsibility. To allow anyone to empower themselves and others to accomplish any task. Diversity teaches humility, cooperation, growth, strength, commitment and dedication to the relationship we have with all things. I hold this as the true spirit of our country and government. Of its responsibility and its ability. The fact that this is not how it works is just a sign of a very adolescent character of its personality. The fact is there is more than enough resource. We have been biding our time to try to perpetuate something that automatically replenishes itself. I may not be an expert of this, but there are more than enough people who have studied the phenomenon that exuberant resources in the trillions of dollars have been found spilling over with increasing dividends with the ability to accommodate our whole population as well as the world without making a dent. How different things are when they change. The level we will reach without effort will be so drastic that when we're done we will have changed more about ourselves than anything we weren't paying attention to before. We'll have the opportunity to teach responsibility in every aspect that we choose to live. All old separations, all old divisions, any hierarchy will dissipate like fog on a spring day. Dissipating in the warmth of light rising above the horizon. Wounds and injuries will heal with greater circulation and space. Knowing what our resources actually are will give us the opportunity to make sure we never abuse what we have any longer. Anything that would tax resources would have a direct opportunity to stabilize its effect towards something better. Consciousness allows appreciation of all aspects of existence and ability. So all boundaries begin to disappear when responsibility finds its true purpose, the distribution of energy. Using our full capabilities to empower the state of this planet makes for such an efficient way to a level of openness that makes anything possible.

Life Progresses, Lose Transgressions

Nerds explode to grow To observe every inch unfold... We choose a balanced attack of mind to mold You chose gold... I’ll watch the money go. I’m not interested in watching anymore numbers grow... That shit don’t go anywhere close to watching the living. Plants Children Trees Leaves buds on trees... Flowers appear magically... Organically... We feed much better on seed to tree... Than any stock market index could cede. Preach a gospel that does not forget how life truly proceeds and We seek... The finer things in life Mean friends to me... Things that do more than break bread... Nourish the web... Present me to the closest form of the light spectrum... Sun light the key to everything... Plastic wrap and potassium sorbate... Sodium benzoate mastering a depleting cell membrane... Goes directly to our brain and stays.... Never have I been Given the chance to Get the idea that Everyone of one Race is Equal!

Morning, Afternoon and Evening...

Before a Solution, there's You

I started this blog for a couple of reasons. I don't hear opinions in the media that are different from press releases put out by specific interests. I wanted a way to express myself, and to put my own ideas out there, to help diversify the mix. And I wanted a way for those close to me, both friends and family, to have a neutral space to see where I'm coming from on issues both great and small, personal and world wide. I grew up with this idea of freedom of speech, and that sharing ideas is the only way things get worked out. In the last few years, I've tried to find ways to express myself in ways that people around me could digest what I was saying and appreciate the attention I gave them. I haven't found any medium better than music and plain writing things down for people to get into my frame of mind. It seems we always come from where we are, where we come from to get what somebodies talking about, and seldom do we let go of our ties else where to appreciate a new point of view. I felt like starting a blog was a lot like going out on a limb. I was sure that the bow was sturdy enough, but finding myself farther and farther away from the trunk, certain insecurities lent themselves to sticking around. I, like most people, don't always feel confident about what other's are going to think about what I want to say. I can't even tell if anyone's really looking at my blog, except for one cute little comment on a piece I felt was a mere step in the right direction. But, even with the things that I can't do anything about, I have taken each discrepancy as a challenge to do something better. Each post, a step to something bigger and an opportunity to learn something about myself, and to share with the rest of the world. I am doing my best to not hold my opinions as the highest ground, but would not like to admit any expertize about anything but my own experience. I feel that our world deserves more appreciation of the individual, rather than just plastic forms molded and strengthened by people working hard and giving it their all. We, as individuals hold the power to allow anything to fail or succeed. I would like to show my appreciation for the 6 billion or so individuals on this planet that give our species a guide towards hope and a reality that includes every living thing's relationship to the whole. I say this because no one around me really understands that I do not talk just for myself, but would like to share my own movements to show the scale of the movement of the whole world. We, I beleive, live in a world based on love and trust. We come out of the womb, and we are able to love. We come out of the womb and are embraced by the pull of gravity, and as we grow, we learn to trust that that keeps us from floating away. Our personalities and experiences will always dictate the full spectrum of how we feel, but absolutes always have the opportunity to manifest into something positive for all parties. Having such a strong connection to the loving energy of this planet, I am able to appreciate that which will never be on TV. And those things that perpetuate themselves just to be on top, I believe will always find themselves in the same place till they start thinking of the whole. We as people are destined to learn from our mistakes, period. We will not move forward till we take what's holding us back and put it in a place where it can't do any harm and can only grow into something that's better. So, after reading this, take a moment and find something that you can appreciate. Look at it, feel it, say to yourself, I appreciate this. I do not want anything I do not appreciate to interfere with my appreciating this right now. Don't focus on anything else. If something flashes through you that you do not appreciate, let it go. Love what you can love, and that which you really don't like, tell yourself that it deserves the same space you give yourself, but you don't have to stick around for it at all. Things that we do not like, if ignored, usually turn into something completely different. In ways, that normally compliment the things you do enjoy. Have a great day, let's start enjoying the things we like and ignoring the things we don't. Cause eventually, you'll turn to me and realize we've been talking about the same thing and you never knew it. Then we will find solutions.

