Amber's Beach Adventure

Amber's Beach Adventure   by Micki Morgret-Goldberg





Amber had been building a sand castle for the better part of the morning packing a pail with scoops of the beach. The grumble in her tummy told her it was almost time for lunch. The sun also revealed that it was high noon as it hung high above her head in the haze.

Sizzling in the sun's stare she had yet to notice her small shoulders were turning red because the ocean breeze caressed her skin and kept her cool with goose pimple kisses. Especially when she returned to the powdery white beach after frolicking in the foamy tide of the turquoise colored water.

Seagulls squawked in the distance. Wide waves lazily folded against the shore creating a lulling symphony of murmurs. Amber danced to the maritime melody sprinting from spot to spot in search of sea tumbled rocks and bits of glass, smoothly rounded by years of being battered between the ebb and flow of the tide. To Amber, they weren't just pieces of glass. They were treasured jewels pillaged long ago by pirates. Lost for centuries at sea when their ship capsized in a storm stranding the crew on a deserted island. Hurricanes are scary and destructive. Yet she found it beautiful that something horrible actually released a bounty held by bullies, so that the booty could float towards those worthy of such a reward. 

From afar one might mistake her for a mischievous sea nymph. Unkempt curls of her flowing red hair seemed to chase after her delicate limbs which gracefully flailed around her as she floated and frolicked about the beach. Shoveling the sugary sand into a bucket that was almost half her size. Whisking it back to her castle paying no attention to the weight of the world she literally lugged with her.


If you get a little smile out of this quick escape to the beach please share that light with all those you meet today. Thank you for reading ~MIcki
                                                                 

Rosy Matters by Micki Morgret-Goldberg

Rosy Matters by Micki Morgret-Goldberg

It’s one of those hot days in summer. So heavy even the wind can't move. Luckily today I got assigned to cashier the snack shed near the fountains at the park.  A splash from their spurts every once in a while catches the breeze from one of the oscillating fans rigged up to blow on the window of the stand for the customer’s comfort. It’s about the only relief I get from those K-Mart fans today. Without the splashes all they are really doing is panting up hot breath like my Aunt Judy’s St. Bernard. My stomach turns as I recall the sour smell of his drool. Blech! A drop of fountain water flies into mouth. I gag.

I look across the way at the ball diamonds. My friend Ramona is running the beverage cart by the bleachers. At least I get to sit on a stool if I want. Ha! She’s stuck standing there by a cart like a chump. And all’s she has for cover is an old cotton beach umbrella with a RC Cola logo on it. Stupid thing is so old that even from here you can see light stream in through the worn out threads even in the middle of it. It streams in and seeps around her. It illuminates her bright yellow hair. It looks like her head is a night light even in the middle of the day. She’s resting her chin on her palm, bent over at the hips, perching her left elbow on the top of the cart. I think she sees me, I wave. Rather than wave back she subtly pops her left hip to the side without moving anything else. She shrugs her shoulder a bit too as she wings her hip back. Ha! She’s pissed. May be tomorrow I will bring my little brother’s walkie-talkies. At least we could try and talk with them and then I wouldn't feel like I ditched her somehow. Why didn't I think of that last week when we started these jobs?

Suddenly a bunch of boys come around the corner of the snack stand. Oh shit! Nathan Baker! I've been dying to see him since school let out. His nose is turned up kind of at the tip. His cheeks have tiny freckles on them. I like how when he wore a polo shirt the collar hugged his long neck. He was with his baseball team, I wondered if he would be playing here this summer! Oh goody! I hope he doesn't talk to me. I would just die! I blush at the thought. 

 One of the boys on his team, Tommy the leader, snapped at me. “Hey! Get me a bag of Big League! Grape.” He stared me down. Tommy was a creep. More than a bully. I felt unsafe around him somehow. I just wanted him gone. “We only have strawberry. We should get more grape Thursday.” I managed. I tried to hide my gulp, “Want strawberry?”

