hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple …

ASHLEY WILSON FELLERS

I’ll tell you a secret … I’ve been a little distracted lately.

Harried.

Fractured.

Busy.

(Which — I’ll tell you — is a very modern and grown-up kind of brokenness.)

But today, I went for a walk in the woods — something I haven’t done for months now.

I disappeared into a hole in the trees — freckled dark shade and lush underbrush. I felt alive and at peace, and when I came out, I walked home and rustled through the bookshelves until I found this little gem by Mr. Cummings (or cummings, if you like) …

It’s a poem, but today I’m saying it like a prayer… For me and for you:

e.e. cummings

May we stay hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple, always. ❤

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Waiting For the G-Pumpkin


Waiting on anything that you truly want is as necessary to the process of having it…as it is to appreciating the process.  

Analogies  Not everyone one understands them. Let’s break it down.  To want something is to earn it OR have it given freely.  But to have it given freely devalues it worth.  To EARN it is to appreciate it AND develop an intrinsic value far greater than what was even anticipated.  

Slow it down.  Break it down…

Anticipation

Honor the process.  Know the process.  Adhere to the process.  What’s the process?!?  It’s hard to wait on something when there’s a lack of understanding.  It’s difficult to adhere to a process when the standard keeps changing.  It’s impossible to stick with the process if it doesn’t exist.  

Linus asked Sally to join him in his wait.  Together they waited on the “Great Pumpkin.” He had waited for a long time. He believed. He subscribed to a legend that the rest of the world had long since given up.  He was the last to believe, and his belief system could not be rocked. 
Sally, on the other hand, just loved Linus.  She believed in him. They had love languages that were very different.  He was a affirmed by her belief in him. She was committed to serving him. Together they could compliment each other. But there was a lack of communication. 

No matter how much they trusted each other, their goal was not the same.  He sought clarity. He held an energy that was built on belief and eventual delivery.  He was excited for the story he’d be able to tell.  Victory would be his!


She wanted to be by his side.  She wanted to support him.  She looked forward to the victory, but she was not as committed to the process.  She needed proof.  She was no fool.  She wouldn’t wait forever.  She trusted him, not the process. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even understand the process. 

In the end, she gave up.  She waited and waited.  She watched the signs.  She grew cold and weary.  She asked questions, but received no answers.  She could commit no longer.  

In a disappointed rant, she walked away.  She looked back as he yelled, “just wait, you’ll see!”   

It wasn’t about the “Great Pumpkin” at all.  It was symbolic.  She waited on him.  He will continue to wait.  He will surely ask someone new to sit with him in the pumpkin patch.  But it won’t be Sally.  It won’t be Sally!

Two Roads …

Amazingly timely! The convergence of two roads…

There’s a high road and a low road. Their intersection reveals that they both commence at two very opposite origins. No doubt they will arrive at two very remote destinations. That intersection is all that the two have in common. That one moment in time that the two are connected…

And then there is the third road. A heavenly path! Lit by God’s sun, and not often evident unless we look closely, it is the road less traveled. Believe that it is the most direct, and yet the least sought.

We are blessed with choices. Seek ye first, the kingdom! Man made roads are distractions and less direct.

ASHLEY WILSON FELLERS

I’ll tell you a secret: for a little while I’ve been standing at a crossroads. Stuck fast.

Big, hard-edged life choices have always been difficult for me, with my watery, soft-smudged way of seeing the world, and this season is no exception. The roads are diverging for me, and whichever way I choose has the potential to drastically change my future.

I don’t know, I find myself saying often.

I don’t know.

But.

The other day I was scrolling through the photo library of my old IPhone 4S — the one that I used to start this little blog, once upon a time — and I stumbled on this photo:


Down on the greenway near Carilion, at a bend where the trail meets the river, there’s a spot where you can stand under the intersection of three bridges: the railroad trestle, the roadway, and the pedestrian bridge. I was always…

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Dear Bed

How have you been?  It’s been too long.  My apologies are many but I await your apology too.  I know it won’t come because you will never knew why I left you for so long. You don’t even realize that you were wrong for me.  And that I was not at all what you needed. 

My new adventures have taken me away from my true love.  I will miss you. But I am awake now.  I will is you terribly. 

