To a Funeral

The train car was empty for most of the trip to Moncton. I sat with my face against the window, watching my hot breath create a patch of steam contrasting the bitter cold outside. An automated voice would wake me in increments of time. Reminding me that a machine I obsessed over as a child was on two sets of steel rails pulling my journey forward. I would catch glimpses of my reflection against the dark outside and my eyes looked complacent. This was all too familiar, but the chapter it was happening in felt devoid of reality. It felt sullen and nostalgic like Joni Mitchell singing about it being in her blood like holy wine. I could hear the guitar, and I could hear the words in my mind. This is why I was on the train, and this was why I was compelled to a place I never knew in this life. Compelled to bring a satchel, my guitar, and some cash if I should need it.

My heart was aching as I scanned the car and my surroundings. The light that came from my chest felt dimmed. The aching grew into a chill that spread from the center of my body, over my shoulders, and down my back. Taking deep breaths and reminding myself that I chose to be here, and I chose to do it alone was all I could muster. Slowly, Taking deep breaths and looking at the back of the woman’s head on the opposite end of the train. Short silver curls, resting on top of pale white skin. Nestled on a thin neck, wrapped in a scarf and wool coat. Just as many before her, she rode the train like a sentinel, looking forward and never meeting my gaze. I returned to my breathing exercises. Gently, conjuring happy trees and magical places in my consciousness. Was I having a panic attack, or was it the claustrophobic air in the train finally doing me in? How could I feel trapped in here? Physically, there were only two whole bodies in this train car, including myself. Gradually, inhaling and exhaling I began to find a steady calm, and I knew I could embrace slumber.

Dusk had settled a cool blanket upon the earth, and I could sense it all around me. My eyes were heavy as I wedged my face between the seat cushion and the glass. The humming of the engine, and the constant vibration of the locomotive hushed me to sleep. Little movies and images began to play on the back of my eyelids. There were flashes of faces, geometric silhouettes, and black puffs of smoke. There were startling and sudden changes in mood. Accompanied by rivers of blood with bones cascading from a mountain, and the sound of people weeping. My attempts to close my eyes, look away, find my body, and regain some semblance of reality were growing harder to accomplish. That was when I hit my face against the glass and was jolted awake by the hand on my shoulder. Or did the hand hit my face and the vulgar sounds in my ears follow? There was a declaration being made, forcibly waking me like a splash of frigid water. Her mouth was moving, and it finally registered that she was screaming,” FIRE!”

With her hand on my shoulder, and her dead eyes looking into mine, the chill I had before I fell asleep returned. Dread and fear took hold of me, and all I could do was stare blankly into her mouth and watch her lips move, and bits of spittle land on her chin as she shook me and kept declaring,” FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” Her hand released from me, and she quickly turned around and pointed a bony finger to the end of the car. My eyes followed her every move as if in slow motion. I traced my vision along her shoulder, over her wool collar, down her knitted scarf, past her elbow, to her hand, and then past her pointing index finger.

At the end of the car was a flashing red light above a sign that read, “DO NOT PULL THE EMERGENCY CORD. NOTIFY TRAIN CREW IMMEDIATELY. IF POSSIBLE, MOVE TO ANOTHER CAR THROUGH INTERIOR DOORS. REMAIN INSIDE- TRACKS ARE ELECTRIFIED. FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS FROM TRAIN CREW AND EMERGENCY WORKERS.” What the hell happened? How long had I been sleeping? The woman was rigid as she focused her attention on the light and the flashing sign. Ambivalent, I looked back and forth between her and the alarm quite a few times before I could feel my legs and stand. The train appeared to still be in motion, and I held onto the seat as I walked out into the aisle with the panicked old woman. I placed my hands very softly on her shoulders and she jumped, but she looked into my eyes and smiled. I asked her,” would you like to sit down while I try to see what is going on?” If she spoke English, or spoke at all I could not be certain. Her smile just grew into a Cheshire grin, and she complied with my body language.  As she sat she adjusted the small wrinkles in her coat, and tied her scarf into a tighter knot. Her gaze never met mine again, because she closed her eyes, and leaned back into the seat as I walked away from her. I looked back at the alarm and took one step toward it when a muffled pop caused me to turn around. I was only three feet or so from the door to the car that had been behind me on this trip. However, I could not see the interior lights through the door window. At this moment, I felt the goose bumps raise so high off my skin it felt like tiny needles all over my body.