“Want strawberry?” he mimicked. “Fuck no dyke I don’t want no strawberry.” Glaring at me now he paused and forcefully thrust the napkin holder from the counter into the shack. Every one jerked with a start. He pointed at me and clenched, “You better have Grape Thursday.” Without turning his back to me he slid away from the stand then kind of slithered away in a way that his followers, all of them, filed in behind him even if they had intended to buy something. They all walked away following him. Nobody was going to stick up for the girl? I was too embarrassed to look at Nathan for his reaction and the day was dark and cold for a moment. “Why did he call me a dyke?” I wondered. “God I hate that guy” I stated to no one. 

A couple of cars pull up and park across the street. The people who got out of them were dressed up pretty good for a regular Friday afternoon at the park I thought. The women and young girls were wearing flowing white dresses decorated with bouquets of turquoise and purple flowers tied with dark green and yellow bows. Every style was different but the material matched. All of the men were wearing nice suits. They didn’t match like the women at all, but they looked nice. I see the last person get out of the back seat of the 2nd car and I see that she is a bride. Oh! A wedding! 

They all seem more nervous than joyful. I find that odd but what do I know? I am only fourteen. One of the regular aged looking lady’s gets into the trunk of the first car and pulls out a shallow cardboard box. Like the ones at Grab and Bag that hold like 4 six packs. I can’t tell yet what’s in the box but suddenly everyone begins to gather around her while she holds it. Peering into it like there could be anything of magical value in that box of their choosing, somehow too it reminds me of when a box of bakery fresh doughnuts is opened on a Sunday morning. The oldest of the two little girls within the small group tips up on her toes and just reaches in and grabs , what I can now tell is, a giant flower corsage.  A giant puffy cluster of red carnations surround a silky, snugly curled up white rose bud sprinkled with baby’s breath. I see the reflection of the pearl tipped corsage pin catch the sun. For a second it sparkles. The lady who is holding the flat box snatches the corsage back from the girl’s docile hand and barks at her. The little girl doesn't seem fazed at being chastised. The lady puts the large cluster of flowers back into the box and retrieves a similar, but much smaller version of the decoration. She hands it to the little girl and scoots her off into the direction of which I can only guess is her grandfather, a tallish man with kind of graying hair. He helps her put it on and taps her on the head when he is finished.

One by one the lady holding the box passes some type of flowered ornament to everyone who is standing around her. All helping each other pin them on or tie them to their wrists. 7 adults and 2 kids. I see that the youngest girl, 3 maybe 4, is milling about their feet like a cat at feeding time, jumping up trying to look in the box which the lady has now sat on the trunk of the car. Suddenly the grandfather stops her by placing his hand on her shoulder, looking down he speaks to her. I see her rub her hands together while talking to him and then she points to his lapel. He looks down, frowns, and looks in the box and turns to look for the lady who was just holding it. He calls to her, I faintly hear him say loudly to her something about a flower for the little girl. The box lady freezes. Almost as if she got caught in time. Her hands pull her arms down like they are suddenly dumb-bells. She gasps out and shakes her head like a swarm of bees are buzzing her brow thinking about invading her head to make a beehive. “No! I didn't  she lobs back holding onto the “I” like surely now, she was going to be offered a cigarette and a blind fold. Like what happens in the action movies my old man watches when they execute a bad guy who may or may not have done something deserving of getting executed.

“What’s the matter?” the grandmother seems to ask. I’m pretty positive it’s the grandmother because even though she looks like she is barely 40 her hair IS a beehive. I didn't know people still styled their hair like that anymore. “Nobody got a flower for Marcy” one of the guys piped. They kind of seemed to care. At least I heard some moans from the crowd. That’s when I realized that everyone had a flower of some kind except the baby. How sad! 

It wasn't like there were a lot of people there who needed flowers.  So who could forget that little baby? She was cute! She looked like a Strawberry Shortcake doll!  She kept pointing at her grandfather’s flower. But now she was crying. I heard her wail something about everybody. Apparently she just figured that one out too. The bride squatted down and rubbed the cherub’s little back. I could tell she was talking nicely to her and the girls tears let up a bit. Then the crowd broke up. The men headed for shade under the trees. The women were fused to their billowy dresses. The material just clung to their steamy legs with no breeze and buckets of humidity all about them. The dresses now kind of remind me of the wet t-shirts that the models wear on the Snap-On Tools calendar that hangs in my neighbor’s garage. I like to look at it when no one is around. I hope I look like those girls when I’m older.

