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Mic it up
R- Go on and mic it up
You never know who might walk in
If you can’t fly then run
IF you can’t run then walk
If you can’t walk then crawl
But whatever you do
You have to keep moving forward
So, go on and mic it up
Do you have a dream
Or are you living the nightmare
Do you merely believe or do you know
The prisons of our mind, they captivate
Make us hesitate. . . So
There are a thousand reasons to watch and wait
Shallow lives unlived, submitted to Fate
Your Groove is waiting baby
Belief is the god of that which Ain’t
But knowledge of Now rescues Can from can’t . . . So
No more sitting and waiting for the world to change
Spinning round and round in the same old game
The real game is on right now
Are you gonna watch or get, get, get in the Game
Free your mind and the rest will follow . . . So
Something is waiting to happen
It’s waiting on you
You will never figure it out before you begin
It will happen when you let it
Run, jump, try it, do it, you won’t long regret it . . . Just go on andFollow Plato's Groove on WordPress.com
6000 days. 18 some odd years. Almost 2 decades. How many hours? Somewhere around 144,000. There are almost 9,000,000 minutes and 520,000,000 seconds, each could be further broken down ad infinitum. But within the illusion of time’s structure and numbers are the moments. It is the moments which live, which are actual and within which Life flows. So often we pay attention to the frames within which we operate, marking success and failure with numbers. But paying to much attention to the numbers may result in missing the point/s, the moments.
For most of 6000 days I have been engaged in the lives of a mostly rural Alabama County, south of Birmingham. My official role was that of a Licensed Professional Counselor. I worked primarily with families filled with fear and pain. Trapped in repetitive negative generational patterns which reproduced abuse and neglect and tragedy passed on from parent to child. As a part of this work I interacted with the various systems which, made up of people, brought their own mixture of blessings and curses to the life of our community. The Courts, the Schools, the Churches, the Child Protection agencies, Law Enforcement, and members of the Bar, were roles and functions filled by individuals who brought their own unique mix of blessings and curses to the effort. And I brought mine. There has been terror and tragedy. Horrible grief, confusion, disillusionment, and unforeseen hope and exultation. Hundreds of millions of moments and interactions have produced the story of these last 6000 days. Recently the Judge who provided leadership for last 18 years has retired. I have worked with her for most of that. I have played my part as has she and the many others with whom we traveled. The retirement ceremony offered an opportunity to reflect upon the story of days, the story of our days together. What follows is my reflections upon the last 6000 days. While there will be others to follow I think it is important to place a maker here before I move on. I wonder who will write the story of the next 6000 days?
I read this to a crowd of well wishers and some hangers-on. It got very quiet and still, for a moment. 🙂
Moment by moment, filling the complete continuum, cacophony of emotion, thought, choice
Moments filled minutes, filled hours, filled days, filled these many years
Some moments noticed but many more passed unmarked
We each played our roles, seeking order out of chaos, right from wrong, a path through the brambles
Enforcers, defenders, adversaries, scribes, counselors, accountants, priests, and adjudicators
There has been both honor and betrayal, grace and justice, clarity and confusion along the way
Each Soul changed and revealed moment by moment, minute by minute, over these 6000 days
She led the band, and shaped its rhythms and rhymes, holding the banner to follow through the field
And our merry band of jesters and clowns followed the standard before us
Sometimes sprinting, sometimes limping we have moved through these 6000 days
We have known and have been known to each other
Over time our essence was revealed, roles cast aside at times for clarity’s sake
Humanity demanding more than form or structure, something real
Webs of trust and caution woven creating the pattern of Us beneath Her banner
We have known her as Judge, arbiter of the Law, yet there is more to see if one would but look
The role is temporary and shallow at its surface, soon to pass away
In my knowing of her I see her. I see Mother, Daughter, Sister, and Friend
She mothers and frets and chides and protects those who belong to her, on both sides of the Bar
She has mothered me
She is a daughter devoted, lovingly submitted to her calling and the demands of it
And as a daughter sought more to be wise than to be obeyed
She is a sister in understanding and empathy and care for those with whom she has traveled
Seldom revealed in the light of her role but guides all that she does
And she is friend, companion, and leader of our troop
Patron, backer, supporter, benefactor to us in ways both acknowledged and those unseen
And as you retire from the Role and retire into something new, we thank you for these 6000 days
You have led this rabble as well as we permitted and only now have occasion to stop and notice the balance of the many, many moments which we have all created together
And our most honorable Lady know that We are forever changed and made better for knowing You
I, we, respect the role but love the humanity of YouFollow Plato's Groove on WordPress.com
1-9-17 Workplay B’ham, Al Expansion Project. Was in a new much larger room. We did several but I didn’t hit record. New folks are showing up every week. We were talking about inviting other artists, dancers, etc., to join. The larger room would make that possible.
R- Dirty Laundry. It keeps on piling up.
Every day I bring it home, My dirty Laundry.
I talked to the preacher about my stains and how my praying just seems in vain.
Can’t seem to get away from my dirty laundry
I went to My Place to find relief. There were folks from the corner and in from the street.
There are those who have and those who have not. And we all keep hidden our sweet secret spots.
Some days are dirty and some days will shine. This day, that day they all are all mine.
Some days are dry and I can’t work up spit, and sometimes I laugh in spite of this shit.
But though I get tattered and torn and the veil of this house is weakened and worn.
I grit my teeth and set my face, I kick up my heals and pick up the pace.
But tonight I’m not going to worry bout no dirty laundry.Follow Plato's Groove on WordPress.com