What did I just see through the door? I was trying to ignore the strange sensations that were going through my body so I could regain my composure and rationalize what I had just witnessed. I took a deep breath, and replayed the moment as I looked through the window. I saw three sparks of light encased by opaque darkness. Then a flash of bright fire, and what appeared to be a rolling piece of metal. It was rolling and bouncing, and veering to one side of my sight and disappeared into the void. Did I see human faces or just hear screams? That was when I realized the sleeper car behind us had detached from the tracks and flipped over and over again. The flashes of light and color were the bodies and the luggage and debris in Technicolor as the fire consumed them. That was the muffled pop of the cable release, and the sparks of the chains and wheels deploying. The grating metal and twisting frame exploded onto the tracks, and into the tundra we were barreling through.

My heart was aching again. My heart was thumping in my ears and I could no longer hear the alarm, and I could not keep my eyes open. I felt my body sway and dip, and I collapsed to my knees and landed on all fours trying to collect myself. I began to focus on my breathing, and I allowed myself to melt into the floor. Rolling onto my back, I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling of the train car. My breathing began to slow, but my heart was still racing from the adrenalin. Staring at the ceiling, I sat up, and looked right at the alarm on the wall in front of me. Reaching for the seats nearby, pulling my body onto my feet, and wobbling back onto my legs. I began to walk forward while looking down at my boots and seeing where they had been scuffed over time. It drummed up memories of my grandfather and where he walked in them. How many steps did he take in them, and where did they lead him on his path in life? Then I remembered that I was not alone, and I was in the car with the old woman.

 My eyes darted ahead to where I had left her, but she was gone. Perhaps she was lying down across the seats? I tripped and folded forward, sprawling out in the aisle. When I landed, my head was in line with where she had been sitting. Her coat was neatly folded under her scarf, and her shoes were in the seat next to it. I touched them to make sure what I was witnessing was real, and indeed it was. Her clothes were intact, but her body was missing. The aching and the cold began to creep over me again, and I could not find comfort in taking deep breaths. I could not find solace in going to my happy place. A train full of people behind me was erased from existence, and a woman in my car had vanished into thin air. I moved her belongings over to the window seat, and I sat down where she had been.

Looking around the car, trying to gain perspective into where she could have gone. I sat there in a stupor. Completely baffled at the series of events that had unfolded out of my control. This trip was supposed to help me find myself. I was only here because going by myself seemed like the best option. As I mulled through the thoughts that had come before I departed, I began to feel a deep sense of regret and absolute terror overtake me. My brain was folding into itself and all of my yogic ideologies were failing me. The sheer trauma of what was occurring left me incapable of finding my thoughts, and rationalizing what I should do next. So, I sat there, and I cried. I fucking cried until I asked myself out loud,” What the hell are you sitting here for? You need to get the hell out of here before something else happens!” It was in that moment that I knew I had lost my mind, but I had regained my survivalist defense. I left the seat, and the old woman’s belongings, and I walked toward the flashing alarm.

Apprehensively, I took meager steps toward it. The fear was suffocating me, and I was waiting for another explosion, or another crazy person to scream fire and appear from nowhere. The thought also crossed my mind that perhaps as I moved up the train car, that somewhere, I would see the old woman. I would see her naked and dead in between the seats. She would still have her eyes open with a look of terror frozen on her face. I closed my eyes and shook this image from my mind. I shook it quite aggressively, and allowed my body to carry me forward toward the alarm that was flashing. The audible sound that it made had stopped somewhere in between the explosion and the old woman’s disappearance. Now it was just an obstinate red beacon, bathing me in its light. I was an arm’s length away from the door when I felt prickling hot breath behind my right ear. The lights went out, and the train slammed to a stop.