I hear a crack of an aluminum bat echo across the ball field. I turn to look. That’s when I notice I have a customer. “Hey lil’ rosy, if you could help me out sometime today that’d be great girly.” It is some dude with a pint of booze poking out of the rear pocket of his cut-off Levi’s. He isn't wearing a shirt. He has been tan forever apparently. At first I thought he was being rude but he flashes a grin and leans into the shack a bit. I notice he is missing a front tooth. Wow! He is kind of hot! He is old though I think. Like 23. Someone told me smokes weed. I think he makes money by mowing lawns. “Can I get a Sprite?” he chimes.  I think I say “Sure!” as a response. But I’m not sure that is really what I said.

He already laid two quarters down on the chipped Formica counter. I sweep them up with the side of my palm into the open palm of my other hand and toss them in the money tray. I shrug my shoulders and sputter out some kind of word. Actually it’s more like a sound a seal would make if someone was strangling it with a loosely looped garden hose. “Real slick…GOD!” I heard a voice in my head say. I turn away from him. May be he will go away and come back another day if I ignore him now. May be I’ll have something cool to say to him if he comes back then. He snaps the cap off the emerald green glass bottle with an opener from his front pocket. “See ya’round” he says and kind of salutes me with the pop. He steps to the side of the shack and pours half the Sprite out and replaces it with the liquor from his shorts. I wonder if he wears underwear.

Another car pulls up behind the two cars already situated across the street. A photographer gets out and hurries around the front of his car towards the group gathered on the lawn, now all under the trees. The way his camera is dangling around his neck by its strap, he looks like an ostrich saddled up without a rider. Late! Dork! The grandfather is still standing with the little girl between the first two cars. I think she is still asking him for his flower. He picks her up in his arms and shakes his head no. As he talks to her he points his finger around at the other family members and the photographer. She isn’t crying anymore but she still looks sad. Distracted.

I can only suspect he explained that the flowers were for the people in the wedding party or that the adults needed to wear them for the pictures or whatever. But I can see even in the watery white hot day her little lungs are still heaving. He marches over to the group and puts her down on the ground. The photographer calls at her and begins waving his hand in a way to imply he wants her to come stand over by him. WHAT!? Weird! Why wouldn't they let her in the picture! The little girl looked so defeated to me. It was like she didn't matter. I wonder if it will matter. Will she feel she mattered later because when she was three the adults she trusted chose to give higher value to a flower than to her tears? Nah, she is just a kid. She is probably already thinking about Candy Land or Sesame Street or something like that.

I hear a chaos approach the stand, around the corner comes Tommy and his clan. Nathan isn't with them anymore. Tommy stops and turns and looks at me. Suddenly it feels like it’s freezing out again. He cocks his arm and makes a fist. “Got any Grape yet” he growls. His flock quiets down except for Jim. He snickers. Jim is a dick. And come to think of it. He looks like one too. 
“Go fuck yourself Tommy” I wanted to say. Maybe he will just go away and come back another day. Maybe I’ll have the coolest thing to say to him by then and I won’t be afraid.

“C’mon Tommy.” a kid named Stu said. Grabbing Tommy around the neck and lugging him off. “You are a fucker you know it asshole.” They all start laughing. Though I think it’s because they are relieved, like me, that nothing actually happened just now. Stu Morris. Why haven’t I ever noticed Stu Morris before? 

I gaze across the park to look at my friend. Wait till I tell her about Stu! She’s sitting down on the ground now. Trying to hunker in what little shade there is from the cart upon which she sitting against in the midday sun. Her legs are pulled up to her chest bringing her knees almost to her eye level. I then realize she is picking at the scabs on her knees and looking at them before she flicks them aside.  Ramona is so gross!
I think to look back at the wedding party to see if they took her picture yet. The cars were loaded up and were pulling away. Strawberry Shortcake was hidden away now. I could no longer see if she was still crying. Maybe her grandpa finally gave her his boutonniere. May be it didn't even matter in the first place.

