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the only one to compete with is the version of you yesterday.


these are please carry me shoes.

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.


july 18, 1943

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

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

dear john,

hi. hi. hi. 

i was writing so late last night, today a slower pace than usual; gazing at the new crack in the ceiling, missing the small valuable details, our moments—like feeling your breathing expand against me while sleeping and sweeping the bottom of my feet up your leg. the top of your feet, so soft to feel. and your appetite for neck and shoulder kisses. hmm. a very sweet morning visit with my eyes closed.
i'm now up.
so, i did get the ribbon from mona; there was one roll left in town, but mr. blick said he heard doc needed it, so i dropped it off at the office on my way back home. 
doc told me i look a bit pale still. he then proceeded to ask me too many questions, as i was dead-heading the red geraniums in his window. 
he didn't like my response: you are not watering these enough... so doc is coming by for coffee tonight to talk with me. we'll sit outside and i will surprise him with peaches-n-cream. the peaches smell divine. they are from ester. 
i caught her attempting to leave her flour sacked peaches tied to the mailbox. it was her humming that gave her away. she saw me in the window, i wave her to come in for a cup of good morning, she said, i dont want to disturb your day my dear. 
my day? you are my day.
i ran out and dragged her in. and glad i did. she had a bad cut on her arm from her side-fence. i cleaned it up and will check on her tomorrow. her spirits lifted after i wrapped her up. i rubbed her hands with cold cream and she closed her eyes. i hugged her til his tear had fallen. she misses peter, and i feel it. ugh. so heavy in the heart. i looked her in the eyes and said they are in god's hands, you are his pearl. don’t forget that. she pinched my nose, pulled my face down to her chest and kissed my forehead and said, you are my beach plum. i swear i heard that before. it was the oddest feeling. it gave me butterflies in my stomach. i haven't made the connection yet, but it will come. and i can’t shake it. 
i wish you were here...saving my strength for docs dos-n-don’ts. 
i put on artie shaw, filled the tub and released myself. i opened that soap you gave me for christmas. it feels like you. i rubbed it up and down my arms and legs with you.
i left the door open, closed my eyes and called you in. 
if you were here you could rinse my hair about now... the way you gently tilt my head back and support my neck in your hands. btw, my eyes, i keep them open until the very last second so i can see you being so gentle with me, as i stare at you upside down. 
remember the time i was thirsty and you walked by the doorway.. i asked you to reach me my glass of water and you drank it all and laughed. then you refilled it, took a sip, put the glass down and quenched me with your lips filled with water. i pulled you in with me. i share my water. 
with my eyes closed, everything is right, you are here in my living thoughts... i miss you here and this. now. 
i am at the point where it's time to add more hotwater to the tub; my hands look like prunes. it would be really relaxing if buddy would stop barking next-door... this has become a bad habit, since van left. i think he's anxious. i pet him when i walk by. he's even follows me to the heights. i have taken your lead, filling the water bowl by the spicket. i never actually see him drink it, but the bowl needs a refill nearly everyday. and i know he digs holes under the corner hedge so he has a cool spot to rest.


clark is coming by today to put up shelves in the storage room in the studio. i have things i want taken out of the attic...i told him simple but strong. he is smart and takes direction very well. he is quiet. your studio opens him inside. i can see his eyes light up when we are in there. like a torch inside. 

i'm going to go pick some pink cosmos and put them in the vase i made you next to your candle i burn at night with my prayers. i wait for you with love as my truth. jesus, mary help him hear me on the inside. stay safe. in my heart today. i will go to the beach and pick some powerful white rocks for you and me.

i love you cookieface. 

to be continued. 



fait accompli. written sketch book.

it was as if..

it was all i know

and now i have to refind the rest of me. remember her.

i peel the layers and stand naked.

who are you really besides the one with a name, people want to be with and feel my energy?

who are you?

i have found her. i love her. 

i have been dreaming alot—intense sorting and filing and dis-guarding. 

deja vous, ordinary. 

seeing what will happen, secondary.

feeling what is, primary. this is the moment to listen to. the voice i look to. the one i pitch to. the one i run to/with. 

the strength in this connection will determine your outcome. it has to. or you are directed by the one you follow and that is filtered by their eyes. their motives and their attachments. 