Living in Bliss, not what I miss

I don't eat meat very much anymore. In the last year, I've probably eaten meat only a hand full of times. Beef once, they knew the cow, organically raised, grass fed. Sushi a couple of times, and random other fish dishes through out the year. Someone warned me about what might happen, if I cut meat out of my diet. I might actually feel better, about myself, about life in general, about the world around me. You know, they were right. I cut meat, sugar, butter, all other dairy, and processed food almost a whole year ago. I think August 23, or 24th was the last time I had fast food. I came home, found a book called Healing with Whole Foods, and it changed my whole perspective about eating. From human garbage disposer. Eating almost anything, and ending a meal, only after every speck of food was eaten, to eating nothing but whole grains, and leafy green vegetables with maybe a little olive or flax seed oil. Don't you know, I haven't yearned for meat since. I grew up on an american diet. Meat, then carbs, whether white rice, or pasta, and a vegetable. Four major food groups, and maybe a discussion about a food pyramid, but only to include dessert and milk. Growing up, I drank a gallon of milk, every day and a half to two days. My parents buying four gallons of milk a week, my mom adding a bit to her tea in the morning, and my dad, if he had cereal. That left 14 cups of a cows teat for me. Invariably, and this was most of high school, I would also eat the majority of a pound of pasta for dinner. Pork chops, hamburgers, chicken (baked, fried, diced, cubed, sauteed, stir-fried, it didn't matter) were all staples in my digestive workings. Oh, and invariably, I was eating close to a pint of ice cream for dessert, every evening. Wonder what my arteries were handling, cause my belly never got any bigger. Guess it didn't need to. ;-) My parents went on weight watchers when I was 8. So everything in our house was low calorie, low fat. We always had fresh vegetables, unless my sister or I was cooking dinner, and even then, we were usually making a salad, to help sift all that meat through our intestines. But I had only flirted with being vegetarian for a week (I was 15), and that quickly became just red meat, and then fattened up to anything as our family went on a camping trip and the bar-b-q made up for lost appetites before. Well, sometimes things just work out as easily as they appear. I started reading this book, and it all made sense. The gist was, basically, if you put in the building blocks your body needs, you won't be hungry later. Standard american diet of meat potatoes and veggies was based on a study done years ago that mapped out 10 amino acids needed, oh wait, for the diet of a rat. Mama's breast milk has eight and those eight can be found in any variety of organic whole grains. So I slept on it, and pretty much the next day, went from cookies, chicken, white pasta and bread, to like I said organic whole grains, and leafy green vegetables. My goal, to keep it up for 6 months, flush my system. Remove excess mucus, which builds up in our intestines especially because of dairy and meat, and see how I feel. I went for a week, without any fat. Man, that turned into a big headache, and I couldn't figure out why. Then I realized I wasn't putting but a tablespoon worth of olive oil in my rice for dinner (organic brown rice, has an essential complex of magnesium and other nutrients necessary for calcium absorption). So, I went to my local grocer and bought a bottle of flax seed oil. It was like 15 dollars. But instead of meat, it was worth the price. I ate a cup and a half of oats every morning, with a dollop of raw honey (raw honey has enzymes and nutrients that are anti-viral, anti-biotic, full of life giving essentials that pasteurized honey lacks). For lunch, I was eating a cup or two of brown rice with steamed basil, mung bean sprouts, spinach, broccoli and baby carrots. And for dinner something very similar. Don't you know, three weeks into this, I felt better like a million bucks. I mean, better than I ever have for as long as I can remember. At the time, I was going through some really unnecessary things. My son's mom had left him with me because of a fight between the two of us. All of my friends and family were out of town on vacation, so I couldn't find anytime to work. And on top of it all, the woman I was in love with, had managed to slip in and break my heart. Man, it was scene for disaster, and I knew I was at a fork in the road. I had three things to help me get better and I had three things to make me go under. Only the path of less resistance did I make the right decision. I remember thinking, the only way for me to really get into this and do it, was to allow myself to eat anything I wanted. If I feel like eating meat, I can allow myself, if I want a cookie, I'll have a cookie. I know that what I'm reading will allow me to be able to eat exactly what my body needs, but a discipline is only accomplished with tolerance and flexibility. At least, that was my out, if I wanted it. And for 6 months straight, from the beginning of September to the end of March, I only had meat once, and that was a shrimp in an egg roll, I was not expecting to have meat in it. One tiny shrimp in 6 months was a big change from meat every night at dinner, like any good American house hold. Not having any dairy in my diet, meant I didn't have to battle any colds this past winter. Having only grains and veggies in my belly meant that my meals could be absorbed into my blood stream as soon as I ate them. Meats can take up to three days in our intestines, before the nutrients can be fully absorbed, and even then they say we have an excess of 15 pounds of undigested protein in our belly at any given time. EWWWW!!! What the fuck is the meat packing industry thinking? "That and I want it preserved so when we cut out of you, we can sell it again?" Thank you, but let's leave the feed lots alone and start raising more pastures, so our cows can walk and munch like they were made to. Basically I went from the pharmaceutical industry of food, that most of us have no idea about, to the I'm raised off of the nutrients of mother earth, who supplies my immune system with everything my body needs to be healthy, side of things. Which, ironically, is the only way we're liable to survive as a species and a planet. The food industry like all other industries is run to produce. The theory being the more product, the more money it makes. Our bodies thrive differently. The higher quality, more nutritious the food, the smaller we chew it up, the better we absorb and the more we use the food to rebuild and maintain our whole being. The meat industry has a policy of "as long as we can cram 'em in, we'll cram 'em in, till the doors don't shut" form of raising livestock, which supplements millions to pharmaceutical companies to keep down epidemics of disease and nutrition deficiency, and has been in-breeding the same genetic lines for so long that their DNA is making people's cells deficient and leaking dimensia into the populace. In olden times of living off the land, meat was a luxury. One might kill one cow for the year, smoke it, and store it for special occasions. Thank you Christmas ham. Grains supplement a majority of the protein we needed to survive and trace nutrients in the whole grains allowed our bones to stay strong and our immune system to ward off infections more readily. As the population of the country and then the world began to increase and become more condensed in cities. The ability to mass produce and then store larger quantities of food became a necessity. The advent of processing foods for storage entered the food industry and white flour and canned goods replaced the open market and farm to table way things were. Huge epidemics of nutrient strapped illness spread across the country and instead of famine because of lack of food, famine because of low quality food was introduced to the populace. Systematically, causes were singled out of individual crises, but production was always dominant over quality. Instead of making more whole wheat. We enriched white flour with niacin and iron, not realizing that even more trace nutrients, including magnesium were being removed from our diet. Instead of finding protein in gluten, our bodies were breaking the flour down into simple sugars, which would give us a boost of energy, but were stripping our bodies of nutrients we would rather utilize for absorption. Our digestive systems over the last 100 years have been over taxed and abused to such an extent that no matter how much food we eat, we can't get enough nutrients to supplement our bodies rejuvenation. We eat more calcium, maybe even more than ten times as much as people from the earth farm cultures, and have epidemic rates of osteoporosis, tooth decay, and bone loss. It's not the calcium that's the issue, it's little things like magnesium which open up the calcium ducts in our cells and bones, so that we may absorb the calcium in our bones. We have more free-floating calcium running through our bodies, but without the magnesium, the calcium is solidifying in our kidneys and gull bladders and skin, not in our bones. White sugar, having all the potassium, and other trace nutrients removed, does nothing but bond itself to our brain cells, affecting and slowing synapse firing and keeping our brains from working on a level that is necessary for healthy living. Yet, is so addictive that that rush we get is more enjoyable than keeping our train of thought, or just thinking clearly. This is why the whole food movement and organic farming, sustainable living movements are so important. It may seem to cost more at first, depending on where you get your produce. It may seem like it's not as pretty as our Genetically Modified, Sterile counter parts. But what it lacks in appearance, the more you taste organic, whole foods, the more you will begin to appreciate the taste and strength of organic living. Hope you have a great day and enjoy a fresh organic peach, their delicious this time of year. Peace.

DHS - Department of Human Suffering....Love is what we need...