The Light Inside

(The following short story was "inspired" by the famous painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper. I was asked to create a story reflecting what may be occurring within the portrait between the people painted within it. ~Micki)

Outside, where no one asks you how you are, it is dark. And no one strolls by anymore. They just blow by! In a flash! Then, boom! They are gone. Their distant hurried footsteps echoing a whispered thunder down the street, proof the silent storm of sadness rages around them. While they race by they once again missed the light inside. 

A special vision comes from stillness. It takes a special vision to see past the repressive color scheme of army green. Most people are afraid to peer past the past while searching for some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. Questioning if it is there, by chance lurking somewhere in the future. It seems too daunting a task to think of waiting it out in measures of time. That was the real burden of war. Waiting out the darkness. Others, though, were just as anxious waiting out the darkness but rather than ponder the light they just accepted the fact it was indeed there. Even on the longest night, when just the idea of light was hidden by the distance of a million miles, they knew it was there. Therefore they allowed themselves to be led by it. They knew they didn't need to rush towards it. It was there waiting for them knowing when it was the right time shine. Time is an unatrual measure to these kind of people. This is how they have special vision and so it was this way that people could see the light from inside.

Inside buttery yellow light melts from the ceiling, drips down the walls, oozes out the window panes and glazes the sidewalk around the front of the building. Sonny is the proprietor of Phillies, a kitchenette. Inside Phillies is where the light that trickles out, begins. Engage Sonny in conversation and he may give you a piece of day old pie on the house. "Given the night hour and all" he'd chimed with a cocked smile, twinkle in his eye. It was his way of thanking one for adding to his day. He knew time and kindness were free to give away yet, "Folks seem to hold onto those things like they were gold today", he pondered "they must be convinced the stakes are too high I suppose." 

Ester watched Sonny plate the last piece of tart cherry pie for the loner seated at the other end of the counter. She had seen the man hanging around Phillies for years yet the only thing she knew about him for certain was that his name was Cal. 

He never added much to conversations. He didn't seem to take much away from them either. If someone asked Cal a question he usually answered with a cliche`. Something boring like "Well, if the shoe fits." Or, "As they say in Sardinia .." with which he always padded with a pause as to imply he was exceptionally clever. Everyone in the diner knew that there was no such saying. Including Cal but it didn't stop him. His co-workers could only describe Cal as an awkward orangutan.

Although the diner still casts a slight glow from the inside out into the gloom it isn't as bright as it used to be. It's heartbeat ceased when The Service became a demand and not a calling. Until 3 months ago Ester was a waitress inside. Eventually however customers became a commodity  When the men left to fight, families were forced to relocate away. There weren't any factories nearby so riveters weren't gunning for seats at the counter either. There just wasn't enough business to keep Ester AND Sonny busy. He had to let her go.

But she kept coming back because Sonny made a decent cup of joe. She would bring different friends at different times. Maybe one took her dancing. Maybe another to dinner. Sometimes both. Some helped her pay rent too. It wasn't something she was ashamed of nor did she let it define who she was. She never lost sight of the light inside.

Keeping time with the swing songs playing on the radio she tapped her fingertips on her coffee cup. Radios were everywhere these days. Tuesday she heard one playing in the library. Radios had become a tether to their reality. A droning voice always in the background acting as a generic conscious  reminding them that perhaps it still wasn't the time to think about the light at the end of the tunnel.Between the war reports every quarter hour though, the radio would also play Big Band numbers. Catchy songs punctuated with blaring bursts of trumpeted sunshine. Even sad songs and longing love ballads were punch drunk with their staccato. The songs contrived happiness for them and played on their sub-conscious as well. Reminding them that if they dared, they COULD dream of better days ahead. Their faith would be rewarded. They just had to wait.

Ester began laughing. "I used to wait tables for tomorrow" she said "Now I wait for tomorrow at tables." Ester stopped laughing. She glanced out the giant plate glass window and into the darkness. Outside wasn't that far away.

"Sonny" she sighed while leaning in to lounge on the counter with her elbow, "tell me about the good ol' days.""Sure! Say, you ready for some pie? Just made it this morning" he sang, "at the crack of dawn!"

