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jesus is my brother and mary is my mother. we were raised to love one another. i have 2 freckles on my hands they remind me of those nails and that i have light in my heart and where i am truly from. you are my sister and my brother. we were raised to love one another and create a faithful bridge for family where there isn't one. these hands are warm and stable and freakishly soft, so i've been told. i lay them upon our hearts and feel that healing light surge and trust this is walk on water faith and knowingness is strength when evidence can't be heard or shown. 

this tee shirt is helpful in the rain. 


to not erase, but to embrace. 

this is the life that makes a way when there isn't one.

to find peace with no reason but to understand we are all god's children, and he forsakes none. 

with the knowingness that forward movement means love-me-this,

an unspoken promise to rising visions with heart on fire, like mothersun. 

the preference set to selfishness over selflessness. because she protects the little one.

and she sees now the love-me-trust, all along she was the only one she could count on. 

the stars are proof, compassion pants of our youth.

and now there is no stopping her from aligning with outside trust.

one more thing. give me real. the ones who feel the power of can do and see the light as a bright source to lead them to what they want. the ones who can ask and the ones who can own a piece of the glorious magnanimous life and take the world by storm.

- me


 clark kat



vincente agor

made in lowell

have the want. now have the have.




Never give up. When your heart becomes tired, just walk with your legs - but move on. paulo coelho

to know: you appreciate my heartmind. this lasts longer than cream cheese, which expires in time. i move you. this i feel and can see beyond the walls in this room. you move me. i see what you feel before it becomes real. then you came along. my soul learning to trust someone.

there was something that came to be yesterday... this is the future. contemplation means it matters to your heartsoulself. to be moved and know this tells you a truth that can not be reasoned on a pro/con list. options list v lost/found.



i believe we receive what we are meant to when it happens. regardless of the original intended or intention. the love message transcends and is delivered to who is open to letting in and running with the heart song string. see rainbow of silk. building a lighthouse or house of light inside, that feels like silk but strong like brick. and this takes time.



to be or not to be.

the most demanding part: loving self

act one: i will be, potential

act two: do the right thing

act three: deviate from the pack

act four: who you are not

act four and one-half: improv, seriously?

act five: conspire - energetic influences

act six: knowingness meet clarity

act seven: revise intentions, process

act seven and one-half: hello guilt, fear, and your dang friends

INTERMISSION — popcorn, no butter.

act eight: follow your heart, love

act nine: create miracles, it's common place

act ten: conscious creation, tbc. Ox. 

Live what you love.™

just focus on what you want to show up in your life. and, be specific. 


thank you for all your kind emails and love for hope. i had been been writing hope's story and was informed of the implications of cyber lifting to the contents of this book. the truth is—you feed this story. it possesses the energy of those vintage radio shows that people would tune-in to and forget about life for awhile, to be in the shoes of another...rooting for heros and loving outcomes. so i made my point—my intuition will drive this and i will continue to rely on my heart soley. 'cause i say SOthere is HOPE: the story is back + continues. love is fuel. i am posting and not at the mercy of corporate fear. loveliveshere. Ox.


love soldier

this tune is a special one. it opened a door for me in creative process. this is result of some energetic bouncing—listening to the voice of an artist singing a rare cover song and this poured from my soul. hmm. the meaning feels so true today. the intention is dedicated to love soldier.

earbudbville :) this is. this is what came out this morning - LISTEN: the audio file that could. i explain. tbc ox. 

love conquer me

written by me | summer 2010 or 2011?  :) 

lay your sword on that blanket and place your heart by the edge, so it won't break.

there's a little pile of we're all a little banged-up somewhere, looking at it is hard to take. 

with forgettin-n-forgiv'n, there's no retreat.