something has happened to this room in my heart, recently. i can feel a sense of non-attachment, where there used to be a fear of aloneness. it’s now more a desire to loving conspire than clutching. a totally different charge from this level of love. fear. i used to experience panic attacks; elevators, stadiums. i wonder if this is still in me? the last concert i went to was the millenium BJ/MSG. but that was VIP.. so maybe that doesn’t really count. :) check into a hotel on the 42 floor. crap. i break out in a sweat. up is not the problem, it's down. hmm. ? > ! 

the trapped feeling... no way out. uncertain if this is past life pompeii like or being bury alive in egypt or living healing tables in greece.. i see all in my dreams. i will write about them someday. 

i can also recognize souls i knew. i like this too. you know it when your heart says: what was that? do i know her? like attracts like. trust finds trust. 

the room, inspired me to move me this past the understanding words sometimes are between a breath and an expression. the only difference is my old belief was interference cuts energy in half and dilutes what truth is the air, like fog. a shift: know that light inside a lighted chest cuts through any obstacles and extends beyond no-way can be to everything. i like this. roots like this grow a life tree with branches with fruit flavorful and with potent the biggest tastiest orange you ever experienced. my truth tree yields. this is stuff miracles are made of. i have been broken and healed. i like that too.


ain’t nothin’ like truth and loving kindness to break a fall and propel the purest intentions to call you forward.

and it ain’t none of my business what you think of me. 

keep eyes on own paper and be complete. fait accompli.


july 17, 1943

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

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

dear john,

hi. hi. hi. 

LISTEN: Audio Version.

it was the hair on your thigh that brushed up against the back of my left hip. i reached back, you weren't there, but the spot was very warm to my hand, like you left your body-heat behind. oh my god, peace please. i closed my eyes and told you to come home...i have had enough and want you back. 

and then somehow the dream continued...

rolling over and feeling resistance from the back of my skull, this is common. your clutched fist had my hair in it—a ritual that has become an endearing habit—you stroke me in the middle of the night. and hearing you whisper sleepy sleepy, a deepening comfort into a peaceful dream state. this treasure, i do not take for granted. a feeling so healing for each another and so hard for most to understand—like they couldn't be bothered. to me and you, so sacred—an intimacy with hearts touching—keeps our fire going. these actions are like well seasoned dried logs feeding and nurturing our loving natures. the knowingness that our two pairs of hands make love from deep caring thoughts fills me with a strength i will express when i see you next. and something i hope in your heart you know. 

gently turning, kissing your inner forearm, releases my lock from your grip, a few long strands still entangled in your fingers. placing your warm hand on my chest until i catch your cheeks lift a semi-conscious smile casting a pleasantly surprised expression, still with your eyelashes laced together. i like watching you gravitate to my side the moment i roll out of bed. i have yet to figure that out. it's like a magnet. perhaps knowing i will return to you with more good morning wakeup; a ritual of rubbing your arms and legs or is it my good strong cup of my coffee mug in my hands. hmm?. 

i shut the pair of windows as a damp breeze has filled the room. your feet are sticking out. i cover them with your starquilt which has fallen to the floor. 

i woke up suddenly to the thought, i must go re-cover you in the studio before roy and clark arrive. i dashed downstairs and see the photograph of you playing baseball is tilted on the wall. and a deep feeling of fear-change filled me. hmm. i almost tripped down the stairs. that change startled me. i didn't expect to see that. it's been in the same place for so long. hmm. embracing change is walking that fineline. i am grasping onto what i know, which feels comforting, what i feel, because my body tells me so and standing in the future of our plans for everything - all at the sametime. this pushed a button: questioning my sense of our security in my mind-playing tricks on me. we are rock solid. i repeat to myself. 

i moved the rock to hold open the studio door with my barefoot, and felt a strong urge to flip it over. A HEART. gulp. i sat on the floor, holding your rock in my lap watching water stains create spots on the surface. thank you cookieface, your timing is perfect. this was a blessing. to feel your heat and to live this moment filled me with safety. i am tempted to bring it to the house, but i will leave it here. and i love you. 

i am writing this on the sideporch. it is damp outside today. unexpected, but it will burn off, i think. i saw a dragonfly. grandpa told me they bring wind. so, new air will follow.

i will write more later... roy and clark just arrived. 

angel, you are in my thoughts. from my lips to yours. please mary and jesus, help him feel me and hear my voice. peace. ... i must run to town this morning, i need new type ribbon, i hope they have it. more soon...