The sudden change in motion caused me to fly forward at an unforgiving speed. I hit my shoulder and the side of my face on the metal cabin wall. A warmth flowed down my face, and I knew I was bleeding from the impact. I could only embrace the next few moments that happened since I had no control of my body or my conscious mind. The red spinning light of the alarm was going in several directions, but it appeared to be up, then down, and then it spun backward and grew brighter. I saw other flashes of things like metal, glass, and my boots over my head, and my hands hitting my face, and then my body slamming into a train seat. Then I was above everything, and then I was next to the window. The car was rolling, and I was a ragdoll suspended in time. There was a loud crack, and I felt a pinch in my chest close to my heart. My ribs were clawing at my lungs, and cutting up my insides. I felt the cold chill I had before, along with warmth inside my body that I had not experienced. I was internally bleeding, and being thrown around the cabin of locomotive.

It all stopped, and I wheezed in the darkness of this experience. I could feel my lungs filling up with fluid, as I lay arched over the back of a bench. The train was upright, but it was no longer moving. Moonlight spilled into the car, and I could hear the cold biting wind from the Appalachians. My body was cold, but my blood was warm as it pooled onto my face, and out of my flesh. I was dying. I was dying alone in a train that was supposed to be taking me to a funeral. One of my eyes was swollen shut, but I could still see out of the other. I looked all around me, trying to get my bearings. I could tell that my body was folded awkwardly across the bench. My chin was in my chest, and my legs were out of my line of sight. Perhaps my back was broken, and I was paralyzed. All I felt was cold when I tried to move my toes inside of my grandfather’s boots. The wheezing of my breath began to slow, and I could feel the last bits of my life leaving my body.

Then I saw her face. I was sure I saw it in my mind first, but then I saw it with the one good eye I still had left to use. The old woman… She was floating over me, or appeared to be. She was just smiling, and looking at me with her wisps of curly white hair and blank expression. I was relieved, but internally terrified of her as her face slowly crept closer to mine. Her smile never dissipated, and her eyes grew softer as she came nearer to me. I felt pins and needles all through my body, and then I felt popping and more warmth spread across my chest. I was no longer breathing physical air. My lungs had collapsed, and I was incapable of taking the vital oxygen I needed. The old woman was above me, and she put her cheek against my face. My heart grew cold, and my mind raced to moments of my life with my grandmother. If I could have smiled I would have, but my face was pallid and frozen. It was in this lapse of time that I knew I was to meet my end, and the old woman was the comfort of death carrying me away.

Death moved her face over my lips and drew in a deep breath. The cold went away, and all of the memories faded with it. This is the bliss of atonement. There were no broken bones and swollen eyes. I could not feel the terror or the pain from what I had experienced any more. As she took in more air over my mouth, I felt myself being released from the shell my spirit was housed in. Weightless. Formless. Ethereal. I could still feel my heart, but could find no physical trace of it. My conscious mind was alert and expanding, but there was no skull for it to be encased in. I was evolving into the beyond, and the eyes of death said without words,” This is why you are here.”

Snapping awake to the electronic voice proclaiming, “You have arrived in Moncton” I sleepily rubbed my eyes and looked over to the empty seat next to me. In it, folded neatly was the knitted scarf of the old woman. My eyes looked forward to her seat, but she was not there. Reaching over, I touched the fibers, and ran my fingers over it and smiled. I collected my belongings around me, and waiting outside the train for my luggage with the other passengers. I remembered some of their faces, but realized it was odd to recognize them, because I had never actually looked at them while I was awake. My thoughts shifted to the journey I still had ahead of me. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and acknowledged the experience in my heart. I had been through hell and back. I wasn’t going to let a bad dream ruin my trip. Even if I was going to a funeral. At least it was not my own…This is why you are all here.

To live.

To Love Me

If I found someone who loved me.

I'd make them love me better.

They'd tell of past loved ones.

"I wish you would have met her."



If I found someone who needed me.

They wouldn't need me all the time.

For absence makes the heart grow fond.

But, co-dependence goes over the line.



If I found someone who respected me.

My name would be a household item.

They'd shun people for badmouthing me.

In fact, we both wouldn't like them.



If I found someone who loved me.

If I found someone who needed me.

If I found someone who respected me.

Then I wouldn't know what I need now.