Sow the Seed for One so You can Feed Many

A childhood friend from school recently posted this update on Facebook;
 
Maybe life is all about being first after all! Being first is about consciousness, not competitiveness, i.e., “as you sow, so shall you reap.” To be loved, you have to be willing to love first; to be cherished, you have to be willing to give respect first; to be heard, you have to be willing to listen first; and to experience forgiveness and freedom, you have to be willing to forgive first....;^)
 
I was so thrilled to see such a positive seed start to peak through for my friend! Instantly I responded with an encouraging message may be it could help perpetuate his journey.
 
Only a few short years ago I discovered a message about living life with intention. When I originally discovered intention it was demonstrated by teachers mostly as something one implements with one's mind. Indeed that is how our spirit processes this physical world in which we roam, thoughts of physical things. When people discover intention though it is usually sold to them with the intention of try to getting stuff. I have to admit sport scars and lake front property are powerful forms of incentive. You might be asking so I just have to think about owning this stuff and it will come to me? Yes! No! Kind of!
 
The information I sought out in order to learn more about intention mentioned that it was equally important to use your heart as a means of intention as well. At that time I didn't fully understand what that meant. I was more like "C'mon! I love Ford Mustangs with all my heart...so let's do this!"
 
 Right. Right! Right?

Intention is an amazing source with tremendous power. Intention is Our superpower. We were equipped with it before we even got here. Some need to remember. Some need to forget! Those who are in touch with it now need to share it because of these two reasons.
 
Yes, eventually by using your mind to intend, a thick thread of golden light will connect from the mind to the heart and when that happens the light will also run a river of light to your stomach. WALLA! JUST LIKE THAT you are connected! Every answer you ever wanted to know is within you. I guarantee you too that, what you think you want to know now will be the farthest thing from what you will want to know later!
 
This fear and distrust we have in the world today is created by the fear and distrust we have within ourselves about ourselves. It is of utmost importance to build a relationship with yourself based on love and trust. Regardless of what you think you want, what you really want is to faithfully trust yourself. Because ultimately we know that the answers for us ARE within us.I know. Because I have finally heard my answers. Yet there are so many more questions and answers to ask and evolve! Exciting!
 
It took years of believing in this way of peace within my mind before the REAL feeling connection made it to inside my heart. But once the full circle was completed with light between my mind, heart and stomach...my world changed!
 
Suddenly every thing about my world was beautiful. All of it. Joy, Happiness, Sadness, Sorrow. Fear, so to say, no longer exists in my world. I no longer have to judge it's appearance. Or lack thereof. Yea me!
 
Best part yet? I realized my real desire no longer included cars, jewelery, real estate...money...my desire ultimately became the need to share this peace with anyone who has it or would like to have  it for themselves.
 
Look for and align yourself with people who are seemingly interested in believing in this peace. Before you know it, you will not only see the shift but you will FEEL the shift. Intend on feelings. Real true power that instantly manifests what you wish is only successful with real true feeling. If it is more comfortable to comprehend, think about it this way...just plant seeds in your mind that could grow into  a way of intending to live life with your heart and not just with your mind. 
 
You will only find it though when you take you on. Believe in one and you can believe in many. Cliche? Read it some where before? Well it is because you can answer YES to both of those questions. Yes always feels better than no right?
 
Jason and I bonded over music when we were teenagers. Nothing extremely compelling there, but because of a moment we shared in Guidance class....(ponder that one for a moment) our sophomore year, I remembered that music is near and dear to his heart; as it is mine. I have recently discovered that my relationship with music was almost clandestine. If it was woven into my core before I got here or detected early on by angels that it was the ultimate way to reach me I don't know. Its like the question 'What came first the chicken or the egg?'
 
I don't know, better yet, I don't have to know. What is important for Me to know is that it saved me. As I reflect on my journey I recognize that my passion, music,  knew best for me all along by grace. I can trust myself now. WALLA!
Now I have a wonderful relationship with myself that is based on trust and self-love and now I ultimately desire to have a wonderful relationship with humanity too! I have witnessed how a full circle allows me to physically and emotionally manifest wonderful experiences everyday.Instantly.
 
