Archive for the Letting Go Category

“Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi”… さようなら私の最愛の白い魔女 (Goodbye my beloved white witch)

Posted in Letting Go, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Poetry, Torch Song, Tsukimono-suji on April 20, 2020 by dreamlanddancing

Unclaimed Baggage



As the object of my affection,

You taught me the meaning

of loneliness

in ways I could never have

learned alone.



Like unclaimed baggage

in an airport carousel

endlessly going in circles

to nowhere in particular,

without validation or


my final destination


I await the hand that

never comes to claim me,

until only I remain.



For all the years

that I‘ve carried your burdens

while hoping you’d recover,

believing that only in completing you

could I ever be complete myself,

you now mistaken

the baggage for the burden.



“Who is dragging this corpse around?”

I scream.

“What have you done with my goddess again?”

I implore to the echoes

of the deafening silence…



“Sayonara Tsukimono Suji No Kimi”…


(Goodbye my beloved white witch)

whispers the wind in my ear.



As the echoes return

I find the answer.

“Fish swim with the tides

into and out of

the lagoon.”





Chazz Vincent




“Enlightenment is not the Eternal Kiss of True Love”


Sorry for the Inconvenience, Author under Deconstruction

Posted in Dancing in Dreamland, Letting Go, That was Zen, and this is Tao, The Liberation Through Hearing, This Thing we do with Words on January 9, 2019 by dreamlanddancing

Well, the good news is that I’m not dead….yet, or at least for now.

If you have, or used to follow my blog, you may have noticed my absence.

Or maybe not.

I don’t want to be too cryptic, but a little mystery can be good.

But no, I am not in jail, or fleeing prosecution (as far as I know), but it wouldn’t be too hard to find me if I was.

I also am not currently institutionalized in a psychiatric facility despite the fact that more than a few folks might be inclined to argue that it is there where I truly belong, (although the opinions of ex-wives should be taken with a very large amount of salt.)

And although right this minute, I am not at home, I am also not homeless.

But depending on the outcome, either I or my widow will make an announcement in the very near future.

See you in the funny papers.

Sayonara y’all…for now.


Nintai shite kudasai

(Patience please.)

Chazz Vincent




Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Letting Go, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on July 28, 2018 by dreamlanddancing


What do you do when you find yourself anesthetizing yourself against the discomfort of daily life?…the Pain of being Human?

It is the mantle we embraced when we traded our Instinct for Reason.

Whether it’s because of an unloving or narcissistic spouse, a job that seems to suck the life from you, disobedient or disrespectful children, indebtedness that threatens to drown you, or even writer’s block, the only person standing between you and your own happiness is you.

I used to work with someone who was constantly complaining about his wife; between alienation of affection, selfishness, and constant, nagging criticism, I often found myself vacillating between feeling pity and annoyance at the endless suffering he endured.

Then suddenly, he missed three days work. When he returned he looked more miserable than ever and later admitted had been drunk the entire time, despondent that his wife had left him.

“I don’t know what to do” he moaned.

“Be grateful” I offered.

“What?! he snapped. “I thought you were my friend…what kind of insensitive prick would say such a thing to anyone in my situation?”

“Let her go” I replied.

“I can’t…I love her too much” were the only words he could mange to choke out before he started to weep again.

As I recalled our previous conversations that inevitably centered around his misery, I found it would have been difficult not to laugh at his last remark, were it not for the compassion I felt for his suffering.

“Then be happy for her, and grateful that she won’t be spending all your money and cuckolding you any more.”

“But she says she’s in love with someone else.”

“Well, at least that would explain her behavior, and why she was such a bitch as she was to you… You should be glad; that also means she won’t be fucking up your next opportunity to be happy for once, and do whatever you want to do.”

“If she’s rally in love with someone else, she will leave you alone…Hell, when a cat gets bored with torturing a mouse, they usually kill it. If she has something new to take her attention away from her love of dominating and torturing you I’d say you got off easy.”

“She says I’ll never find anyone like her again, and I’m afraid she’s right.”

