Your Feedback means a lot to me.
I have been writing in a vacuum for many years.
YES, I get feedback from time to time,
outrageous positive regard for some of my writings,
but I have had a pattern of abandonement
going on inside of me.

I just woke up, and I am making a logistical
choice to write out some Soul inspired thoughts
before they go fleeting back,
becoming one more incomplete,
one more still more Seed Dream.

I followed by spirit in put up
I Write from Stuck Bones
because it begins with a feeling
of looking for work the summer
after High School
walking around the neighborhood
in the same suit and tie that I wore
at my graduation.

That was the summer when I was left
alone, a few blocks from the Miracle Mile,
with a house ful of furniture and a 1952 Chevy
I could not drive.

The irony is that I so deeply needed my father
to teach me how to drive that car when my manhood
was an issue. I needed to drive that car at a time
'when the other young men were starting to date
the young girls. It was a radical self esteem issue
being able to drive. My father would not allow me
or teach me how to drive his only car.

I remember suffering long and hard over this.
I know it stymied my manhood in the mind of a
16-17 year old who was licensed by the state
of CA to drive but not by his very own father.

And then, a month before graduation,
he dissapeared, my father dissapeared.
He went off to chase my stepmother.

He left me with a sting.
He said, "You are ruining my marriage!"

Every time my stepmother would yell at me
I would yell back. Then she would run away.
This was killing my father.

So I stopped yelling.
Yelling was all we knew in that family.
We always yelled.
My father was the loudest yeller you have ever heard.
He was a Cantor in the Jewish Synagouge.

He was a man who made women swoon in the Shule
(Synagogue) with his voice.

To this day, he is probably one of the greatest authentic
prayers I have ever heard. When he does the High Holiday
Prayers, it is as if they were never prayed before.

His emotion, his sense of blindless and blinding devotion
to God is so pure, so in the moment,
it is as if most of the prayers
which he knows by heart
have never, ever been said before.

When I was a kid I would admire and feel
the women in the Shule moved by this manhood
of a man praying to God.

And then, Good God,
on the High Holidays he would blow the Shofar!
The Shofar is the Ram's Horn.

The rams Horn signals AWAKENING!
WAKE UP! The MESSIAH is ABOUT TO COME!
HE HAS ARRIVED!!!

Within the Jewish Religion they do not yet believe
the Messiah in here yet.

But they blow the Ram's horn--the Shofar--every year.

How curious!

They blow the born, but they do not accept the coming.

Back to the point...

When he blew that horn, he blew a Shofar that was
given him, if I recall by his father.

It was a family heirloom.

Somehow, at a point in his life,
he passed that shofar to me.

When he blew it, the women would swoon.
The rafters of the synagogue would resound.

I could blow that Shofar quite well too.
I actually lost that shofar when my original
VW, new in 1972, was stolen in 1990,
but that is another story.

Anyway, Ren thank you.
You just got in the flow of my inspiration...
it is 5:21 AM on April 14, and I cannot tarry too long
'here if I want to get ready for the MEGA MARKETING UNIVERSITY
with Mark Victor Hansen that starts tomorrow morning at 9.

I will continue this with a new message called Good Fathering
on another Blog.

Your Enchanted Gardener