:: i keep on repeating - your never alone in a crowd of believers,

and miracles might happen, just close your eyes


just when you believe walking on water is only for jesus, 

a hand appears from beneath the pile of words you been pushing aside.


para-troopping from mid-day hunches proving you still got what it takes

leveraging soul searching missions from a 6-string's suitcase


telling you put down that hammer and let the nails fall to the floor

well you asked for more...

well, you asked for more


commitment's a love soldiers responsibility, 

he closes his eyes, but never sleeps .

listening is hard when you don't want to hear what you need,

now living in your new world of love conquer me. 

love conquer me.




the road.

it is.

a path of least resistance.

yOUR heart.

and would, not a shoulda.

it tells the truth and leads your towards a could.


an open book inside this hood.

bread crumbs sings. sunshine things. a rock that means thousand things.

to me everything. timing is beating. and i am not sleeping. 

feels like downloading what your thinking. 



july 15, 1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

july 15, 1943

dear john,

hi.hi.hi. it's 8:38am. i just woke up… it was a very late night... your letter next to me, feeling this memory in my throat. my body was tingling in racing emotions with no one to tell this to. i lay here exhausted from relief and still the desire not quelled—feeling you here, so i transmuted our love while i slept and writing in my head...

it happened in slow motion... i focused on you being with me. this is what i feel waking with you under my skin. whispering into your ear, i love you. and god, thank you for this. 

...pressed with my cheek against your back. the melodic rythmn of your heart keeps me still, and covered. my right arm is at home gracing your ribcage. my eyelash stroked your skin, i feel it stirred you into an inhale-n-exhale deep—i peel away to feel a cool airstream rush-in where a veil of warm sweat has formed between us like two steamy warm spoons. it's just dawn. 

your limb is so heavy, but nudging my way under your arm with my face makes you roll on your back. ahh your strong chest. i wiggle may way into your neck cavity, plowing my head under your day stubbled chin, kiss your colar bone, rubbing my thumb on your sweet bottom lip. hmm both your lips hug my finger knuckle. my eyes still closed. i feel you thirsty. me too. i reach for water and sip. wet lips. mmm. mmm? means, want a sip?—in our language. response: a short hmm.—yes. my eyes are now half open. i carefully meet the glass to your mouth and tilt it just enough for a trickle to come out. and a gulp. no response needed, i know you well enough to know when you've had enough. 

i bellow the top sheet to create a cooling effect and reset for the next few hours—a powerful mix of stillness and what’s stiring inside our unresting souls. a favorite part of the day. we, still-no-more...only the rustle of bed linen while entering a healing movement with rising sun. a hunger satisfied in open familiar exploration....sometimes felt with closed eyes... reminding me to remember the future. conspiring in love time...

and now i sit wide awake on the steps looking at the studio door in my nightgown with my hands around your favorite mug enjoying first brew. 

this is my current. i write and you find your way in my path everyday. the signs of you are everywhere. it’s almost too good to be true. huh, i see there is a tiny spider who has created a home between the bell and the house. he works fast, it wasn’t there looks pretty. there is dew grasping on to the web making it look like glass or icicles. it is so shiny beautiful. you would love it. i appreciate the work ethic of a spider, even though i am afraid of them. i will name him cliff edwards, it’s less intimidating and i will sing to him—when you wish upon a star. 

you living in my heart is a given—a mathematical equation i carry over in long form all day long. keep me in your mind today and feel me holding your hand all the time. god bless us and may our angels help you hear me as i whisper to you while you sleep tonite. 

to be continued. 

i love you,



guarding time

message song audio: LISTEN

when inspiration from the past becomes a wave in current flow, this is what happened. grateful for these moments and the feeling this provoked—a new pov and understanding about heartlove flow. hmm.

and again, iphoney recording. please listen with earbuds in, as i think sounds a bit better :) tbc + ox.

trailblazer—written by me 08.16.14 :) 

i see you keep watching over your wall so high

mighty-like and strong willed 

a sense defining lines

ain't no garden, guarding time...