“Don’t be afraid…you should wish she’s right…make her put it in writing,”

“You know, you can be a real insensitive prick when you want to. Have no no feelings for my suffering?”

“What you don’t realize is that I have felt sorry for you for a very, very long time…don’t talk to me about suffering…you have made all your real friends suffer for far too long, watching your misery at the hands of that horrible bitch.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you were the one who taught her to treat you that way.”

“Well, you’re certainly right about that! I don’t want to hear about it…”

“Think about it…as long as she withheld acknowledgement of her satisfaction, she had power over you; so the more of a bitch she was, the harder you tried to please her, all the while ignoring your needs. You need someone who enjoys giving as much as receiving, if in fact you really NEED anybody as much as you did…be glad for your freedom.”

“But I love her too much to let her go.”

“That’s how you taught her to hate you…how can you respect anyone who lets themselves do what she has done to you?…tell me something, do you really love her…would you be willing do anything for her happiness?”


“Then let her go…in peace, so she doesn’t have any more excuses for hating you for making her feel guilty for being happy. You two could have been friends if you hadn’t made yourself so pathetic.”

Every hungry woman dreams of the whipping post…every slave embraces their collar.

Whether it’s your spouse, your job, your parents, your friends, or even your neighbors, there comes a time when you have to choose to not only recognize, but also accept the reality of your present circumstances.

Most people do not. They may complain, but not usually to anyone who might have the ability to change anything. They may practice some sort of sullen, resentful non-compliance or argue and criticize, but they rarely take action, speak up, or leave.

There is always an excuse that they claim prevents them from doing so, but more accurately, it allows them to continue to wallow in the interlocking series of lies and self-deceptions that constitute the fabric of the eternal suffering that provides them with their identity.

Each of our lives contains an essential enigma; a paradox so central to our being that if we could even recognize it, we might be closer to resolving it.

Suffering is an inevitable quotient of life, but denial and self-deception prevent us from realizing the wisdom needed to find the acceptance and surrender that can lead us to true freedom.  

And that excuse is at the very heart of their problem, which is inevitably unsolvable because of the fact that it has to be, because without it, there would be nothing to prevent them from facing the Great Existential Void.

And whether it’s drugs, or alcohol, or even meditation, they wallow in whatever it is that will prevent them from facing the enigma that lies at the heart of their existence.

It has been with them from the beginning of time, long before their parents’ parents were born; it is what keeps bringing them back.

Lifetime after lifetime.






Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei.

Sukina Bava.



Chazz Vincent



Jealousy is a Three-Headed Dragon

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Letting Go, Love, Much Too Good For Children, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist on March 1, 2017 by dreamlanddancing


One head is Fear.

One head is Envy.

The Third is mis-directed Anger.

The teeth and claws of this monster drip with venom and the blood of its victims, whose hearts are ripped from their chests and greedily consumed.

Its voracious appetite is never slaked.

Its body is the cumulative social conditioning of Society in its discontent, Religion, selfishness, and bad advice from the truly ignorant who have no business giving it; the ones who missed the boat, and continue to create self-fulfilling prophecies while shouting from the docks, condemned to “lives of quiet desperation”, afraid to loose something even they don’t really want.

There can be no denying that witnessing desire, attraction, or even outright lust spilling from our significant others generates a maelstrom of emotions, and feelings that can overwhelm those not prepared to tame the Dragon and make it their pet.

Compersion is the sexual alchemy that can transform the most mind-numbing, soul-killing complex emotion mankind knows into  a process that will energize and embolden an individual into an adventurous and fearless seeker of the truth.

I recently heard a respected therapist state that instead of seeking the perfect mate, one should strive to be the perfect mate.

Although there is a great deal of truth to this concept, I have reservations about it generating several dangerous misconceptions.

There was a time that I believed that my salvation would come by way of enlightening my most significant other.

It wasn’t bad enough that I sought to achieve enlightenment; (something that cannot be gained through its pursuit), but I had the audacity to believe I could somehow impart this condition onto another by way of teaching by example.

