Drag Queen by Day, God by Night

Dylan croons from the turntable Crickets talking back and forth in rhyme. . . Meanwhile, K feeds crickets from the pet shop to his Venus Flytrap and I can only wince at the gulf.

Yet February does brings it's own kind of gifts: dawn is a hint brighter and the birds sing a few minutes earlier – as if minutes matter – as if crickets do.

A new writing emerges.

A muse changes his clothing, becomes a drag queen by day and God by night. Or is it the other way around? Does image still matter? Lately, the intersection between image and archetype takes a backseat. Something else is at the helm – gulf and all.

At the level of the heart, faced with one's true nature, one must find contentment. This and other linchpins.

After too much cannabis, two dead grandmothers visit with messages. The sacredness of plants cannot continue to be underestimated. Don't ban the books but perhaps they are a tiny bit insufficient for what the cosmos has to say. And turn off the lights, lover. We don't need them. We don't need anything.

What is true is that we are not limited and time-bound. From the infinite view, we are whole in purpose, radiating the concentric circles of divine life from this center. When we are in alignment with Love, what is true and unchanging will matter not to our concept of time or first or last.

So, while winter comes and goes, love letters, births and deaths, dogs and kisses, keep your eyes and ears aware – for the way is always open and therefore, we must keep walking.