The Department of Human Services has gone through a lot of bad press regarding how they have dealt with certain cases where kids were horribly abused or killed after social workers had already investigated allegations. For all the good hard working social workers, I feel sorry for the extra energy your management has put to force feeding you to do a better job. For the two social workers I've met. There's still a lot we need to talk about. My son made me feel he was being abused last September, and after making sure what he was showing me was more than just something he wanted to play a game with, I called the Philadelphia Department of Human Services for assistance. As professionals, I figured they'd be the best to help me figure out whether what Aviv was showing me was true and what wasn't. A case worker came to my house within a couple of days. When she did, she looked over my house, asked me what I'd noticed and why I called and took one look at my son. Without doing anything else, she said, oh he's too young, he's not gonna say anything that a judge would listen to. "I don't even know why I'm here, I usually work with 12 and 14 year olds. If he were talking [meaning if he could talk well enough to testify in court] then maybe we could do something for him right now. Sorry, she said, but I'm gonna have to say there was nothing founded in my report unless you can get him to talk to me right now." And you'll just have to wait till he's at least 5 or 6 for him to talk. I couldn't believe it, my son tells me something, his mom won't even acknowledge that I'm calling her for good reason. At the time she had left him with me for like 5 weeks. I had been religious about sticking to our agreed custody arrangement. The laws in Pennsylvania give dad's very little leeway as it is, so making sure we get equal time with him, means I get my time with him, period. Well, my dad lived through the '50's and me, I get to let you know what hasn't changed since. Now, I'm a good guy to understand that agencies like DHS must get a lot of false calls, parents trying to pit the system against the other to gain leverage and full custody. I've never had to do either, my goal has always been my son's well being. Having no contact with him when he was at his mom's house has been something I've struggled with ever since we started living a part. It was not something I was dealing with just at the moment, I'm talking about now. So, I took this social worker's read as, you went to her house first, before you even saw my son. OK. You talked with her first. Cool. She's Black, me I'm White. That I'll never miss. She, for all the heads out there, has been learning about the moors. I feel that. She likes to abuse this gate, though and build a re pore that makes me nothing but some confederate flag yielding, white sheet wearing KKK white dude. Can I say how easily this insights riots in the Hood? Oh, yeah I grew up in this city. My whole life, and not till I met her did I have to prove my word was born. Holla. In any case. I think I got sideswiped for having a mixed child and a baby's mama that said I was just being racist and was trying to get over on her. Whew, imagine if this shit were flipped. My mama would have whooped my ass, had I abused such accomplishment that even my ancestors today supported and fought for. I can't even imagine finding everlasting salvation in such a hustle that doesn't force your ass to listen to your son. All I would ask anyone to do is switch the focus to the kids. Every child is worth the energy it would take to get to know them. Any kid going through something demeaning or abusive is not going to talk to just anyone about it, ever. So for 8 months all I had was he's too young to tell us anything, sorry, but you're out of luck mister. Like how dare I even try. Hmmph, listen, get shady with me, watch me find a way to find someone who will listen. This Spring, my son started talking a lot, this time giving examples and showing sure signs of neglect and changes in behavior that were too drastic not to show clear lines from something traumatic. Literally, He spent 8 weeks with me, this time. Spent a whole week screaming at the top of his lungs. He has never done that, always 24 hrs of screaming and adjustment, but he always pulls through and a little boy will emerge the next morning from the cocoon he's confined to in his other environment. After 5 days straight of him acting out the whole day, screaming. Waking up after going to sleep, screaming he's not going back. He'd never had bad dreams like this, ever. I called his mom and told her we needed to get him evaluated. I don't think she's ever considered that his behavior could be connected to something he's experienced. Listen, had I been able to work this out with just his mom, it would have been resolved years ago. What can I say, it took me a year and a half, and now 2 years to try to get something out with anyone else. Aviv, daddy's not giving up on you. We're just fighting with weapons older than any metal smith could smelt, when we break this tunnel through, it'll be because you and I were working just as hard from either side. Your effort will show your worth greater than any trauma would subside just from me shooting, no holds bar. Instead I'm picking up my pen and shooting knowledge out to as many people as read this entry. For all the heads trying to figure out how I'm not contributing. Listen, being there for my son is all I have. I shoot someone, his mom will never have a chance to move past what she went through as a child and Aviv will think that's how shit changes and for real, they ain't putting people in jail to change things. Shit stays the same, the more people like you and me get put in shackles. So, A case worker comes to my house because my kids been screaming for three weeks straight. He won't tell me anything about what's bothering him, can't, says he'll get hurt. So, I spend each day with him, giving him the space to work out of his screaming bouts. I mean I can't hit him for acting out, cause it's obviously something that has been in him for a while. So, we start climbing a latter our of the pit, using each tantrum as a rung and the closer to light we get, the closer to not feeling responsible for the emotional baggage he's carrying, he gets. I'm a firm believer in a person figuring out their own resolutions to life's problems and watching my son go through something so serious with no support to climb out of it, but from his daddy. I fully support my kid in his development and was raised not spoil anyone. This guy comes into my house, hears my observations, hears what little Aviv has told me and looks around my place. He tells me that he's been to Aviv's mom's house. Where everything seems to have a meaning. OK, good, she's got alters to guide her spiritual growth. Oh, and the old man you say is her boyfriend. They refer to him as the Prophet, or Prophet Ali. This is straight from the case workers mouth. That wasn't enough to include in his report though. He can't evaluate anyone's mental health except if the child is bleeding and having been 3 weeks since I made the report. We've been doing work ourselves, just to function day to day. The way I actually got a case worker to come to my house is a great sequence of events. I wasn't planning on returning Aviv until some sort of support was instituted for him to feel comfortable enough to be at his mom's house, alone. Like I said, I'm not allowed to have contact with him when he's there, and He is still telling Me he's not going back. I've never kept him, even when he used to cry about it, but this was for weeks, not as we're putting our coats on to go to his mom's house. Well, so I write an email to some close friends about my situation and how I could be held in contempt for going against an existing order. For Aviv, I was ready to be held till this was all brought to a head. I got one response. From an old teacher of mine. He's now a psycho-therapist and specializes in child abuse. Don't you know, he spent 5 minutes with me and Aviv, and for the next 2 and half hours worked with Aviv. Two and a half hours. Play therapy. Aviv got to work through all his emotions. When we walked into the door, the furthest Aviv could express what he was going through was by punishing himself. Hitting himself on his hands. across his own face, telling himself to shut up, stuff like that. When he left, he was able to become his abuser and act out on other things (like a puppet) how he was being hit. As we started to rap up, Aviv and my psycho-therapist friend went outside to run into his next door neighbor's kids. Turns out his next door neighbor is a Director at DHS and after hearing Aviv's story from both me and our therapist friend, she gave me the chain of command and who I should talk to when. By Monday, this was Wednesday I think, we had a DHS worker at my house. By the end of the week, when the hearing was, I was seeing a kid work through his own issues, right in front of me, not only mirroring other people's behavior, but acting out and saying what they would say to him, while he was being hit. And by the end of the next week, the week DHS came to interview him he was figuring out how to work things out by himself. Telling me he loved me everyday, whenever he felt it. That was something he'd only done out of the blue. Man, so when this case worker came in, I knew all he was seeing was a happy kid. He told me how unless there was blood coming out of the kid, he couldn't do anything unless Aviv would state directly to him how he was being abused. Aviv took one look at this dude and said I don't know you. I couldn't blame him. Later, he said, "Daddy, I'm just a little kid, I can't talk to people." This is probably the hardest thing I'll ever hear anyone say. Aviv, if I could give you the podium as you want, I would man. Well, after an hour of sitting in my house and about 5 minutes trying to talk with Aviv, asking him things like do you want to go with me to your mom's house? (no, I'm with Daddy.) Or, is your mom using Crack. Man, that one fucked me up. He don't know you man. This DHS worker got his things together and as he was walking out of my door, said under his breath, "Man, I'm not getting shot over something like this." Shot, who said anything about being shot. Listen, I told him, as he's walking down my stairs, if you think they're intimidating you, what about this little kid. Only person he has looking out for him is me. What a bitch, yo. Afraid he's gonna get shot, so he's not gonna take that as reason to make sure my son's safe with me? You're a bitch. I kept Aviv another two weeks, and at the following court hearing, after I highlighted every nasty and abusive act my son had testified to me in confidence. OUr Psycho-therapist friend was not allowed to testify because both parents had not approved of his talking with Aviv. The judge turned to my lawyer and stated that I had no reason to even say anything. That Aviv's mom was granted full custody. I have two hours supervised visits every Sunday at Family Court at 18th and Vine and Aviv, no need for any follow up. Fuck him, how dare I keep a child from his mother. Riding the bus home after this, I went to a mosque instead of going right home. It was either find myself in a room full of men for a higher cause, or I'm shooting somebody. I got home and was accosted by a call from my parent's minister. My parents and him were coming over to make sure I was level enough to talk to. Aviv was not to be involved in any discussion about him having to be sent back to his mom's. I was to be escorted the rest of the way, so as not to go against another court order. Man, don't you know I only had 45 minutes to tell him he was going back into a war zone no one would step up and support him in for two years. This shit has got to stop ma. Pick your kid up and make love your judgment, not how much your ego will gain from people thinking you're getting over on some white dude. I ain't that dude and you ain't that good at what you do. So, don't slip. That kid will remember everything when he's old enough to emancipate himself, and like you did with your mom, he will with his. Peace and Blessings. SAVE AVIV, everyone, no more kids need to be lost in the system. And thanks ahead of time for all your support. My son really deserves a better life than what he's been getting, and I deserve to be able to give it to him.

