Musical Contemplation on Love

Many eons and
Many Ages
We have shared, butWe are here.

Does it matter
How long ago
You and I began

 

We are here and now.

Does it matter
How or where
We first met 

We are here and now, somehow.

If we recognize
The familiar
In the other 

We are.

If the moments
And the footsteps
Of our journey 

We are.

Are more precious
Together
Than apart 

We are we.

Must the beginning
Or the ending
Of our Infinite existence 

We are.

Need Ever
Become more
Or less Clear 

We.You and me.

 

 

Ashtora, 2007
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Tiny Signals–or ‘cell’-ular communication

Is there anything
So essential
As the tiny signals sent
From one cell to another
Acknowledging
That all is well
Or, that something yet
Is lacking
Or, to simply
Indicate
That now
Is the time
To breathe?
Ashtora, 2007

WADO–Cherokee for Gratitude

Life continually beckons us to consciousness, to awareness of the allness within.  We are no thing, we are all things.  Welcome Being.  Wado.–Ashtora 2008

Death & Dying: Dangling Priscilla

Have you ever seen an disabled person suspended in mid-air–somewhere between heaven and hell by a HOYA ?  It’s the stuff my nightmares are made of.  I dangle Priscilla, a ninety year old invalid, by day and see nightmarish visions of her by night.  The real nightmare is hers.  She can’t take it anymore…she mumbles over and over during her daily ”danglings” that transport Priscilla from her bed to her wheelchair and back again…day in and day out.

Life forced upon her, Priscilla dangles, kept alive by a feeding tube and a catheter–in one bag and out the other; visiting her husband of over 60 years for several moments or several hours at a time, determined by various factors effecting her tolerance and tolerability.

By day, I dangle her in suspension between wheelchair and bed; by night, I see her dangling in her HOYA Sling, suspended in vast Universal space, between heaven and hell.  With her mouth drooping to the side and agape, painted in bright red lipstick, short lime green hair spiked, body useless and limp, Priscilla hangs in her Royal Blue sling, slumping to the right, utterly helpless and defenseless…at the mercy of everyone and everything…sometimes aware, but mostly not…this is my nightmare.  Could the flames of Hades be any worse?

A few weeks ago, she asked me if I was going to shoot her.  I looked her in the eyes and said, “No, Priscilla, not today.”  With a look of shock and surprise, she actually managed a lopsided smile and said, “I like you, you’re funny.”

More recently, Priscilla spoke out loud, “I’m so lonely and so bored…”  But now, she can barely mumble, “I can’t take it anymore.” 

I’m ready when you are Priscilla, because I can’t take it anymore either.