The Unclad Soul

In my sleep, I was visited by a man in a flannel shirt with autumn colors in small squares. He wore a solid brown necktie unloosed at the collar. His hair was white and bushy, sort of like Einstein’s. He smoked a pipe and had the voice of Gandalf, Ian McKellen’s great character in The Lord of the Rings. There was nothing menacing or alarming about his presence. He spoke softly, quietly. His face was rugged and carried deep lines of age and wisdom.  His eyes, blue and intense, were nevertheless warm with soft light in them. He reminded me of my maternal grandfather whom I called Pop, a big loving man with a deep Southern drawl. I told the gentleman this and he said, “You can call me Pop if you want.” I said, “Ok.” “What troubles you?” he asked, as he put fresh tobacco in his pipe and lit it. It smelled of cherries or cloves or something sweet and delicious. “I wonder if I got it all wrong,” I said. “How so; got what wrong?” “People. Life. Meaning,” I said, a...

“It is impossible to escape the impression that people commonly use false standards of measurement: that they seek power, success and wealth for themselves and admire them in others, and that they underestimate what is of true value in life.”  ~ Sigmund Freud

“The truly educated become conscious. They become self-aware. They do not lie to themselves. Thought is a dialogue with one’s inner self. Those who think ask questions, questions those in authority do not want asked. They remember who we are, where we come from and where we should go. They remain eternally skeptical and distrustful of power. And they know that this moral independence is the only protection from the radical evil that results from collective unconsciousness. The capacity to think is the only bulwark against any centralized authority that seeks to impose mindless obedience. There is a huge difference, as  Socrates  understood, between teaching people what to think and teaching them how to think.”  ~ Chris Hedges, Author/Journalist

“There is always something left to love. And if you ain't learned that, you ain't learned nothing.” ~ Mama, in Lorraine Hansberry’s, “A Raisin in the Sun”

Someone on Facebook recently suggested, in a post comment, that I was not voting for Hillary Clinton because I may be afraid of strong women. The person does not know me and I have never met her. She made her comment to a friend of mine on his post in response to something I had said about Clinton. Anyone who actually knows me knows how wrong that comment is. And it’s irritating that many people seem to think if you don’t vote for Hillary you either hate her or you are afraid of women. Even if you denounce Trump, as I have done again and again, and say you aren’t voting for him, as I have said, you’re still suspect. The notion that if you’re not voting for Hillary something must be wrong with you and you have some kind of issue with women, is simply shortsighted and wrong. I have long supported the rights of women, blacks, gays, immigrants, veterans, and others who are often left out of any real discussion about equal rights, justice, and respect for them from the government a...

There is no question that Donald Trump is outmatched by Hillary Clinton. And why not? She’s been at this her entire adult life. She knows every political trick in the book and she masterfully applies them against him. He blunders along, in his street fighting mode, and he ends up being crude and bullying. Just what Hillary wants. She baits him and eggs him on and when he unloads his amateurish remarks she retaliates with polished, clever, adroit come backs. She has teams of writers and advisers, and of course Bill, who love this whole thing. They salivate over this stuff. It’s a game, a fun, exhilarating game to them. It’s a challenge for them to see just how ingenious they can be in turning Trump into a complete fool. And so far, it has worked perfectly. He of course plays along, having apparently no idea just how stupid they make him look, and how stupid he actually may be. He has no self-awareness. No understanding of what is actually going on. No game plan. No insight. No bigg...

I went down to the memory lane And walked alone along the hazy trail I saw my boyhood and the dogs I owned And the field down the street where I played ball On hot summer days with my friends I walked into my grandparent’s house The little place a few blocks away Where love reigned and the hugs would never end And I felt a worth I’ve not since known I saw the art class in junior high Where I built a sculpture out of tiles A cathedral with a golden steeple That my mom kept for years in our home I waved at the girl I kissed under the bleachers At the football game in the high school stadium And she smiled at me like she did long ago And I remembered how sweet life was How easy the days all seemed to flow I drove my first car to the Dairy Queen And sat and watched the kids all come and go Their laughter was real and their faces beamed With innocence that now has disappeared From the faces of so many kids I know I sat in church and h...