Shiatsu - Allowing the World to Heal Itself.

Shiatsu, a form of body work that applies pressure to certain points along the body. Unlike most healing techniques, Shiatsu's claim is not to heal the receiver. Rather Shiatsu allows to receiver to heal themselves. The most the practitioner does is follow a persons reaction to pressure and how they relax. In essence, communicates with the receivers body, adjusting, just to help the flow reach as far as the receiver is willing to allow, releasing as the receiver dictates. One of the first things we learn is making two hands become one. Probably the most comprehensive concept in beginning shiatsu, it allows the practitioner to remove themselves from anything but directing pressure, makes it easier to come from the Hara (one's center) and feel what's going on in the receiver's body. Basically, if starts the conversation of what needs to happen for a practitioner to help the receiver to release tension and feel themselves relax. In shiatsu, we call this the ortho-sympathetic body and the para-sympathetic body. Ortho-sympathetic, or just sympathetic, body controls our fight or flight reactions. Not much of a choice, but this body is full of movement, putting energy into action. The para-sympathetic body is our feeling body. It's where our emotions thrive, where we express, how we work things out. This is the body that helps us heal, engages our immune system and makes sure we have can see more of the picture than what's making us react. Having a balanced energy body means having a balanced ortho and para sympathetic bodies. Allowing the body to remain open to communicate, yet strong enough as not to be pushed around. Putting my hands on someone is a great honor. To be able to go into a state that allows both practitioner and receiver to relax and go into a meditation that is able to open up the body in ways that benefit major organs, relieve tension, open up joints, and sustain the receiver to feeling better than before the treatment is the most wonderful way to interact with another person, I have ever experienced. Vulnerabilities are kept to a minimum. Receiver and Practitioners are fully clothed. There's no need to be self conscious about any of the insecurities that can arise in sexual encounters. No awkward touches on one's body, in that nobodies gonna be fondling anyone's breasts or privates. And best of all, anyone can do it. All you need is a finger or thumb, or something to direct pressure and an understanding of the meridian system in the body. Meridians follow mostly the circulatory system in the body, and connect with a major organ, at least energetically. Allowing a meridian to open, allows that particular organ to open. Any meridian opening is beneficial to the whole body. Amazingly, of twelve meridians, they're all very easy and start or end with a finger or toe. to even just pull on each finger or toe nail can help open up stagnant chi and allow the body to be in a more relaxed state. In the first weekend of shiatsu, besides learning the full body outline, which is the basis of any shiatsu treatment. We first learned the concept of making room. Now, we're always working to make more room in our outside lives for chores, responsibilities and people. What if we spent just as much energy making enough room on the inside as well? We could straighten our posture. Assimilate nutrients better. Rebuild tissue, organs and bones. unwind tendons, get rid of old aches and pain. The closer we get to relaxation the better our nervous system works to help our body participate in keeping ourselves healthy. Allowing the energy in our body to move the way it's supposed to, is not the only to keep ourselves healthy. Eating the right kinds of foods is also the most important way to stay healthy. Shiatsu has the ability to open up avenues to new ways of living that benefit everyone. In days that are saturated by TV with violence, guns, drugs, and stressful situations, we all could really benefit from being reminded of how special we really are. And what other amazing things our bodies can do, to benefit ourselves and benefit the whole rest of the world. Happy Shiatsu.

A Start for the Sons Around Me

Philly man, the place I grew up. A beautiful city with every kind of person you could ever want to meet. Philly, the city of brotherly love, the city that loves you back, the city of cheesesteaks, cheese whizz, and tastykakes is slowly killing off its sons. Brings tears to my eyes when I think of how many men, boys just men, have left with burning holes in their flesh. For what? Whew, how does anyone narrow that one down. I'm say guns. There's a great song by a folk singer named Holly Near where she says all the things that could've made things so bad, and even after all the politicians and birth defects and school funding cuts are out on the table, she says the thing she'd get rid are the Guns. Guns. Standardized by a man named Colt to kill the masses, I mean supply at a higher rate of production. Guns, the first industry with interchangeable parts. For what? Nothing, unless you're hunting bears with your .357. Your gun can't keep you warm late at night. Can't make sure you've got all the nutrients you need to be healthy. Won't stop someone from hitting you with their car. Don't do anything, really. But they have a nostalgia. From World War movies, Westerns, to action packed endeavors worth hundreds of millions we've gotten this device implanted into our brain, right with sex and sugar. Like that would feel better to make love with, or would cool me off more than the popsicle in my freezer. Anyway brothers, I'm not interested in letting anything replace me in the sack. I can't say I'm anything but a spectator looking in. I'm no expert, and if I were to get into it, call me a medic, or a sage cause the oldheads know a different way and I've been listening to them my whole life, so why aren't you? You think hiding under your pillow after someone goes down is gonna make you more money in the long run? If I were to speak with the dead, I'm sure they'd want people to know they weren't ready to die. That now that they've passed they see how different it could be, had they not been in like that. That they can see the other way, and it's so much more wonderful than anything they had imagined before they had the opportunity to feel it. Then we've got the whole campaign of putting down the guns. Man, that's easy for me, I don't have one. But what if you do carry a gun? I'm not gonna tell you have to put it down, if it makes you feel (opportune word,here) feel safer. Listen, though. It's time we change the code. If another innocent loses their life, if you think people are gonna look up to you, that you'll be more of a man for being able to kill someone, after reading this, I hold no responsibility for what you go through. You have a lot to learn and to learn you're gonna have to make some time for someone to help you. Guns, man, the code at the highest continues to relieve stress on the masses from genocide and annihilation. In the world of hustling and raising funds, the goal should be making money, not buying death. You raise a network, count all the money you could be make. The larger the network, the more money everyone can make. You do it from your block and shoot out the block next to you, y'all got a war and cops and nobody making as much money as they should. Man, fuck that bullshit. Make that money, make sure you ain't got no cops on you and you'll go on forever. It's dumb letting someone destroy your empire before it even gets started. Especially if you have to look back on from jail and realize that now your work is for all the young brothers who can win this War, For Real. We've got look outs, I don't bother with the whole networking, but change the code from just me to all people. You make more money the more people you can include in what you do, you loose everything when you cut death into the network. I know the idea of power is strong on this force. But, I don't need to touch on that, when power just dictates that I listen to what you need. I have enough power to do that. I'm all ears. When you leave, make sure to close the door and don't forget what we've talked about, I won't.