I asked myself, "Self, how can we help Jason?"
 
I heard MY Voice plain as day, from inside, remind me of a recent revelation I had about the songs my heart aligned with throughout my life.
 
I discovered those particular songs that I sang aloud with even YEARS ago,while using my whole heart to fill them up as I screamed them sang them cried them, have come true.

The real jackpot is that what I thought they meant to me then couldn't be farther from what they REALLY meant then and represent to me now. And what I have come to understand about me from those songs, concerning me, is priceless.
 
In essence, those songs were seeds that I sowed with love within myself. By singing from my heart the seeds were planted with pure intention and innocence within my heart for my heart. It was a long dormant season but the harvest was bountiful. I had hidden love and trust away. But the seeds eventually sprouted and caused a crack in the foundation. The foundation I had used to cover-up love and trust. Thank God! Sowing those seeds eventually busted up that foundation and in turn allowed light to get in. The light helped the seeds of intention grow into something physical! Now where I feel my heart I see a giant deep-red rose, in full bloom with millions of layers of velvety petals, a lit from within rather than from above with super sun shiny light.
 
 A million words could never do justice to the joy I feel for those songs now that I really understand WHAT they meant/ mean to ME. I love them EVEN more now. Not long ago you couldn't have convinced me that would even be possible. Not even for a bag of Jack's magic beans. But AHA! Did I?
 
So my advice to you Jason, if you haven't found that connection, trust, love, inner light...re-visit some songs you LOVED to rage out with. Even if it was 20 years ago or 20 days ago find one that lit up your world and shed some light on that seed!
 
From my heart I thank you for today Jason. You helped me create.
You shared a meme from 3rd Rock today that referred to the fact that just because I know I have a shitty singing voice, it has never stopped me from singing out loud from my heart.
 
You are a part of this whole experience for me...quizzing me with AC DC lyrics way back when. Me, failing miserably all the while. Today though it is not lost on me how special it is that ultimately, part of my blog's title is inspired by their song Live Wire. I hope you can appreciate the beauty of this 360 moment. 360. A circle. A circle of light within your heart, almost like a gear for yours is only ONE of many gears needed for this place to run full peace ahead.
...and that feeling in your heart right now is what pure love is suppose to feel like always. Everyday. You CAN feel that all of the time...even on gray days. Your heart is calling! Answer it! Love you brother.
 
 
 
 
Soon here I will share with how you can deal with the physical shifts that will occur inside your body then the foundation starts to crack. Some people call it anxiety. I call it a blessing.
 
Thank you for your time. I appreciate your value in this world.
 
Love, Peace and Light
 
Micki
O L P
 
 

Last month while celebrating a  'land mark' birthday in Vegas I was serenaded Happy Birthday by part of  the girls rugby team from Colorado. They were in town for a tournament and tumbled onto the elevator with me at the hotel where we were all staying.

My friend and husband were riding with me.The girls noticed the plastic tiara I was wearing for fun for my birthday. The plastic crown was plain. It didn't say Princess, Birthday Girl or Bride-to-Be so of course they asked what the occasion was. When my friend told them it was my birthday enthusiastically they responded by asking me if they could sing to me. I don't know if they were members of a choir as well, but that handful of voices singing in such a small area sent goosebumps up and down my spine.

Yesterday afternoon those girls popped into my head. May be I should note it was exactly a month to the day of the impromptu concert, some thing I didn't realize until a few minutes after I had this "A-Ha!" moment.

Sure it is natural to respond in kind when you find out it is someone's birthday. The girls were just being silly and having fun. They had no clue that by offering me a song they were actually giving me the perfect Micki present. Yesterday while thinking about them I asked myself, "Really, how did they KNOW?"

Being such a passionate advocate of music it was more than a coincidence that something like that happened to me. They could have just said, "Awwww Happy Birthday! Are you having a good day?" But they didn't. They SANG to me! It was a touching moment offered to me by strangers that I will always remember.