I long to sleep with you again–to hold you tight. Parting is such great sorrow.  Alas, I have moved on. My new life awaits.  

Sweeping Indictments

Tomorrow is just another Tuesday, but for the registered voters in New Jersey, California, New Mexico, Montanna, North Dakota, and South Dakota it is Election Day. You can tell who the democrats are by their level of enthusiasm. This is an anticlimactic time for the conservatives because their hero has already won by default. Even those who dislike the fact that Trump will be the republican candidate have long since quieted down.  

Who would have thought (even a year ago), that our nation would be at such a political impass? One thing is for certain. Regardless of how uniformed the voting public may be, everyone knows that the American standard is about to change.  Even the unregistered, non-citizens, and underage residents of our nation long to be a part of the conversation.  This will be an election year like no other.  EVERYone will have an opinion–and most of them will stink.  

There’s going to be a lot of shit-slinging.  And when the fight is over, we will all be covered.  

This is a time to watch the signs.  The decline of a nation (or even a civilization) will not be a sudden occurrence.  We watched it decline began hundreds of years ago. It is the rate by which we exchange information that makes this an interesting time to be involved.  

Social unrest, moral decay, hypocracy, economic injustice has reached intolerable levels.  This is not the time to be in power.  There will be no “sudden shift” like the politicos are forcasting. However, this will mark the end of an era. 

The ideas of obsconding to foreign lands were revisited when very few countries opened their borders to Syrian refugees.  They were being terrorized in their home land by extremist.  And still they received little empathy.  You think American defectors stand a chance in the eyes of the United Nations?  

Suddenly places like Russia and Western Europe seem mildly appealing. It’s time to start traveling–before U.S. passports become valueless.  It may time to visit the places that Bernie references (like Finland).   It’s not such a grand idea however to make reservations in places like Isreal or China.  The close proximity to Iraq and Afganistan does not make Americans any more welcome. The changing faces of American money (alone) is enough to be indicted for Western arrogance. It’s simply not a good look. 

Our entire political system has attention deficit disorder. Politics creeps their way into religious sanctuaries as pastors struggle to refrain from interjecting their personal beliefs. 

Who would Jesus vote for?  Clearly not the same candidate as Muhammad.  The social climate is no longer discrete.  Americans have become very vocal about their distastes and personal dogmas.  Feelings are getting hurt as everyone is openly professing their biases (and constitutional right to be a bigot).  Entitlement is at an all time high, but determination to thrive is at an all time low.  Who wants to be responsible for a nation of gluttons and theives?   For surely if this is the case, the Donald has already won.  

Why didn’t Bernie run for president in the 80s?  Was Carter so bad that the Democratic Party lost the confidence of the majority.  Where was the civil rights movement in the 70s?  Were the hippies too hung over on the gonja, or did they have a severe case of dance fever?  It seems that once we got some semblance of  what we wanted, we became complacent.  The yuppies and the buppies (Black Upwardly-Mobile Professionals) had enough easy access to timeshares, BMW’s, real estate, and education that the struggle dissipated. 

Now the struggle is real, and there are no more heros.  The private interest has gotten very clever in rallying public support. The mules keep hoping to get fed off of the excess wealth that was carved away from the American infrastructure.  The public didn’t even see it coming.  The few that did were deemed fanatics, socialist, and “liberals.”   

Conspiracies are real when they are FACT. Zealots warn of “the machine” just as the Panthers warned of “the man” but the status quo was acceptable to society as a whole. 

Tomorrow is Election Day and the fate of America is not sealed. In fact, the republicans who don’t vote tomorrow are also living on borrowed time.  How quickly can you change your party affiliation?  Quicker than you can sell your home and run away. That’s for sure!

Don’t give up, America!  We created this problem, but it’s not too late to fix it. We can take responsibility.  We can right the wrongs if only we recognize what we’ve allowed this to happen.  This IS your land.  This IS my land (too).  Let’s not run for the border; because no other nation wants to be contaminated either. 

Vote!