Little Ol' White Me

I'm must look a sight, walking as much as I do. This tall white dude, that looks like Jesus, who listens to nothing but Jazz, hip-hop and reggae, and who was known for arguing with people about who the best MC's are. Haven't really been around a lot of true hip-hop and jazz cats for a little while, so nobody's been really shooting the shit with me about music, for a while. All my friends out in LA are making the music, not studying it anymore, so we talk about mostly beats we've been working on or drama in our lives. Having had this time to myself, and in different context, I think I came across something from my child hood. Being a white dude. I'm an awkward fuck, live off Coltrane, but look like I should be frolicking through a meadow on a hair flare, or something. I mean it, used to play Trane, Miles, Clifford Brown, Monk, man Monk. If there's not a better person to learn about living, it's The Thelonious Monk. Anyway, what am i doing listening to the masters? They're black. Right. Where could I possibly live and get a mix like that? Well, people have been more than generous to share with me things they've found helpful, especially, when it comes to music. Something about music, the corridor of communication opens in a way, especially in jazz, that makes it so easy to know what's going on. At the same, gives the listener the choice of how they listen, what they listen to, and what they like about it. So, I am always mindful of the things that I have learned from the greats. Identified with as much as I can as a human. And most definately, have learned more about the 50's, 60's and 70's from jazz than anything else. Even politics and politics would have been my other profession, but music always had a draw, that I knew if I just put my mind to it, I would figure out how to play an instrument. Listening to jazz allows me to sing in ways that only yodelers in sweden have used across large mountains. Any luck of Flamenco in my mom's line, adjust my vocal chords in ways I never could connect to, had I not started singing in the shower when I was 23. Steaming it up and just saying ohm. For like an hour, helped me to calm my mind enough to make dinner, and function on a level that I could take care of myself pay my bils, etc. Putting one finger on one fret, on one string on my guitar, and playing twinkle twinkle little star on every string, just one string at a time, was how I learned to play by ear. I practiced scales and chords I had learned when I had taken guitar lessons, and now I've been playing for 5 years, and am ready to start reading music, again. Not that I don't like playing things my own way, that's how I'll figure out how to play standards that everyone knows, from Fake Books that are out there. Could be a traveling act, if I had enough tunes under my belt. But as of now, I'm working with alot of chord changes from cd's I have and sitting down to the piano and mapping out chords as I work out melodies of songs I like. So how do I walk down the street with a gate to my step, and mouth on my face? How do I talk like what I hear from the street, but still never look like I belong? Cause this is where I'm from and the place I grew up valued the interaction of people living together. Not splitting up everything up on stuff that divides us. Cause if it's not being worked on by all of us, or rather, everyone's input isn't being put in, it's not working itself out. And it needs some help. I know. Having grown up in a neighborhood more black and middle class than my family could make white, I learned a lot. Call a lot of people family that would have only happened any other way from the layers of destruction that have clouded our perception of the vision we all hold for our country. This is the first generation where we can look at each other from the same economic and social status. If wasn't for the black resident looking after my mother while she was pregnant. She might have died from complications. No one had looked at her blood pressure to see it was real high for her (she having lower blood pressure, as is), only at what level it was below the line drawn for too much. He had looked at her chart and saw that it was well above where she was normally, and suggested the Physician in charge take it into account. I was born at 2lbs 14oz and my mom survived the pregnancy. I haven't had much interaction in other countries about race in america. But I do know that america is the only place that race matters as much as it does. The whole rest of the world, whether they are starving searching for food to feed themselves, to looking for enough resources to develop and function, most people look at the rich for needing to be involved to make things work. Here we just blame everyone for everything and are surprised to hear things do work out. Now I love this part, it takes me back to when I was 14 and a group of young people I knew, we were all in high school, majority of us from public schools. We would have weekly discussions about what it meant to empower youth. One of my most memorable discussions we've ever had was about Race. We made four squares. One for white men, European descent, etc. One for white women. One for women of color and one for men of color. Just like that. Dialougue has only one rule, only white men can be racist. Man, I knew what they were saying, but I didn't want anything to do with this. Are you kidding me, let's get these white sheet wearing mother fuckers. Fuck em, I need a world that included everybody, not some bullshit ass stage to make sure my tobacco fields get picked for subserviant pay and benefits. Fuck that shit. Wait. I can be racist, too? And only because I'm more likely to make it as a corporate president than the dude with the same idea in North Philly? Well, then how did I find myself wanting to meet that dude, more than the corner office? Ok, let's talk about this. Could you help me not be racist, like how am I racist, if I'm not trying to be? So, we all said something that they enjoyed about being the race they are. I mean all of our families come from somewhere. Well, did I mention I was having trouble grasping something? How about my Dad's family was Bretheren? People, I don't know about today, but used to be very strict about worldly things (women wore bonets, men wore beards and had very short hair, farmed and thought that everyone was created equal. I've always liked that part. Meant my dad could explain to me things in a way that I could ask others about it to. I mean a white dude. Used to mess my friend's up, "you're white, but you act black." I get "you talk black" occasionally these days, but I'm still a white man. All I know is where I'm from. Who lives around me, and what they appreciate about life. I love knowing what people appreciate. Having the opportunity to hear someone say something positive, makes me see them open to something better than anything that could keep us down. It means a lot more to me to hear stuff like that, than watching the news could ever tell me about what's really wrong in the world. Makes me sad to think that I enjoy all of these things and you enjoy all of the things you enjoy, but when I turn on the news it's all negative stuff about people getting killed, or fires in peoples homes. Then I get sports and the weather. If I was on the news. I'd want more people on talking about stuff they like and less about stuff that we really need to fix. I mean if someone gets shot, and it's on the news, I only have 15 seconds to say a prayer to my TV, instead of making dinner and taking it to someone's house. The Cops have it weird, they get there after the fact and try to figure out what happens. Whatever they work out, well, there's a lot more to be worked out in regards to making sure it never happens again. I mean people get so low when someone around them dies. EVERYONE IS AFFECTED. But I guess that's why I say a prayer everytime I get caught watching a news story. I have to admit, I'm a little deeper about it. I mean, if it were me, I would be furious if someone with a TV camera was in my face as my whole spirit tries to grasped the loss to my heart. Thanks guys, I think maybe we could make that news slot something else from now on? Atleast give it a week or so, so the familes can get through being so numb and hurt. I'm sure the people who need to be around or need to know already do. But, I'm not gonna leave it at not being beneficial for the whole community but it's a bit of a superficial level, emotionally. Amazing we have the internet, maybe I'll do some news clips of my own. I wonder if anyone would like my blog enough to let me write for their paper. This is me writing, and this is how I'd love to make my living. My goals are filled with doing my part to help people find space for something better. This is why I started this blog, this is why I started playing music, it's why I've started studying shiatsu. This is why I try to give all my friends a new idea everytime I talk with them. There's something I think we can find brand-new in every moment. There's always a way to make the world better. As we live to learn, all we do is change our perspective and we can learn something new. Man, I've been jacked, robbed, I mean, and felt so self-conscious after that. But I made myself go outside, just so I could make sure I knew how to do it. I didn't want to stay inside just cause I was scared. If I get scared, I usually find something familiar and follow it. I never learned anything else from all the human and civil rights movements that I grew up with. Which brings me to my thesis for this essay. It's weird being a white man, who's stuck between a world that looks at me as the quickest one to a 100 g's in some corporate job and one that learned about the inequities being spread across the world, from people doing something about them. I mean, can you imagine getting paid to make the world better? That's what I want to do. Know anyone hiring? I have experience and I have problems.