11 AM:

or i will have to borrow from mona, she has a cousin that has sent her some from new york. i don't ask. i just stay in our safehaven as if rationing is not a part of my existence. i have everything i need. and making sure our elderly are looked after is my priority. please, just come home.

it's wash day and for the first time i am using soap mona made—this should be interesting, she swears by it, an ancient recipe from her family. her kitchen smells beautiful. she has been crushing lavender. i told her my whites better not turn blue. i will test a few things, just to make sure. and yes, i am still washing your pants and shirts. the line will be a sea of dark blue dungarees flanking white munsingwear, and white linens. 

to be continued.

i love you, please dear lord, i hope you hear me. thank you for the heart rock, this means so much to me. these are nuggets of light in my day. and your picture is still living in my pocket. i am looking at it as i write. there is a god. 



my intuition tells me everything.

i woke with this in my head: clarity fortress speaks truth to power.
a never ending source of light.
to feel. and believe.
my intuition
told me everything. 
everything. i saw this 6 mos ago. 1 year ago. 4 years ago. 5 years ago. 
and i compete with no one. its a beautiful thing.
the hurdle is, in this realm
timing feels like now and that can be confusing. 
waiting creates ounces of doubt adding up to pounds diffusing what felt right-on and telling it all. 
i see clips like movie strips landing on the cutting room floor. rooms and dreams and people themes-songs of potentials and of their calling. 
so afterall, i realised trust is aka intuition. it's a sacred space the higher players want to be with, around and collide with. 
my current circle of trust has a secret code and the diameter of a quarter—because they are who i choose for my energy to know. a sacred love. it's not how many followers it's the strength in one or two bonds. 
i have been to freakin' hell and back which forced an opening in my heart and in my head— a porthole wider than its ever been. and anyone who speaks bullshit my heart—heart says run. and liars are not welcome. deception is perception. love is the opposite. it feels true and safe and i can run with it, like a mirror in the echo. 
i can spot truth in a nano second and false words and low frequency energy cause it makes me sick to my stomach.
i can download information that does nothing for me. so i release it and hope it helps somebody.
i can sense like and familiar energy like a beam of light in the black of night. imposters. wizzard of ozs. luring my flowers. 
i heal. because i can. 
i am an open conduit of words that create molocules of light. miracles in my finger tips with a team of power in the palm of my hands at night. 
i can assist anyone sleep deep into safe-flight.
i feel everything. 
my heart song, it's all about light. 
i have dedicated the eternity of my life to loveliveshere. 
btw, this. and is by invitation only. 
you can’t buy this. 
5 buttons— my heart is worth the power of angels on my back.
my soul is not for sale. it becomes a personal gift. namaste.
real is what i feel. find me real. like soul energy is like static electricity. cling to sing.



at the candy store with my friend synchronicity

this happened the day after the last post. these confirmations have become second nature. it is amazing how this connection is really strong. i have been writing about it and playing songs i wrote long ago—with meanings i am just understanding now. 

the princess and the pea: the knowingness. 

the boat with the whale: knowingness.

the living on a prayer: the knowingness.

the knight, hmm.. i thought i captured him :( well there is his dragon friend with princess :) he is standing at the top of the castle. 

audio: LISTEN

princess and the pea

mouse, mouse, elephant, lion and friends...

princess and happy dragon

 video fieldtrip : ) 

yesterday was papa's anniversary, when he went to heaven. he's been in my face so much lately. today these: i was just cleaning out my antique pine trunk that he was using in his den. i recently took it back. the coins + safety freakin' pin. so with salty eyelashes, i write this. oh dear, the pink light. amazingly blessed with gratitude. the amount of energy this takes for him is alot. i am so grateful. this feels like love. unconditional. 

ps. i love it that-that one toy coin says "the world of money". the meaning represents freedom to me. hmm, i like that alot. please embrace freedom with all your heart. ok?

