People who put their money where their mouths are, that’s how I define a member of the Holy Trinity. Integrity. Here were the first three who occurred to me.
Jackson Browne, the visionary poet of our age, who understands maybe more than anyone among us the interconnection between all things. His brilliance is evident in every line of this lyric. Such a touching, impactful song.
Before the Deluge/Jackson Browne
Some of them were dreamers And some of them were fools Who were making plans and thinking of the future With the energy of the innocent They were gathering the tools They would need to make their journey back to nature While the sand slipped through the opening And their hands reached for the golden ring With their hearts they turned to each other’s heart for refuge In the troubled years that came before the deluge Some of them knew pleasure And some of them knew pain And for some of them it was only the moment that mattered And on the brave and crazy wings of youth They went flying around in the rain And their feathers, once so fine, grew torn and tattered And in the end they traded their tired wings For the resignation that living brings And exchanged love’s bright and fragile glow For the glitter and the rouge And in the moment they were swept before the deluge
Now let the music keep our spirits high And let the buildings keep our children dry Let creation reveal its secrets by and by By and by– When the light that’s lost within us reaches the sky
Some of them were angry At the way the earth was abused By the men who learned how to forge her beauty into power And they struggled to protect her from them Only to be confused By the magnitude of her fury in the final hour And when the sand was gone and the time arrived In the naked dawn only a few survived And in attempts to understand a thing so simple and so huge Believed that they were meant to live after the deluge
Now let the music keep our spirits high And let the buildings keep our children dry Let creation reveal its secrets by and by By and by– When the light that’s lost within us reaches the sky
Hunter S. Thompson, a crazy-ass guy and writer with a unique voice. I felt so betrayed when he shot himself in 2005 but he had his time and his place, and he went out his way, and I respect him for that part of it. The world’s less interesting without him, though.
If you’re going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you’re going to be locked up.
The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It’s a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.
Here you’ll find my blog, some of my essays, published writing, and my solo performances. There’s also a link to my Etsy shop for healing and grief tools offered through A Healing Spirit.
I love comments, so if something resonates with you in any way, don’t hesitate to leave a comment on my blog. Thank you for stopping by–oh, and why not subscribe so you don’t miss a single post?
Leave a Reply