Day Out of Time

"Let your Spirit guide you," was the only thing I could hear from the dream I just woke up from. What the fuck? I mean I've had this idea of just getting up and walking to see where I get. Maybe I could get to the Rainbow Gathering in Allegheny National Forest. I figure it's about 350-400 miles from this corner to that one. Wonder how many miles I can walk in a day? Spirit guide me... Spirit, "Son, you have many things going on your life. Your son, stranded, do you really want to leave him." "Spirit, you've showed me what I'm getting out of this paper pushing interaction I've been dealing with in regards to the relationship of custody I have with his mother. Her vendetta for my flesh has dictated my resolve not play into it. If I stay, I will have to be present for another bout that's only conclusion is another series of hearings. Having no way of a new decision being made at this proceeding. My responsibilities are finding no common ground with obligation." Spirit, "Being his father, you are the guardian of his spirit. Do not think that he is not with you, just because you aren't together in flesh." "Yes, Spirit, lead my feet forward and remind me that I'm whole and have movement. I just want to see Aviv soon." Spirit, "Take only what you need then. And walk. As long as you listen, you will never loose me." Knowing how familiar the surrounding area is to me, I decide to keep my trajectory the sunset. Spirit, "Follow the train tracks. And do not worry, everything is working itself out." And that's what I did. Took my backpack, a sweatshirt, two books, a frisbee and a gallon of water. Step into my worn,and unbound sneakers and stepped out into the Sunshine. Having just done some Chi Gong, my body felt up to the task. Weird how we really do take care of parts of ourselves in different ways. Listening to our spirit, invoking trust in that light. Making sure our mind is clear and connected to our body, and that our body has enough nourishment to maintain it's balance. Dipping from Forest to Railroad tracks, I find myself crossing very little of the city in broad daylight. Funny how we always run the grid, by our favorite streets and passageways. Where, on feet I can make sure I go the way I want and nothing else need find interference in my passing through. Finding my new thoroughfare I step behind the wings of a hawk and pads of a fox and glide West. What is my motivation for my hike? Love and the ability of everyone to reflect the energy we need to keep ourselves together. "I Love you," and "Freedom" managed me through every town and suburb. Freedom, man, if it weren't so important for me to be this right now, I think I'd be outside Aviv's Mom's house banging down the door on a lecture higher than the senses. I can't find reason to keep Aviv in the middle of fight that has no end. So again I put my foot forward and ignite a little more passion for being able to just live. If I go through with this court stuff, we keep fighting and nothing changes. If I walk away today, maybe I can come back later and things will have a chance to change. So, I walk another step forward and Sing. "Spirit, tell Aviv that he needs to let go of someone saving him, that in order for that to happen, he must first say he wants to be saved...fuck it. Spirit I need salvation too. As I move forward, no matter how far I go, no matter where I go, please protect me from any energy that does not mean to let me continue forward. Allow Aviv to move freely, and to hear his daddy's true intentions in his heart, and to be able to embrace the spirit of Freedom wholly and infinitely past his current transgressions." With another step I move forward. Sneaks off, bare feet on cool grass I walk through each town along the path to Perkiomen. Watching bikers whizz by, to bidding them "Peace" as they head back pass me, on their way to where they started. With another step I move forward. I have nothing to bother me today. Just the wind traveling past, sunshine on my face and birds singing in trees cascade along the path. I reminisce about how wonderful the whole world is. How wonderful it is to see that just from putting one foot in front of the other. I walked by old stomping grounds, old girlfriends, old mills, and construction. I walked pass me at 14, 15, 16 and 17. Hair in a ponytail, my shadow falling just in front of me. Like a Sun dial I pass it on the left. Moving forward, I find exaltaion in the confidence that I haven't left it behind and excitement in the anticipation that it will meet further along in my journey as a friend would stand against a light poll to wait for my arrival. I haven't forgotten where I am from, nor where I am living, but continuing forward towards my goal, a future I will to see. I move forward one step at a time. As the sun sets, I sit, drink some more water and eat a dinner of apples, peaches, and a pancake. Making sure to show as much appreciation and abmiration for my body as I can muster, having walked for over 6 hours. Having no reason to stay, I move on. Maybe I'll find a bed to sleep in tonight. Having no company and very little interaction with the people passing by, besides saying hi. I needed something to entertain me. So I sang, I whistled and then a bird told me to talk. Realizing I was thinking way too much in my head. I began to whisper about how I had met Hillaria. See, Hillaria is Aviv's mom, and one of the most disuaded people I have ever met. Having a lot of issues that stem from her childhood, it was damn near impossible to penetrate through all the excitement generated by our meeting and her becoming pregnant. But I always knew that she only knew a certain level of depth to interact with people. She couldn't get attached because no one had ever allowed her to. Having grown up in an environment, in a town, that was anything but diverse and very rich. Her dynamics never gave her the opportunity to feel comfortable enough to show her true self around anyone. People were all around that really cared about her. And in the first 9 months of our meeting, maybe even 6 months, I watched her cut every one of them out of her life. This included old teachers, neighbors that had known her her whole life. When her house had burned down. The whole town chipped in and bought her Mom a brand new one. When Hillaria had had enough of the violence that her mom put her through. One of my best friend's, from high school, parents took her in and actually helped her emancipate herself from her mother. When I met Hillaria, I had actually just made it through a year of depression and anguish stemming from post-traumatic stress I had been dealing with from having been robbed at gun point inside a friend's house. I was in rare form. Couldn't keep a positive thought in my head and I was sure I had been possessed by the devil, who wanted to turn me into some KKK wielding white man. I mean, telepathically, the word Nigger had literally been transplanted into my brain. Couldn't figure it out, couldn't get rid of it, but I knew I knew how to work it. I'll talk about that some other time. In any case, it was no time for me to be having a baby. Well, I was riding my bike up from South Philly on Broad St., where this young but ok looking dark skinned woman turned as she walked down that side walk and tried to flag me over with her finger. I remember thinking to myself, "Do I really want to stop and talk with this girl?" Knowing my head was in no way in a place to be with a girl and the fact that I hadn't been with anyone but a week earlier for over a year, I was fully entrenched just to keep moving. But, why kick a gift horse in its mouth? So I turned my bike around and hopped on the curb and said hello. She was real bubbly I remember. We introduced ourselves and I asked her where she was from. She replied, Haddonfield. And I'm like...Haddonfield...I have two incredible friends that lived in Haddonfield. Do you know my friend Ted? And she goes, "Ted? Ted's my brother!" "Huh," I said, "no he's not." And after a few emphatic affirmations, it came out about how his parent's had adopted her when she 16, the year he had gone off to school. So I had never known her. I had fleeting memories later about a girl who had been doing dishes with his mom a couple times in their kitchen, but never spent enough time with her to really remember her. And then, there was this party I had at a house a bunch of friend's and I had just moved into. I had just been in a car accident, where the air bag took the vision from my right eye for 72 hours. Just having my vision start to return, I moved my belongings in the night of the party. Having little energy and being heavily medicated, I spent the majority of the evening in my room, where we started an impromptu drum circle. I remember there was this annoying 15 year old girl who really wanted me to teach her how to play drums. Having taken a perkocet or two, all I wanted to do was hit the drum, I was barely functionable to carry on the conversation to say no. So I told her to just hit the drum. Getting bored with such precise instructions, she soon left me to play my drum all to myself. Well, the day she passed me on the street, after we talked, we parted ways for the afternoon and decided to meet up after 9 back down near Broad and Tasker. When we did, I had just bullshitted away a couple of hours up at Rittenhouse Square. Having lost contact with most of my friend's the previous year, I didn't have the stomach to really talk to just anyone. But alas, I did make it down to S. Broad for my rendez-vous. We met up, hugged, walked to a park right around the corner and talked. She seemed cool, mad flighty but I was down to make out or fuck, if she was down. The connection with Ted, really messed me up. Having been so tight with him during high school, I couldn't imagine having missed such a big event like his parent's adopting a black girl. I mean I knew they always meant well, but I was like damn. She must be top knotch. She was spiritual enough for the things I was into then, and she knew a bit about the reptiles which floored me, cause I hadn't really had much chance to talk with more than a few people about them. Definitely not a girl. So I invited her to my friend's spot and we hung out for a bit by ourselves and watched TV with him. I kissed her, by asking her if it was ok. Taken aback, never having been asked before, she almost refused. But her thick african, carribean lips were too hard to resist. I mean I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wanted to taste em. We kissed in the doorway between their dining and living rooms. But, then my friend came back from going out. So we couldn't really make out after that. To get home, I had to walk. From Broad and Dickinson to 46th and Baltimore Ave. We're talking like 50 blocks and it was sprinkling. A fine mist across the land that didn't do anything but make us damp. Maybe it rained but I think we had an umbrella between us. After an hour and 45 minute walk, we arrived at my house, pealed off and got naked. I had a dark skinned woman, in my one room apartment, all by myself and no curtains. Having turned on a light, I allowed her to know how the whole block was going to see her titties. She let me know, if they haven't seen a black woman naked before, they have now. We got into bed and made love. And I mean, I got it in. She was all young and thought she was the shit. Well, after 4 hours with me, worn out, sweaty and exhausted, she told me to stop, and we fell asleep. I always thought that was the night Aviv was conceived. After that, whew, it was all down hill. She, I remember, had this thing about toys and tools. But where as I learned about inanimate objects being titled such, she talked about all the men she had been with in this context. I couldn't believe it, but who am I to judge. I was just happy to get some nooky and she liked it enough, she was immediately addicted and ended up at my house for 5 days. I didn't see