Bohemian Qween


Last not, at the spot
She was hot!
A single rose
From head to toes
The power of her flower

Where did she come from?
I didn’t spot her when I came in
Holding a single stem
Wearing a ripped dress
Was an ol’ lady in the corner

She smiled, I ordered a bottle

“Your finest wine, Chappy!”
“Coming right up, snappy”
But those glasses are so narrow
I’ll have another
Another?
And another!
“Hello, pretty lady…

Are you new around here?”
She didn’t speak;
Just poured me another glass,
While I caressed her a..

Are you my bohemian qween?

She still said nothing.

In the distance I heard this:

Ode to the Toilet


This is my toilet.  No I did not clean the bathroom before I shot this photo. I probably won’t after either.  Bathrooms are disgusting! And the toilet is the most neglected fixture in the bathroom.  We treat it like debris we flush.

The porcelain thrown…aside…

in the corner of the room.

A fluffy rug for my feet,

A cushy seat for my tushy,

Decorations to make my visit fun,

No literature to prolong the stay

Just the coolness radiating from its base…

It’s so dirty

The only time I think about scrubbing it

Is when I sitting there with nothing to do

But when I’m done, I’m done

Swoosh!

Ick!  Look at that dust.

How does anyone hug that

After a tough nite with a bottle

Of wine

It’s for your BEhind!

It’s not a place

For your face.

But for an ailing mind,

That wine was fine…

Oh faithful friend of mine,

Thank you for staying cool.

Thank you for being there when

I need you most

Last night

That was a heck of a toast

I must boast!

How toasted must I be

To hug a face like thee?

But you understand me.

My porcelain Qween

In my head I hear this ditty:

 

In the days of old

when men were bold

And toilets were not invented

I left my load

Upon the road

And walked away contented

High(er) Heals

Weddings are beautiful.  The innovative ways the bride and groom bring their families together to witness the moment that their lives become one. The smiling pastor and the glistening bridesmaids are all cheerful in anticipation; the groomsmen laughing and trying to remain dignified (still recovering from the night before); the groom smiling from ear to ear; and the beloved bride…glistening in her glory.  

My eyes were filled with visions of hope.  My ears awaited that single phrase, “I do…”  I began to tremble when the bride recounted how her husband-to-be was always there, but waited until the sanctified moment to do what he was called by God to do.  He was obedient. She was ready.  Their story brought tears to my eyes.  For although I’d come close to identifying  with their romance, it was so special and so unique that it was certain that God had his hand on it the entire time.  

As a mere witness to this couple that I barely knew as strangers, my heart swelled.  I was inspired.  Could this be how true love manifests?  There was healing in this ceremony.  It was ordained and sanctified.  Blessed and sincere, I too just know that all the days remaining from this day till the end would be blissful for this couple. 

She spoke of how’d they’d met; how their circles of friends were intertwined, how’d they were destined to be together, and how they had deviated from their paths only to finally come together as one.  It was a love story created before either of them had been conceived. 

Yes!  Stories like this truly exist!

As they prayed, I felt a healing.  

My heart had ached for hours the night before.  I woke cleansed but it wasn’t long before that deep pain crept back up on me.  Certain to be doomed, I was pessimistic as I arrived to the church.  I’d actually called upon several of my brethren to pray for me because my pain was internal.  No doctor could ease my pain.  My discomfort grew into anger which blossomed into rage.  

I was in no mood for love stories or pleasantries.  I resented the smallest gestures of kindness and repelled any hints of a smile.  But as s man of my word, I arrived to the chapel on time to bare witness.  

I’m glad I did.  

Beautiful dresses, handsome tuxedos, scuffed shoes, broken heels…

There were broken heels, but all that was broken is now healed.  

“Smile, You Look Too Serious”


Do I look too serious?  I can smile. I usually do.  For a long time I was considered the life of the party, the class clown, or “Mr.Social!”  As the center of attention, I can entertain or take a stand.  

To be honest, I’ve grown tired of entertaining. My smile entices, but my humor provokes.  I want to do more.  I CAN do more.  I am more than a clown.  I never resented the tomfoolery as long as I was the one orchestrating it, but there comes a time to  do more.  I need to stimulate the mind   There’s a time to awaken the spirit.  We are on the cusp of a revolution.  

Every generation experiences a turning point.  Whether it be political, religious, socio-economical, or even musical, how we confront change or challenge norms defines us.  Like my hair, I can not allow my grimace to define me. 

Watch me!