-z-

(I value the journey I have gone through, and I would never change a thing)

W o W o W o W

When something is UNbelieveable...

When I'm not able to believe how UNbelievably UNbelievable

That YOU Be Lieve you could not be leaveable

That's when I have to say:

WOW
W o W
W O w...


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Life has reached a transition of opposition and motion.

The gears are shifting and the seams are cracking.

The steam is pouring into the vents and I'm they're suffocating.

It's a waterfall death. A pinnacle high end of low. The lowest of low.

It's like you have to look up to see hell...


Wow.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Try

I watched the live performance of this song and was hit by the presentation.
The lyrics.
The devotion to the idea.

Felt like singing it myself.

-z-

Smitten

A poem I wrote in 2003:


he says there's a love, that never dies.
it changes who he's been.
who he was, and therein lies,
the tragedy he lends.

'God will save your weary soul.
he's there to ease the pain.'
no sanctity will make me whole.
or put aside my shame.

for if this God, who loves me so.
and hates me all the same.
is ever right, and will always know.
i cannot speak his name.

'i am the truth, the way and the life.'
oh God i cannot feel.
for this grieving heart, is dying too.
and you were never real.

'He shed his blood,a nd died for you.
so you will flee from hell.'
and i know i could, if i wanted to.
i'm dying just as well.

oh God, dear God, the one on high.
who forgets me all the same.
i am too proud, to never lie.
and let jesus fill my veins.

so cast me out, from heaven's book.
where my name once was written.
i have no doubt, that if you look.
the devil and i are smitten.

it is written, so it is written.
the sinner is me is smitten.

infactuated with living a lie.
for no truth in me is found.
no truth to be, blatent honesty.
i die.
i lay around.
i lose myself, in losing him.
the one who made me whole.
i lose my health, my future dim.
the devil heals my soul...

Auditioning for THE VOICE in february.

Daily yoga/jogging routine.

Practicing new songs on the guitar.

Going to buy a nice keyboard for xmas possibly.




I have become completely isolated from my east coast life.

Everyone has moved or is leaving where I  once lived as well.


Not in contact with any of my family, except a distant uncle in Florida.

Turning 27 in February of 2013...


Where am I?

I am getting so excited for my motorcycle classes to begin, and to start traveling across the desert on my new(not yet purchased) ride.

I remember when I first saw a photo of my older half-brother Edsel Jr- he had a motorcycle. I thought it was the most incredible thing. EVER.


*squeal*

Moving forward. My job is draining beyond measure, but there is some talk about management and ways to make that less of a potential thing and more of a solid idea. I have been working so hard at being an ideal candidate, and I will be sorely disappointed if that does not come to fruition. Suffice it to say, that this currently pays the bills and I have nothing to be unhappy about. I am very blessed to have a job so close to my home (Less than 2 miles), and it is one of the busiest places in the state of Arizona for our company.

The sunshine out here has truly changed my life. Maybe it seems like a simple change in climate, but to me the constant sunlight and warmer weather has made me feel like a better person. When I read back through old journal entries, I find myself clinging to sadness amidst the winter season, and wishing for DEATH. Now that I've been here through the holidays and the "cold" I really don't feel as if it will phase me ever again. Would I ever consider moving to another state that has a change of seasons, or a country for that matter? No. Probably not. I was born in Florida, lived near the ocean on Merritt Island, and used to cry when the moon came out. Sunshine sustains me, and keeps me happy.

John and I are doing fantastic. Either that or I have been overexposed to vitamin D from all the sunlight... ha ha.
No really- I could not be more content with another human being. He accepts all of my faults, and makes me more aware of my positive attributes. Something I have NEVER once had in a partner.
When I really look back at my life on the east coast, and all of the things I went through:

I realize that I was never a whole person. I was always missing some aspect of myself. Or there was something about my life and my current state of mind that I didn't appreciate or love. I tried to re-emerge as this newly sober, peace, love, and happiness hippie freak. It wasn't completely real, except for the sobriety, and the fact that I really WAS trying to attain inner peace and find love in all things and myself. I remember things that people said to me back home. How mad everyone was at me for cutting them out of my life. For taking on this whole crazy experience and only thinking about myself.