her for like 3 weeks after that. She just reappeared and spent another 5 days at my house. All we did was have sex and smoke herbs. I love having sex. So did she. After this stay she went down to Atlanta to visit her mom and I didn't see her for like another 3 weeks. This time, no different than before. Except, she ended up waking up at 6 o'clock in the morning three days in a row throwing up in my toilet. First day, I thought she was just ill from a beer she had had, so I went back to sleep. Second day, I asked her what was wrong and she just said she didn't feel well. Third day, I made sure to get the truth from her. And she eventually gave it to me, she was pregnant. She was pretty sure it was mine. But not a hundred percent and that she was just going to move back to Atlanta in with her mom. Over the previous few weeks that she had told me about what it was like growing up like that. When she told me that she was pregnant and moving back to her mom's, she immediately picked up her stuff, so not to cry in front of me, and ran out my door, down the steps and all the way to the end of the block to wait for the trolley to pick her up. Tears streaming down her face as I ran to catch up with her. She told me to just leave her alone. I persisted for a moment, but let her be when I saw she was clamming up. Sitting a couple feet from her a step or two away, always below, I'm tall as it is. She let me talk to her again and I asked how she could leave the Philly area and go to a place she didn't know anyone, to live with her mom, whom she had divorced and who had beaten her her whole life? Well, she didn't want to, and she understood the necessity of people that care about her around her, especially because she was gonna have a baby. So, she never got on the trolley. She came back inside with me and we decided to put it all to rest for the day. It took me about 3 weeks to figure out how to tell my parents. When I did, I let them know everything. That this was someone I didn't really know, wasn't sure the baby was mine, like most men I find, and that we weren't sure why we were keeping him. The pregnancy was pretty dramatic. She started bleeding 5 weeks into it. We had to go into the hospital, the emergency room, and make sure she was ok. After about 7 or 8 pricks to try and run an IV, a tech, a dude who looked like he had just been mopping up another room, stepped up to her gurney and in one try, slipped it in and ran her blood work through. That was amazing. Three and a half months later, we ended back in the hospital because she had been barreled over in pain for a few days and it wouldn't go away. This was the first time I saw Aviv. They gave Hillaria an ultrasound and here was this little tiny baby, just 5 weeks old, in utero, waving to us from inside. It turned out that what was hurting her was a fibroid (a fibrous cyst) that had grown to something like 6 x 7 cm on a ultra sound screen. They said that most women, who get these, find they disappear after a while. But the next three weeks were excruciating even for me. She was riling in pain, could barely eat and didn't move from our bed for nothing but going to the bathroom. She was the biggest trooper I had ever met. Took each blow of Aviv moving around with plum and gusto, or moxy which was what she deserves. She is almost one of the strongest women in my life, if it weren't for her tired brain. But like most of us, her mind keeps her from really getting to the depth of things. I remember her running a fever lying in bed, writhing in pain and with the threat of bed rest for the last two months of the pregnancy on heavy narcotics, I remember her turning and telling me that wasn't gonna happen. I don't think they were giving her anything, and the over the counter stuff was limited to a very small dosage. That night, I put my hands on her belly like I always did, and Aviv and I began to heal her. I just remember telling him to love his mommy like it was the only thing in the world and pouring white light in from the outside, we managed to let her feeling body take over and she relaxed. I don't know what happened, or how, but soon after that, we never heard from that Fibroid again. The pregnancy went real smooth after that. We only had one other emergency room visit, I'll tell that in a bit though. The only real issues we were having were with living situations. She ended up moving into my apartment building a month after telling she was pregnant. There was a girl that moved in right before I had met Hillaria and her roommate left right like a month later. So, Hillaria took her room. She had been living with this dude she called a tool who didn't add up to much, I was always curious about who he really was. While we were moving all of her stuff out of his house, I was taking a suitcase down from her room, I remember her stepping into this dudes face and calling him a loser. I knew where she was going from then on. And it wasn't gonna be my house. Well, she moved in and within the first 10 days, a friend of mine came to stay at my house. He was homeless, him and his dog, Yona. Yona was a beautiful white dog, with german sheppard shaped ears. She was like a little wolf, but all white. Having them staying in my 20 x 26 ft. studio, made for tight quarters, living. So I was upstairs more than in my place for obvious reasons. Yona kept my friend in my place longer than I needed but she is forever loving and supporting everyone around her, especially my friend. I think he was in my house for like 4 weeks. By the end, Hillaria was getting kicked out of her apartment and my friend couldn't get his head together and I needed my space back. Hillaria actually was the one to tell him to leave and then hooked him up with a place to stay where he helped a guy with special needs for his board, like a block up from where we were living. Just having my place back, I was not interested in letting anyone else moving in. We, Aviv's mom and I, had to have a serious conversation. "You need to find your own place, get yourself together and make sure you have the support you need, to have this baby," I said to her. There was no way I could see her five, I mean five of the biggest suitcases I ever seen, fitting into my apartment. We didn't really know each other, and had very little in common. I mean, she didn't even know if the baby was mine. How is she just gonna roll up in my crib? But she did. No second thought, I was easy. She had not a clue who I was, nor what I expected. She just moved right on in. Set up shop, put her two duffel bags under her bed and filled the whole apartment with her clothes. At this point, I hadn't had a television, a phone, nothing. All I had was my stereo and a bookshelf full of books. When she moved in, we got a T.V., phone and eventually satellite dish. All things I didn't feel we needed. But very convienent for a woman having a baby and for a loving couple that spent most of their time at home. Well, if I haven't said it before, I'll say it here. Living in a small apartment, neither person really moving or working. It was really hard getting along with each other. I don't suggest having a baby the way we did. But I think we made the best of a really awkward experience, as far as the pregnancy went. Five months we spent in that apartment and it was hard. I mean she not being the most pleasant person to live with, we got into it alot. But, being that close to someone really made it hard not to love her. Being a white boy, dating a black girl builds a huge dynamic when it comes to the hood. Having no reason to find the bond stronger than history, I ran into all kinds of resistance, backward glances, insults. Being with a woman who had never lived in the city before and didn't really identify with being black, made it impossible to have much of a conversation about race. When we rolled into her home town of Haddonfield and were walking from the train station to her "parents'" house. This pick-up truck turned the corner and the kid inside yelled out the window, "What do you think you're doing with that Nigger?" Man, when I felt that, I was livid, I was beside myself, to hear that and to just watch them drive away, uh uh, I was gonna make sure that they knew how that made me feel. Hillaria told me, no, don't worry about that sort of thing...she was used to it. Well, I'd like to reiterate, uh uh, that's never been acceptable to me. Well, it wasn't till later, that I realized the flip of that. That it was acceptable to her to call people, ya means, because, there's a difference. Well, about November, maybe it was December, I remember waking up to a fight with Hillaria. She was straddled across me yelling in my face for some reason. Being well aware of her pregnancy (duh) and general mental instability, I moved to get off the bed and make more room, when she grabbed a hold of my arms, fearing I was coming at her. We were getting hype, but it wasn't getting physical, I remember, we were just on the bed and there wasn't enough space. So she grabs a hold of my wrists, and like a good Lifeguard, I uncrissed my arms, and broke free. When I pulled away, and she turned to me, her mouth was full of blood. I had been letting my finger nails grow for playing my guitar. Well, my pinky managed to slip under her lip, and graze right at the crease where her top lip meets her jaw. Not having actually touched with anything else, I had no idea I'd even touched her. But when she turned to me, her mouth was full of blood. Well, needless to say, she ran out the door and later that week, I was having to explain it to the whole neighborhood that I wasn't some over baring white dude. It sucked. Other than that, the pregnancy went pretty smoothly. It was amazing to be able to watch Aviv develop inside his mom's womb. But finding strength in having a child so suddenly was a huge task to overcome. I had a lot of trouble thinking I could do it. I was sure it was a mistake, that I was gonna fuck it up. I mean, I'm gonna be a dad? Sounded almost like a reality, but how could it be, I didn't know anything about raising a kid. Then about six months into it, I had run into a friend at a restaurant I was working in and he laid it out to me. Listen, he said, being a dad is easy. Kid's need their mom's to eat. You don't really have to do anything but change diapers and make sure she gets enough food for like the first year. Amazing I thought, maybe I can do this. That was the first time I was able to accept that I was able to be a dad. By the end of the thought, I had reaffirmed my masculinity and adjusted my priorities to, by the time Aviv was born, to being ready, both mentally, spiritually and physically to journey with this kid and be his dad. Not having much outlet to work out my issues with his mom. I spent the majority of my time while not working staying up late and playing my guitar and singing my ass off. Aviv and I knew right off the bat how we were related to each other. Nothing could have been more simple. It turned out to be a wonderful experience and he has the potential to be one of the smartest, most experienced people I will ever know, mind his mother and her inability to integrate into our community in a wholesome loving way. Atleast, building a better dynamic with me, would help him feel more grounded I'm sure. Having by this time walked all the way through Valley Forge, I was on my way to a friend's house and just as I'd gotten tired enough that it was getting hard to keep going, a kid stopped at an intersection and offered to give me a ride. I made it to my friend's house, but with no lights on and it being 12:30, I decided to find a nice chill spot to sleep a while, as not to disturb his young family. I came upon a stream with a tree that over hung the water. Sitting on that tree, perfectly craddled I slept a couple hours and around the time people start to wake up, I walked back to his house and waited for them to wake up. Happy New Year on the mayan side of things.