It doesn’t take long before an afflicted individual recognizes the power inherent in their disfunction.

Eventually you discover they are always in pain, always unhappy and never satisfied; in fact their moodiness, anger and self-pity empowers them and enslaves those who love them because they keep trying, thinking that somehow, if they do whatever they are doing just a little differently, maybe then they can be happy together.

This is of course, true madness; they recognize that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results are the alternate definitions of both insanity and addition, but they do not see that the basic fatal flaw is not in what they do but rather in their choice of for whom they do it.

They seek an equal, while the object of their affections seeks power.

In this way, the desire they foster within themselves for what they think is Love will condemn them to endless suffering.

Have you so little self-esteem that you would allow yourself to be manipulated in this way?

You can love them more by attempting to possess them less.

If they love you back, OK.

If they don’t, you will still be OK.

These are not simply words that you repeat to yourself until you get want you want…you have to drop your resistance to whatever your present circumstances are, so that you can feel love regardless of whether it it is returned or not.

It is so much easier to love others fearlessly if you learn to love yourself first, just as you cannot really learn to forgive others until you learn to forgive yourself.

Will you feel sorrow if they withhold love from you? Of course, but there is great beauty in sorrow, and it will deepen your appreciation of those who love you freely, unconditionally, and without reservation.

And be sure that once you liberate yourself from the neediness and addictive groveling in which you wallow as long as you are a slave to love, the inner calm and sense of self-assurance devoid of false bravado or pretense naturally attracts others who can stand eye-to-eye with you as equals.

If you experience even one day in love with your equal, “to be the idol of your own idol is to steal fire from the gods.” It is an experience of immortality in the face of death, and the quantum of ecstasy which can neither be created nor destroyed.

Because it exists independently of time, once it is known, no one can take that from you…not even them.

Everything else is just junk food for the soul.

That kind of love is not capable of jealousy, nor is it manipulated by it.

Those who would in their ignorance attempt to manipulate you with jealousy will soon either be driven by their own inner instincts to learn from you, or they will eliminate themselves from your sphere of influence, and in so doing, grant you a favor that you do not have to request to get.

It all simply comes and goes by itself.

If you can be that kind of perfect mate eventually everything that you desire will come to you, like a cat that shuns you until you start to read the newspaper.

You cannot make the perfect mate by being the perfect mate; all you can hope to do is simply be your true self here and now.

Devoid of pretense, prejudice, illusion, mythology, social conditioning or fear, Here and Now free you of any impatience.

Everything is exactly as it should be.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei 


(Goodbye, Master of Despair)



Chazz Vincent


An Open Letter to all the Women in my Life who Loved me and Lived to Regret it

Posted in Acknowledgement, Crazy Zen Wisdom, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Letting Go, Love on September 7, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

I hope I was the worst mistake you ever made in your life.

I say that  as both  a blessing and a sincere wish.

That means you lived through it and if it indeed was your worst mistake that means you learned from it, and your life is better now.

Even if it was for the best that we went our separate ways I sincerely believe that it is never wrong to tell someone “I love you” and you were far, far from the worst mistake I ever made.

Baraka Bashad.

Blessings Be.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei .


Chazz Vincent








On Letting Go, Part XI: Blame and Excuses

Posted in adversity, Letting Go, LONGREAD, Sapience, Sentience with tags on October 10, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

We judge others by their actions, but we judge ourselves by our intentions.

How many people do you know who would describe themselves as satisfied in terms of their lives?

The paradigm that seems to drive many people’s lives is “One’s grasp should exceed their reach.”

I am no stranger to the concept, but I have seriously marred some of the best stages or phases of my life due to my inability to remember to smell the roses while I am still in the garden.

No matter what I am in the midst of doing or trying to achieve, I am infused with this sense of Angst and Frustration because I find it very difficult to enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done…because it will never be quite perfectly executed….and because there’s always more….