july 14, 1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

july 14, 1943

dear john, (audio version)

hi. hi. hi. i am officially wide awake in the middle of the most fierce summer lightening storm since i can't remember when—it's loud, bright and in our room. the thunder, in our bed. my nerves are shot. the water, pouring over the gutters. water, streamed down the windowpanes. the house was drowning. i leaned over and embraced you—the pillow version of you. and i had to get up and get it—your teeshirt. it still smells like you. ugh, so close in my heart, so far from here. oh thank god it is still so strong—a mix of notes; musk, pinetar and brown sugar. i keep it in your hat box, i think that preserves you for me. i save it for moments like this and somedays that missing you feels all of me. 

i realized the window in the studio was open. i had to go shut it. picture a barefoot 50 yard dash with your favorite star quilt as my shield. i took the flashlight, but i didn't need it. the sky thought it was daytime. i took it seriously, holding back every bit of me not to scream. the lightening lit my way to the switch, but there was no power. that's odd.. in the house it works fine. i fired up the oil lamp we bought during our trip to england. btw, this lighting feels so soothing in here, it made me want to stay. i didn't even know what time it was. it didn't matter. this would be fun if you were here. i would make us popcorn and we could lay on the daybed and you could read to me rosetti's i loved you first, for the hundreth time. i decided to read it myself.
and then, there you were. the real letter. 


my dearest hope, 
i am sorry if you ever felt fearful with me gone. i still feel our last embrace and can see you looking back saying i love you too. you mean more to me than you even know or i have ever said to you. this time appart i never planned on being this long. please know, it is hard for me not speaking, being with you everyday and simply holding you. i replay the memory of your sweet voice in my mind and your pictures come to life everychance i get. you are comfort to me. i talk to you all the time. and i look for you with my eyes closed. you are still here with me, so strongly. trust me, if you were with me, i would be worried about you. i know you are safe here. 
thinking of you is my solace among many strife stricken days, turning to many months and no discussions of endings. this war has changed everything. the pressure is intense, but i am with a team of few good men who believe in what we are doing and progress. 
your green scarf, you didn't loose it.
i promise, i will contact you soon. please, stay happy with me. keep thinking of me. 
and there are more words. know this. 

ps. i have made sure you are taken care of.
i have friends looking out for your well being. please trust them. 
i love you so much sweetpea, JX. 


and so, i see you have been here without me knowing. my thoughts—happy.....disappointed was only a second long.



july 13, 1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

july 13,1943

dear john,

hi. hi. hi. i went to our favorite spot at sunset beach this morning. it was so peaceful, there was hardly anyone there. in my mind—just me, my camera, the sand, the northfork breeze and lots of seaguls. looking at the horizon, i shut my eyes for just a moment and i dozed off. i had this dream: there were so many tomatoes... the garden was overwelming with growth. i would craddle a tomato and it would drop in my palm. it was so easy. they grew as fast as i picked them. i used my dress as a basket. it was getting heavy. then i saw a ladybug. she talked to me.. she said, the quiet is peaceful. rest your worries. you are now fine. he is fine. continue to tend to your crop. open your eyes. shudder no more. enjoy the fruits of your current in life. responsability comes with great purpose. he sealed your heart. and healed the question. she flew away and the word trUSt in gold letters was left where she was perched. it was beautiful divine nature, here with me. my fears flew away with her. i pray to god this feeling stays with me until i hear from you again.

i had afternoon tea with a lovely business woman, maggy rudkin; her family owns the pepperidge farm on the southside. she started a family owned bakery in fairfield, ct.. it was so wonderful to be in the company of a woman with a strong mind who uses her hands to nourish families. she is shipping bread around the country; an amazing story of making her dreams come true, just making bread. roy came over and he took a picture of us together. i will add it to the album. 

i see you at your desk, focused. this makes me happy. please, another heart, when you can. feel me blowing angel kisses reaching your forehead from here. and my warm palms and warm cookies await. 
mayday. ship a shore. to be continued. 
ocean to concrete, god bless us. please let him hear me.
i love you,



july 12,1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

july 12,1943

dear john,

hi. hi. hi. oh dear. i am speechless. you drew a heart on mona's envelope with words: seals with ox. it looks exactly like the one on the back of the studio door you put there before you left. 