I Told Her

Look out for him...let the listening begin... He needs two parent's sure... but you want to lay claim... for his honor, I back down... He deserves to tell his mother what he's been AROUND!!! Let the old man walk out the door. Listen intently, it's not your fault. Our son is just a little boy in a big world. He was too close to be able to come out with it, but now he knows he can, he has to... He let it go 3 weeks into the first standardized separation, now two years older, mom, tell him he's big enough to help let this one go... He knows what he needs to get on with developing a world that works for him, not one that he must develop to work. Tell him you love him and only want the best for him... Don't cry over it as if you had anything to with it... I know something held you back from being able to go inside yourself and feel. Don't worry, any tension between you and me was because I am Aviv's protection. He and I may have something special, sure, but that was something you gave us, not the boat you missed...You want to keep him. Fine. Let him have anything he wants...He's not into anything that's bad yet...and when he asks for me, let him have the opportunity to connect to his web and follow through with the devine blessing you and I have made, regardless how our minds have tried to make something more out of this...He is the validation that makes Love so real. Don't hate what you can't have...Elevate your position with your son and follow through, allow evolution to embrace your Spirit and move forward to a place that doesn't force you to do anything but provide the world already waiting for you to Live in. peace and blessings... Now Be Free. I love you, Aviv.

Everything is ready and waiting for us...

How I've Really Been Thinking Lately...

Yertle the Turtle by Dr. Seuss

nothing like a crisp summer's day

Before the Rain Starts to Fall...

Everyday adventures

just a moment for me atleast

Missing My Boy

I have made it passed yet another marker on the road of life, and still have no idea where I'm at. All I know is my heart is missing a beat because a little boy I know as my son no longer runs around the house looking for fun. Back into a world full of tempers and bastion, I sit here twiddling my thumbs inside question after question...what would I have done differently, son? I don't know. Every avenue presented itself directly towards the same end. Either lay it all out in the open, or you get sent back to where you're missing everything the world offers over someone else's shoulders. Your mom says she won... I wonder, has she listened to her son? I would like to ask her, is he getting out and having fun? Has he described the world to you over lunch? Would you like to know the secret of why he calls my name out when all he wants is love? Would you believe this never was a competition? I never asked for compensation...so relax and understand your whole perspective deserves a better version. The last person you should have ever attacked was the one with a hand on your back. No one to put a roof over your head ever laid a hand on you as far as you've run. They have been two kinds of people...Those who support those in need and those who haven't done that yet cause they can take what they want... Those with their own opinions, and those with someone elses. Aviv should not have to be confused and isolated in the middle, just because you found you could say the word chump. The battle driven to undercede. The energy awakened to vibrate virility is not one I want to see try to raise my son. I already know the outcome and his mom know's its unpleasantries far better than anyone. Yet one man divides her and tells her that what she wants can never be had, that the fight is the only thing falling on her lap... I asked, and found out we had everyone. So what's to fight for, except LOVE. If I fight for LOVE, what do I fight with? My hands? My feet? My mouth? My lungs? Myself? Do I divide myself just by chance? Or can I perform a balancing grasp far greater than any other act? I think I'll just leave this here and let my tears do a dance till I can come back and complete my task...making sure there is a path and not just someone else's perchance. If it so happened, give me a call, all I'd say is I Love You, in advance.