We are a nation that has smiled through injustices too long.  We’ve accepted the status quo so long that our stripped liberties leave us naked but still luke warm.  By the time we get cold enough to demand a restoration of our rights, it will be too late.  We won’t be placated any longer. We will demand heat!   We will start a fire.  We will burn it down!!

Am I mis-speaking?  Is this not what happened in Ferguson.  Is this not what happened to MOVE in Philadelphia 30 years ago?  Watts??  L.A. Riots in 92?  There’s not enough tainted water in Flint to keep souls from burning.  

Tension is high!  My smile could bring some relief, or it could mask a larger problem.  We’ve been wearing masks too long. They’ve smiled in our faces, and then stabbed us in the back. Who, you ask?  The ones we’ve trusted.  Our leaders, our clergy, our families…   Not deliberately, of course.  Accidentally, for sure!

They too are sheep leading, and being led.  Who will you follow?  And will you be smiling while you wait to be nudged at the slaughterhouse?

Too serious?  I don’t think so.  Not serious enough!  I’ll smile in the morning, 

when the dealing is done.

Deuces 

I need to write about this RIGHT NOW!  I want to swallow it whole and choke on the rinds of this melon.  I’m taking it all in and counting back the months.  I’m applying what little I know to the experience and the anxiety and the mystery of what I’ve just come through.  

I’m piecing the remnants of conversations with the omissions.  What was not said; what wasn’t done; what was said in deception and withheld in deceit.   

I’m recalling the passionate moments that were regretted hours later.  The whispers of “yes” adjoined with the sudden “NO!”

The confusion and the worry and the wonder and the anticipation…all lost in a moment. The trust that was lost and the perception that it ever existed in the first place.  

This has happened before and I get to watch it unfold again. Now! 

But this time another man is in her midst.  Will she make the same claims to him that she made to me.  Will he accept her as she is with out the pomp and circumstance?

I was made to feel like a king. She did that.  I thought she was a maker of dreams. She convinced me that I was born a King.  For she was my Queen.  And she waited her whole life for ME.  No longer.  For that is no more.  Now she will be the Queen of another.  His talents and his endeavors, his quests and his ambition will win her over.  In fact, it already has. 


As she disembarks the plane, he will greet her with warmth. For he will immediately  recognize the sacrifice that she’s making for him.  She will speak never again of the sacrifices she once made for me.  She is ready to love again. 

He won’t ask. He will seize the moment. Taking her into his arms, he will whisper things she’s longed to hear.  And for him, she will belong…

Fairy tales always end with someone else living happily ever after.  And to truly love another is to want them to be happy no matter how the story ends.  

But how can it make sense when we see the scenario replay with new characters?  The role of me is being played by a celebrity?!?  And the role of the protagonist is still played by the woman who was once My leading lady???

I shouldn’t be watching; especially from 800 miles away.  I want to change the channel, but like a train wreck…

THAT’S AN AWFUL THING TO SAY!

How presumptuous (and mean-spirited) to conceive such a thought!

Not every two people who are put in the same room are meant to be together.  I’ve just so happened to be that guy who stays in the room with the wrong person for too long. 

And for a consecutive moment, I get to watch the one I thought I’d hold eternally…fall in love with another who is open-minded, open-hearted, and maybe even better designed to hold her heart. 

Damn!  Universe, is it your intention to mock me?  Is my purpose merely to hold a place in time so that the one(s) I love can prepare for their destiny?  Must I grow weary of each lover and release her to an unsuspecting fool?  Everytime this happens, a man completely opposite of me receives the prize.  Not to objectify, but the heart of another is truly a blessing.  

Cantaloupe.  Canteloop!  Can’t elope. 

I didn’t elope.  I was the bridegroom.  It’s an honor that many men never realize.  I’ve had my chance.  Now I will watch yet another man kneel down and propose to the one I once held.  She will say yes, and she will belong…

My place in all of this?  To hurt like I’ve hurt others.  To watch as others have watched me.  To cry, as others have cried.  It’s a cycle that MUST not be interfered with.  

I don’t believe in karma.  I believe in faith.  And my faith tells me that I never had a clue.  I trusted too much, but understood too little.  If it were not for faith, I’d have no understanding at all.  Tis Love!

Tonight is the night that love will be made.