my heart dropped. my knees went weak. this is so strange. she gave me the envelope to take home and is sure this is not leonardo's doing, and he is left handed. 

i compared the details and strokes of your work. i know the pressure of your hand and it is identical. it's must be you. that means you can see and you have a right arm. that's loving sarcasm speaking. 

i admit, today was the first day i went back into the studio, since you left.

i was hit with a wall of musty heat and a strange feeling, very scary actually. my memory knows it like the back of my hand, so i didn't want to activate that feeling anymore than it already is. i swear the resistance made the empty feeling sensation stronger, an actual pain in my heart. and i don't understand it. this is beyond rationalizing. it just is alive even without me being able to see a thing. i am writing with blinders on. completely blinded with no help. 

i picked up a few things, opened files and sat on your stool and spun around. a familiar sqweak. i realized the distance is in defining time. it sunk in and i am going to figure it out. 

i kissed the heart on the door, cracked the window to let some air in, and left the light on for the night. i can now see it from the kitchen window in the dark. life in light. 

we'll see what tomorrow brings. i will go back inside and have my coffee in there. 


1:36am s e a l s  ox. 

i am starting to figure it out. i knew nothing. i knew nothing. and you know everything. 

what you don't know can't hurt you - doesn’t apply here. 

i am living with special forces: by sea air and land. 

and the anchor is away. 

typography. cartography. elevations. maps. technical details. 

why couldn't you just tell me? 

oh god. this is not what i expected. this is not my angel—on the front line. he creates the lines. 

i am sleeping with the light on tonight. your heart envelope is leaning on the water glass. i am talking knightnight to sleep with my prayers. 

dear lord, i am trusting you are leading me towards loving truth. i am trusting john is doing what is best. i can't tell anyone. that wouldn't be safe. please watch over us both and place peace in my soul. please be careful with me. and send him my love. 

to be continued. 

i love you, 





july 11,1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

july 11,1943

dear john,

it's 2:30am, i just baked chocolate chip cookies. i couldn't sleep, i am uncertain if this butterfly feeling in my stomach is me or it’s me feeling you. i needed to shake it off. listening to the chain of the ceiling fan tick was just adding to the deafening white noise in my head. 

the plus: it’s so much cooler at night to have the oven on in the kitchen. i poured a tall cold glass of milk... sitting on the back porch steps, dunking, listening to ella and watching fireflies. there seems to be an awful alot of them by the studio door. hmm, interesting. and synchronicity, i just read an article that their light is a communicating mating ritual during courtship. that's some mother nature enginuity. hello.

everything feels so much more intense at night. the provence lavender fragrance seems volumes louder... going to clip some lavender and lay it on your pillow and continue to write chapter. 

more after rest.

hi. hi. hi. and carryover. nothing in the mail again today. and mona just rang me to read her letter from leonardo. i just don’t have it in my spirit to go today. i am very happy for her. very. i will visit and bring her cookies tomorrow. help me jesus.

so i am building a fortress around my heart today...i am doing wash, my favorite chore. it makes me very happy. i keep washing your clothes and hanging them out to dry. it is a comforting act of faith. i sleep in your shirts, so they do need to be washed. i have put on a few pounds since you saw me last, but your pants don’t fit. and that’s a good thing. 

btw, your clothes hanging, a topic. i am the talk of the clucking hens—miss finch face and betty barker, across the street. and i don't care! i hung lingerie out, laced between your black slacks and denim shirts on the line. now i gave them something to really talk about. ladies, look at my pretty wall of courage...rows of whites and darks.

the contrast of your dungarees pop against the huge white backdrop of the white clapboard on the studio siding. i took photos. i will develop them. setting up a dark room in the shed. i have been taking lots of photographs. uncle jimmy is teaching me about photography—i go to morris studio in southampton on saturdays. yes, i am leaving the rock for the day. i will loop this into a few stops and a lovely change of scenery.

one more thing, i just hope you are eating something besides chocolate and cigarettes. 