i dedicate these blessings to me + you. tbc. ox



to bump in to soul creatures who feel like you have known them before. this understanding, it just is. you don't need to force it. your heart tells you so. it shakes the earth. and shakes your life up. that's how you know. i believe called an authentic growing love as soul partnerships. love, both a noun and a verb. mission: to bringout the best in one another. it ain't always rosey, but it's dynamic real and deep and people want what you have. why? because they feel it is powerful. it's threathening and magnetic. it's solid, colorful and electric. it changes history. it may be once in a lifetime kind of real. i have been writing about it and heartsongs are pouring from me. the last few months have taught me more about this connection and this trust inside my knowingness. the dream. he has my back. i have his back. so much of this relationship is about momentum and permission with trust. the pea under the mattress feeling is the evidence that the seed of what you intend is not going away. so you must make it happen. it's a living on a prayer feeling—my intentions are clear. mission loveliveshere. this is all i know. i will not ask anyone to tell me how i feel. this is what fucks everything up. i put the pieces together. and i also see now, i ask, i receive. always. there is no negotiating with pure intentions. rationalizing doesn't work either. you can only fool your heart in temporary timetable to cope. the truth always rises to the surface. freedom is the endgame. love light and abundance rule this plane. i am on it. and source shows me. intending from clarity is what this foundation is built from. brick by brick. i was a sharpshooter, templar, scribe and healer in my other lives. this time round, all of us are building a life boat that is full of happiness. i am in it. and beyond grateful for this. i make happiness. this is authentic rich—because the energy of this created vibe is high and clear and potent in the middle of it. and still my feet are solid grounded and i can cross the street without getting run over. safety first.
how do you know? 
cause it still feels like it is. and my vivid dreams tell me so. 
and yet i have no way of inthenatural really knowing... just my intuition and angel feathers being dropped in my way, telling me — this is love exists.
i asked this question while driving - 
if you could, would you hold my hand? 
and then i got out of my car, reached back inside to grab my handbag—this landed in my hand. for serious :) freakin tears streaming down my face. that looks like a yes to me. certainly feels like it. 
how long do i have to wait? 
i am asking this question today.
living the double-edge sword: the patience of a saint


cloudboat youthern hammerspace.


july 16, 1943

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

shelter island, ny - aka the rock, 1943

dear john,

hi. hi. hi. 

i was waking this morning and i heard men talking in the carpark. i jumped-up, heart startled with an excited kind of rush in my veins. the speech rythm and tone was so known—especially through the sound of the ford tailgate being lowered. i swore it was you. oh lord, a vocal mirage. it was roy and clark to fix the electrical in the studio.  

it seems as if the storm was a blessing, there was short in the wiring. i instructed them to add a few more outlets. clark said he would add a switch from the house mudroom to light the studio. that sounds smart, don't you think? safety first. he kept saying that. it is remarkable how his voice sounds like yours. i didn't ask why he wasn't with you; he seems to young and healthy to be home. roy trusts him, that's all i care about.  

i made them lunch. it was nice to have someone to cook for. i made lobster salad lastnight and baked a pullman loaf of bread. i served it with our lettuce, cucumber and cherry tomatoes from the garden. they were so appreciative. it brought me such joy. i was nourished watching them eat. i crave this feeling, feeding someone.

i draped sheets over your desk and work tables, it felt eerie. i wanted to go back in and remove them tonight. it made me sick to my stomach. you know that feeling i had when you were thinking of contracting with that new company? i felt that same exact feeling inside; now knowing that my gut feelings are true. so i went back in the studio and i uncovered everything. i will wake extra early and re-cover before the work continues. 

the odd thing was i smelled freshly sharpened pencil wafting in the room—it weakened my knees. i could see you and hear the sound of lead writing on paper in my mind. i walked outside and back-in to clear my senses. it's real. still there. the freshly sharpened pencil scent. lead + wood. no mistaking that. hmm. 

i swear my awareness of signs is heightened. i talked to mona about it, asking her if she could relate. her response was beautiful—this lets you know you are on his mind and embrace these divine pure gifts to guide you. i pictured my head resting on your chest. her words soothed me as i walked back from her home tonight. we now walk each other halfway and part at the yellow house on the corner. there is something about these days that feels surreal, like i have done this before. 

i pray this is true. because me in your arms again feels like it already happened with all my heart. i made cake tonight. it's cooling. the aroma feels good to my nerves. i needed to make something i knew you would love. i baked it for you. i will powder a heart on top in the morning. and today i decided i am not counting the days until i see you again. i am planning the beautful things we will do and places we will go to when we are together.

stay safe wherever you are. i pray you can hear me talking to you tonight. whispering sweet sounds in your ear.

to be continued.

i love you angel, 



i wrote this with a pencil from your desk:

it was as if the longing lingers

like the strength in her finger that touches your heart from many miles away and swims towards you through the deep blue sea by faith. 

slicing waves with iron bow strength

a love determind—can't be stopped by optopuses holding fate.

me reaching you. 

you reaching me. 

you me. 

this is love. 



a forget me not flower from my garden heart.


ps, and tomorrow is a full moon. i am making a wish i will hear from you soon. HEART.




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,