I have a way of focusing too much attention on some real or perceived hidden flaw or imperfection in my work, or the tapestry of my life as a film noire.

For as long as I can remember, it has been my artistic expressions, whether in Music, Art. Photography, Film, Video, Multi-Media, or Writing that have been the driving force in my life, my purpose…my raison d’être.


To me, the activities of daily living are more like watching the Dead doing the St. Vitus Dance to waves of endorphins and polypeptides.

My Love and Sex lives reflect the same preoccupation with artistic, philosophical and creative expression…(needless to say, often to the chagrin of those who aspire to love and understand me).

My attention seems forever drawn to what could be somewhere over the next hill.

Yet years later it will seem like a grand romantic adventure to which I wish I could return…so why am I so unhappy?

Many years ago, a very dear lifetime friend said “I sometimes think that even on the clearest and most perfect days, your attention will be drawn to a dark cloud off on the horizon, saying ‘…eventually, we are going to have to deal with that…’ “.

At the time, I took it as a compliment to my foresight and vision.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized that she was lamenting on how I could ruin a moment of bliss with pessimism and negativity.

I have known her almost all of my adult life. We started as lovers but her lifelong friendship is unique to my life experiences with the exception of my wife. Only one other female relationship (or marriage) has ever lasted for more than six years.

She is the most successful person I know, and seems to possess a quiet satisfaction that I envy, despite the fact that she is no stranger to tragedy or disappointment.

…But back to the original point.

Several decades ago, I found myself proclaiming that I felt that it was time to get serious about my life and make something of myself, and perhaps achieve the satisfaction of artistic and financial success, a vow I seem to be compelled to renew every few years.

Money comes, money goes; jobs come and jobs go, but the work of one’s life remains. For me, my Art is my Life.

With the exception of my current compulsion for writing, my creative life has been in a flat spiral ever since I became preoccupied by some measure of financial security (which was almost completely fear-based). It has left me broke and nearly despondent at times.

(Just as it seems as if the digressions will never end, the snake bites its own tail…the Uroburos returns….)

Although I have been frequently led astray by others, and distracted from my real or imagined goals and dreams, their part in the failed processes was minor, compared to my own incredibly bad judgment.

There is a word for sound judgment, and it is referred to as Sapience. It is the cognate from which the term homo sapiens is derived.

Without it, we are just a bunch of Talking Monkeys, and I am their spokesperson.

Whenever I find myself beset by “…a sea of troubles…” and contemplating how to “…put an end to them…”, I meditate.

This last time around, my focus was on “Who am I?…”Who is asking this question?”

I am the one who is tired of singing only torch songs.

I am the one who is tired of settling for less.

I am the one who is tired of doing things I do not love to do.

I am the one who is tired of withholding my candor to simply keep the peace I never seem to find anyway.

I am the one who is tired of not being myself, or not trusting the results of my own actions to take me where they will. Better to die gloriously in battle, roaring like a lion than to be led whimpering like a lamb to slaughter.

I am the one who vows to embrace the results.

If I blame anyone else for the dissatisfaction I feel, I am once again relinquishing control over my life. It is only in accepting responsibility for my present condition that I can exercise some degree of self-determination.

Excuse-mongering and blame are like a co-dependent dysfunctional couple who never seem to be able to stop making excuses for themselves and blaming each other for their own misery.

Next time you feel defensive and find yourself declaring that something was not your fault, better think again….

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, charted by unrealistic expectations and lined with lame excuses.

The I in Failure comes well before the U.

Of course it is always your own fault ultimately, whether it be a failed marriage, a career, or your dreams, but there are so many factors (aside from poor judgment) beyond your control from which there is No Escape that we might as well learn as early as possible to view our lives with enough Loving-Kindness and Acceptance to learn from our mistakes and move on to make new mistakes as we learn to forgive so we can forgive to learn.

However…when I was a rescue paramedic, more than once I heard statements like:

“There I was, just standing there minding my own business (in a bar, or on a street corner in Ft. Lauderdale or Key West)…and from out of nowhere, this guy comes up and….”