angel, today has been a make me stronger kind of day. come to me tonight, if you can find your way. i know tomorrow will be better. i am riding this wave and i know it's darkest before the dawn. stay strong in my heart. god bless us. jesus. mary. help him hear me. 

to be continued. 

i love you, 



july 10, 1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

july 10, 1943

dear john, 

hi. hi. hi. i just woke up from a dream...we were walking the shoreline at sunset beach. it was so calm... the stillness in the air was surreal. i got that funny feeling in my throat and then a big wave came out of nowhere. it knocked me over. i got taken for a scary ride...i couldn't catch the grip of your hand.. you were always an inch away no matter how hard you were trying to reach for me. you know the undertow scares me to death. the look in your eyes said trust me. then suddenly, the wave force stopped and i felt cold metal underfoot where sand would be. i was laying in a pile of gold coins. i fell into a treasured chest. that was the source of the tidal wave. we laughed so hard, tears of relief separation between the tears and the waves. we were both drenched..put jeweled necklaces on each other and looked closely at one coin covering the entire palm of your had the number 1 on it. it was beautiful, heavily engraved. the edges were scalloped like a flower. you flipped it over and the word amen or was it omen was written in script on the flip-side. 

ugh, i woke up soggy; my hair sticking to my neck. i looked over... it was just a dream, but the feeling is still so strong in my heartmind. it felt so real. so powerful. i pray my dreams remember to continue when i return tonight. i just wanted the conversation to continue. oh lord. oh lord. please.. 

i usually write you in the afternoon, but i had to write the dream down so i wouldn't forget. hearing your voice does my dream remember your voice? how is that possible? this is all i have, making dreams real with a oneway dialog. god bless my woman’s intuition. 

it's hot already and it's 6:13 am... i can feel the intensity of the heat, no breeze last night... the glass of water on my night table is more than warm, like hot hose water. and i am grateful for everydrop.

btw, i found this lead toy yesterday in the blue box on your desk. i put him next to my water glass. i named him after roosevelt’s son, calling him kermit. he’s my nightknight. it looks like there is a heart on his chest. how about that?!. i will write again tomorrow. know you are on my mind, in my pocket and prayer time is all the time.

to be continued.

i love you,



july 9, 1943

working title: " the drops, on the rock" passages from hope's diary 

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943


july 9, 1943

dear john, 

hi. hi. hi. i hope you are finding moments to rest your eyes. picture me blowing on your eyelids to sooth them and talk you to sleep. i am motivating future memory; staying strong for you, and me. i keep hearing you are lucky you aren’t over there. my response - you call this lucky? look at me.. does this look lucky? my angel is, i don’t know where, this doesn’t feel lucky…so indignant in the garden, i stay. the tomato plants are a foot tall. the scent of the leaves, it’s hard not to walk by and not rub them and smell the perfume clinging to my finger tips. food for soul. i am going to have to cage them soon and keeping my eyes peeled for those hornworms.. remember, the year we went away for a week and came home to all our tomatoes with bites taken out of them? and i thought that was a bad moment. i would start a hornworm farm, if the war would end today. 

staying positive is in my mind….looking out the kitchen sink window and seeing your face again. today you walked up to the window with a nest in your hand, and made bird calls. i watched you place it in the eaves of the wisteria trellis. i can see you have torn your tee shirt.. i wonder how that happened? i will mend it later. 

i have rubbed your photo in my pocket so many times, i have worn off the lips from your face. i should have another one printed, although there is so much love in the worn spots, i am afraid to let it go. 

i continue to pray everyday. i sing all day, songs of praise and love. you are in every song i hear. 

i witness an infinite number of scenes, third party..and hear many things. i believe it when i see it.. listening at the radio, a constant reminder of the possibilities and probabilities. i believe to be all bullshit.  

i wish you were here. i will be at the beach today, writing next chapter in book, collecting rocks and shells.. i'll write you again tomorrow. i have no idea if you are even getting my letters or if you can feel me thinking of you. god bless us. that's all for now. know...

to be continued. 

i love you,