Do I regret it? Nope.

Am I sorry? Yes.

Sometimes.

Every person in your life is a building block to a greater you.
The people we attract almost symbolize the very essence of of the pieces we are searching for within ourselves.

I had so many people around me and in my life before I turned 21. I was so desperately trying to find myself. Doxie told me once that she noticed when she first met me how I was always doing something destructive to myself, and that I was obviously lost. Very wise and intelligent, but very lost. Hearing things like that made so much sense. I always thought I was ahead of the game and all the things I did to myself and my body wouldn't catch up with me. It was a classic case of being young, stupid, and feeling invincible. I also didn't take into consideration that the people in my life weren't invincible to my biting remarks, and wishy washy emotions. I hope someday they can forgive me, and that they find genuine happiness in all they pursue.

After my 23rd birthday I had nothing but alcoholics and verbally abusive people back in my life. I flip-flopped. Then within that same year- I stopped it all. Started over, and began things on a clean(er) slate.

Lots of weird dates. Plenty of strange nights by myself. Deciding if music was a worthwhile career (again...) Deciding about college, where I wanted to live, etc... blah blah blah. I feel like the two years after my 23rd birthday were all decisions and steps to a higher purpose. My open mic nights were really successful after I began them in 2008 at my old job. The first one spread into a second one down the street. I was making upwards of $3500.00 a week. Holy wow- my life was amazing and I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Then my car accident happened. Then my boyfriend cheated. Then this, then that, then it all just fell into what I thought was SHIT.

In retrospect, it all really wasn't that bad. I created a large community of artists and musicians who were dedicated to honing their craft. I planted a seed of creativity and change that Ann Arbor needed.

When the Motor City Vaudeville Review happened to me, and when I say "It happened" I mean that. It was this whole other experience in learning about myself, and the things and people in my life. I had a new perspective on my old friends that I had abandoned, and I had a new perspective on myself. It was then that I realized a good portion of the loving people who were in that show, always saw the potential in me to create good. To create art. In any form. My mother still says to this day that the MCVR show was the best show she has witnessed in her life. It was a new reality. A new world for people to absorb. Maybe I just think it's magical and more splendid because I was in it, but it really created a lot of changes in my life, and a few people close to me.

My friend Meranda uprooted herself and ran away with the circus to Detroit after that show. My friend Ryan started dating this girl sandra, and now after being together for a couple years they are getting married. My mother quit her job, and began pursuing more schooling and a job that put her more at home for my brothers and their education. After her car accident, and a really tumultuous six months of uprooting my life, losing everything I worked so hard for, and going bat-shit crazy... My mother and I repaired bits and pieces of our fucked up relationship, and she told me for the first time in my life that she was proud of me, and the way I "raised my brothers to be such respectful and intelligent young men." My mother gave ME credit for taking care of the kids... I cannot give myself a pat on the back, because I did it out of love. I suffered from it- but I know deep down within myself that I would do anything for them, because they are an extension of myself and my life.

There is so much amazing energy and light in every place I go now.

Yes, there is still a lot of sadness. There is still a lot of pain.

Sometimes I sit here, like I am right now at 2:30am and I feel a bit alone, but I know it is temporary.

I am really excited to get my motorcycle.

here's my to do list for 2012:

1. Go to the four corners
2. drive my bike to Los Angeles
3. Take a train across the USA.
4. Get a management position
5. Continue to teach and open myself spiritually 6. To be on the local news (for something amazing)
7. To learn more about my cherokee background
8. Love
9. And love some more.
Even if I am typing it for myself- I am truly sorry and I forgive all the hurt I allowed myself to endure.
I forgive and release myself of all the anger and frustration I took out on other people.
I sever and cut the ties of bad energy I have mixed into the lives of other people who were only trying to help.

I am sorry, and I have learned my lesson(s). And I hope to learn more.


I hope one day I can re-connect with the people who crossed my mind while writing.

I know that if it is meant to be, it will be put into place.


When I was 21 years old- I was going to write a book called "21 and in Limbo" - Now I could write a book called, "21 was nothing compared to Limbo and back"

:-)

-z-