“I was trying to reach the top shelf, but the chair wasn’t quite high enough, so I stacked a couple telephone books on top of each other and suddenly…”


“No I dont want to press charges…he was just drunk…I know he loves me and he’s the father of two of my children, and I got no place else to go…it was my fault for nagging him about losing his job…” (for being drunk) “…and I don’t work…because…and….”

Who hasn’t heard: “I just have so much love to give…I can’t understand why I am so alone.”

(Much of it is not beyond our control.)

I’ve heard it said that at least seventy-five per cent of what happens to us is random; whether you were born a Kennedy or an orphan in Calcutta is beyond your control, but it is what you do with the other twenty-five per cent that determines what will become of each of us.

I have a strong suspicion that it is our past and present Karma that determines the first seventy-five per cent. We just don’t recognize the connection.

The dog chases the bone.

It is said that the elephant is the only animal that can remember all of his past lives, and stands alone contemplating his Karma.

There are no good excuses, and blame is what distracts us from that realization. It is the difference between fault-finding and trouble-shooting.

The sooner you learn to forgive yourself, the easier it is to forgive others and accept responsibility for your life and your condition.

You don’t have to be kind, but you don’t have to be cruel either.

Just be real.




Chazz Vincent






On Letting Go, Part X: Our Children, Our Parents

Posted in Letting Go, N o Escape on September 16, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

On Letting Go, Part X: Our Children, Our Parents

For those who aspire to pursue Authenticity within our lives we are faced with the daunting task of first losing our attachments to the Illusions of Life, as well as finding acceptance of the inevitabilities of what it means to be alive.

We will be born and we will die. From this there is No Escape.

We have no control over when or where we will be born. We have little control over how we will be raised, at least up to a point long past our accumulation of Primal Experiences.

We may or may not even know our parents. For some not knowing might be a blessing compared to what and how we were treated as children, but good or bad, well-intentioned or not it will at least initially shape how we view the world and how we behave within the course of our lives.

Even the best, most well-intentioned parents may pass on a legacy of lies and illusions that reflect their own childhood inheritances. Many will vow to not repeat those mistakes, only to adopt a different set of paucities, prejudices, and failed intentions to which they will subject their own offspring.

It is not a given that we will birth or raise children of our own, but if we do, whether it is by choice or accident, as we stretch like pearls on a string skewered along our accumulated heritage, we have the opportunity to recognize our connection, realizing that for good or ill, it has shaped our past and will influence our future.

My grandfather used to say “We all serve a purpose on this earth, even if it is only to serve as the horrible example.”

We have all read countless tales of how unfortunate, cruel or disadvantaged childhoods seemed to catapult certain individuals into fame, fortune or notoriety, but few of them had joyful outcomes in terms of their own personal realizations of happiness.

Perhaps they were just reacting.

This much is certain: we will be born. As we become adults, we may move away from our parents, or we may feel that we are prisoners of their lives. Some will leave as early as possible, others may stay close while maintaining their independence. Some may never return. Some may go as far away as possible, or somewhere in-between.

Both of my parents as well as my younger brother have died within the last four years.

My two older sons are living their own lives and are reasonably close to home. We see each other on a fairly regular basis. My youngest left for Army boot camp three weeks ago and is in training over five hundred miles away. By November, he will be in Colorado for almost a year of additional training before shipping out for parts as yet unknown.

Less than four days after graduating from college, I moved over nine hundred miles from my parents’ home. For months at a time, they did not even know my whereabouts, or how to contact me.

Our two older sons contact us on a regular basis and we always get together on holidays and special occasions. One lives less than ten miles away with his fiancée, and works full-time while going to school at night.

We visit two or three times a month, and yet I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest for not seeing each other more often. It’s not his fault or mine. He is just young and full of ambition. We talk about going into business together someday.

When I reflect on the years that I was estranged from my parents, it is only now that I begin to grasp the pain they must have felt and I am consumed with gratitude that my own children have not shunned me as I did my parents.