As I relived that moment yesterday I said thank you out loud to whom ever may have been listening to me at that time.  I could hear the girls voices perfectly harmonizing for me in my head so I also added out loud, through giant crocodile tears,"They sounded like angels!"

Instantly I was overwhelmed inside by love because I realized it wasn't the girls singing to me and indeed they didn't "know"!  It was my angels! Knowing my love of music the angels sang to me the best they could. The angels sang to me through the Girls Colorado Rugby team.

Angels are calling out to you all of the time. They are very clever in finding fun personal ways to reach out to you. Those weird things that stick with you through out your days are post it notes of  love from those who look out for you. Don't peel them off, wad 'em up and cast 'em away. Regard them with appreciation, graciousness, love and pass 'em on. The girls as it turns out are proponents of a sobriety clinic in Florida surely a positive message that attracts many to their over all intention of good and well being.

I tried to find out how the girls finished in their tournament but I couldn't locate that info. It doesn't matter though because they will always be winners...champions... in my book.

I did find their 2012 team picture however. Looking at those faces, their poses, their happiness instantly brought back the goosebumps they gave me in the elevator. My hope for them is that they remain in a place  throughout their lives where the angels know they can always call on them to help spread love and light.
Thank you Lady Bison's.

http://www.colorado.edu/studentgroups/womensrugby/

Pass The Time by Micki Goldberg

Wheels move this iron beast. My home away from home. Its rubber paws hug the

asphalt below causing a hum that lulls me to sleep with a rocking roar.

A sleep with no rest, a sleep just to pass the time.

Entombed in my bunk, this womb where I escape from the road weary.

I hide here to just to pass the time.

By day I pay a ransom for my art. 

Led by a leash I am a guest at a zoo. A Zombie

off the bus I play a raw song for the gawkers and grabbers. 

But that is not the only toll they take!

A flash. A hug. A pat on the back. I sign my name

on a warrant. A wanted poster that displays my face.

Once this was a reward now it’s just a way to pass the time.

Meeting strange faces standing in line, what a strangely fantastic

way to just pass the time.

At night I am a gem gleaming in the spotlight

my name could be Mecca for thousands travel

far and wide to worship me, watch me, hear me, love me.

My electric sound drowns their echoes, their calls, their wails.

I am recharged, alive, energized.

I catch a glimpse of the soul I sold and I realize how much I miss him.

I wonder if I could save him?

But it is time for the encore, then time to go and load onto the beast, and into my tomb.

And like the wheels upon which I ride the day comes around again

just to pass the time.

You Can Get Water From A Black Stone Cherry.

Today's Grace: Thank you for the opportunity to finally see the testament of Kentucky rockers Black Stone Cherry live! I can attest that in doing so my rock tour was re-routed in a new and overwhelmingly awesome way. Woooooooo!

Set list for today: All I'm Dreamin' Of

Click to hear All I'm Dreamin' Of by Black Stone Cherry

(No copyright infringement intended...only pure unadulterated love.)


I am sharing this song with you because it is a pure illustration of the spirit that brought me here to write everyday. My heart is full of optimism for humanity and just when I think I couldn't possibly fit anymore hope within it this song comes along and allows it to expand instantly. Just to make that dream of more hope come true.

Lyrics to the song are below but I'd hate for you to miss the beautiful melody of All I'm Dreamin' Of.
You can find the link to the song above...yep...same direction you look when you search out the heavens.

Something about our world today
That makes me wanna cry
There's too much anger and too much pain
Too much money and too many lies
If I could have one wish tonight
I would beg of us to forget our pride
If we could do just one thing right,
We could help each other to love our lives

[Chorus]
All I'm dreamin of is good times, good friends, and somebody to love.
All I'm dreamin of is no fears no tears and blue skies up above.
There's people around us everywhere
Who need help like you and me
A family was taken by a storm
And we just watched it on tv.
If I could have one wish tonight
I would beg of us to forget our pride
If we could do just one thing right
We could help each other to love our lives.

[Chorus]

When one things right another is wrong
But in the end love will always keep us strong.
All I'm dreamin of is a house on a hill and somebody to love
All I'm dreamin of is the sun to shine and blue skies up above.