Then again, I did not routinely beat, verbally or emotionally abuse my children.

My relationship with my parents was difficult and complex. My father was an abusive, overbearing workaholic and a philanderer. He was a brilliant scientist with expertise and degrees in numerous diverse fields.

I idolized him, and spent most of my life trying to gain his approval and recognition.

My mother was a nurse. We were “latchkey” kids with a television for a baby-sitter and homework and chores to keep us busy enough to stay out of trouble…at least for awhile….

We all lived in the shadow of my father, yet because my mother was educated and pursued a career of her own in addition to providing a nurturant environment within our household, I viewed women as strong and smart collaborators, rather than subservient “housewives”.

I am grateful for that.

My father often left for work before I was awakened to go to school, and came home long after I had gone to bed. I often went months without seeing him awake, except sometimes over the weekends.

They were loving and well-intentioned, but incredibly misguided. We were the first generation of nuclear families who had been separated from their extended families by distance, ambition and wanderlust.

They had no role models to emulate, no paradigms to govern their actions or decisions. Child psychology was in its infancy.

Their parents were loving, but stern and violent disciplinarians who espoused such adages as “Spare the rod and spoil the child” who were not adverse to slapping the face of a child who was insubordinate enough to speak out of turn or disrespectfully.

My parents largely followed their lead, despite the fact that they believed themselves to be less draconian or authoritarian than their parents.

And yet, at times when my grandparents were around, they were the first to intercede on our behalf, having been afforded the perspective of time and wisdom that they themselves apparently did not possess during their own parenting years.

As I have grown older, I have come to recognize more and more times that I would swear I could see remarkable physical resemblances to my father within myself that were not so apparent in my youth.

At first, I was alarmed and appalled. I came to recognize that I had come to regard him as an opponent and I resented the resemblances.

For three years, while pursuing a career change, I moved my family and myself back into their home. They were thrilled. I rebuilt two automobiles for them and helped with numerous repairs to their one-hundred and thirty-year-old house. I acquired an amateur radio operator’s license, like my father and grandfather. My youngest son was born there. They had the opportunity to really get to know my wife and children.

The prodigal son had returned.

Familiarity has a distinct tendency to breed contempt however. The longer we were there under their roof, the quicker they became to criticize how we spent our money or the nature of some of our more free-spirited social interactions.

(We never divulged or discussed that we were occasional “swingers”, or recreational drug users, but we lived close to a small-town sort of city, and our associates as well as the clubs we frequented had no small degree of notoriety, which seemed to be a source of disquietude to them.)

They resented the money we spent on the cars we drove.

When I located employment back in Florida I sensed that they felt a mixture of sadness and relief. It was time to go.

Each summer, our children went out to visit them for a month.

I few years before my father died, I brought my family to my parents’ home for a week to spend time together. It was a thoroughly enjoyable time during which we all acknowledged our love and made numerous confessions and apologies to each other.

It was a time of Satsang. We were able to view each other as human beings, rather than projecting expectations of who or what we were supposed to be, or what we expected of each other. It was a time of forgiveness and reconciliation.

After that we spoke every Sunday on the telephone.

Since their deaths, I have become increasingly aware of a feeling of their presence, almost as if one of them had lain a hand upon my shoulder. We saved a number of items that we very special to them and brought them into our home. Sometimes I could swear I see them standing there out of the corner of my eye. It is comforting.

The struggle for autonomy is over.

Although I don’t believe in a God or his angels, I do believe in disembodied spirits.

They meant well and loved us dearly. I grew up faster than they expected and left before they really had the chance to savor how precious my time with them had been.

I started a family relatively late in my life, and greatly desired to be a father and raise children. I was very participatory and involved in my role as a parent. I watched every step of my children’s developmental stages and availed myself of every bit of knowledge I could get to nurture, support and celebrate their lives.

Although it was exhausting during their infancy and early years, by the time they were housebroken I felt like I had been given a chance to catch my breath long enough to appreciate them in ways I never anticipated…these tiny living people…with minds and spirits of their own….

They were a part of me, and yet they were something new and unique in and of themselves. They needed me and depended upon me for everything.

They were like ripples in a still pond…reflecting me and yet already moving away.

I talked to and with them even before they could speak and listened to them as soon as they could.

As fascinated as I was, I was amazed by how gratifying it was when then began to emerge as separate and discrete personalities.

From about eight years of age on, as their unmistakable personalities began to emerge, they seemed less like dependent babies and more like young people. We began to do things together while they presented themselves as interesting and unique beings, rather than mere extensions of my or my wife’s ego.

We were all jointly involved in the activities of mutually supporting ourselves as a family.

Soon they were helping me, sharing the responsibilities and work of our lives.

…And then, they grew up.

Ten thousand tomorrows pass like water under a bridge without our notice.

PS: Shortly after the start of my writing of this post, we were informed of the date of my youngest son’s graduation from boot camp next month.

My personal vehicles are not currently up to the task of transporting us for such a long distance and my beloved twenty-year old 300ZX was hit while parked in front of our house and will require extensive repairs.

The insurance check proved to be a timely windfall.

We contemplated the pros and cons of airplane travel and a rental car, a train, or even a bus to attend the graduation ceremonies, as well as lodging. It would be expensive in any case, but not attending was not an option for us.

My middle son owns a very “nicely appointed” Chevy Tahoe that we have borrowed before. It is the perfect vehicle for road trips such as this.

He needs a new set of tires. He does not have the money right now to replace them. We decided to use the money for the trip to buy them.

Last night, my eldest son suddenly called to say he wanted to go with us to attend the graduation, and offered to cover all our other expenses like fuel, rooms and meals. He had been the “wild card” in our family for quite some time.

He said he saw this as an opportunity to express his gratitude for the love and patience we have given him all these years.

As we circle the wagons in time of need, I am reminded of the image of the Uroboros, the snake that eats its own tail.

None of us needed to ask the other for help. It was feely offered as each of us saw the opportunity. We are connected by not only our needs, but also in our mutual abilities to fill them for each other.

I am filled with gratitude and as I am reminded of how blessed I am of the timely return of Kharma for all of us by the Dharma Action that was set in motion so many years ago.

All things return to the One.

Baraka Bashad.



Chazz Vincent






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licensed to cunt

Book 'Em, Jan O

Ghosts, Tall Tales & Witty Haiku!





$o Close But Yet So Far Away


simple Ula

I want to be rich. Rich in love, rich in health, rich in laughter, rich in adventure and rich in knowledge. You?

NSP's Tales

~ Poems,Novels and Life Events..

❣Emotional Queen👑

🎭दो चेहरें हैं,दो लहज़े हैं मेरे...और हर सवाल के दो जवाब "एक मैं जो लिखती हूँ दूजा तुम जो जानते हो"!! 👑Queen Of My Own Thought❣ #MyBlogMyFeeling

Death, The Life Story

Tracing a life through stories of death. Sometimes funny, sometimes not.

Chaotic Shapes

Art and Lifestyle by Brandon Knoll

Masturbation Monday

Where getting off is half the fun...

Lyfes Poetry

BLog Hard Or Go Home

stormy musings

Whatever, whenever

Nature Art

Photography, Creative Writing & Art by SAJIA AFRIN

Broken roads of Destiny

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou

An Obvious Oblivion Blog

🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃


Telling it as it is since 2013 - Living in Edinburgh, Scotland as a single Dad to 2 little Girls, trying to live with Agoraphobia, Osteoporosis, Psychosis, M.E (Chronic Fatigue), PTSD and Fibromyalgia - "Life is Hard, don't make it worse" - Enjoy the Journey with me, follow me, and I will follow back. Thanks 😁 Shauny

Blog Femme & Infos

Anita Blogue


daily life in a family of 8.....

Felicity Johns

This site is rated for MA audiences only.

Peri şair karanfilli

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