Purple Reign... in the pines

To say I was a fan of Prince...

Well, that would be patronizing. And disingenuous.

Equally so, if I tried to pretend to be one now. No. That would be a disservice not only to him but also his fans. I can't say I have any of his records or CDs. (Yet.)

Oh, sure I was well aware of him and his talents. Liked Little Red Corvette, knew Purple Rain and Party Like its 1999? Cool. I can only remember that I can't remember details of a run-in or two with 'His Royal Badness' in downtown Minneapolis in the early '80's. Prince had the tendency of just showing up in and around the venue First Avenue, the location for filming much of the 1984 film, Purple Rain. Later, when he opened up Glam Slam in 1989, the odds of a Prince sighting, when he happened to be in town, went up.

So what I'm trying to say, here, is really what I'm feeling. It is something so much more than fandom... I'm in awe. Watching Prince from like another platform; the way he could move/glide. The voice and vocalizations. His spectacular guitar playing. His shyness/boldness. Every time I feel like comparing him, I just don't. He was clearly  a 'one-of-a-kind'. At 5'2", he grew to become an international entertainment giant. With a 'secret' vault.

Seeing Purple Rain the movie again Saturday night was like connecting the dots backward. It somehow made sense that way.

Prince's dying alone in his private elevator... at only 57... somehow, has taken a part of me, from deep, and stretched it all the way to wherever he's moved on to. It's both far and close. These vibrating, pulsating lines of energy; light, love, whatever... I see them flow out into eternity and at the same moment wrap around my heart and head. In purple light. And in love. I'm not sure why. (Yet.)

I don't have the right words to communicate this very well. I will defer, for the time-being, to the photographs I took today out at Paisley Park. If you are local, I truly hope you can make it out in person this week. Bring someone special. My pictures do not do justice to the overwhelming force that is palpable and heartfelt among the thousands and thousands of items big, small, priceless... If you are unable to visit, may you get a sense of what I speak of from below. That is my wish.

A message from Prince; from his life, his death and his dreams, it's forming in my mind. And heart. It's Purple. And its Pine. I'm not sure quite why... but I sense... it's divine.



 

 

 

 

 

 

As I was leaving, I spotted a purple, heart-shaped balloon floating over and past Paisley Park. Peering through the fence at what once gleamed white like a mythical, mystical palace, to me, now felt like an empty sepulchre...

 

 

 

I have not figured out the Ginger Ale - Doritos connection, though... (Yet.)

Like a flash...

 

 

 

 From a sacred spot among the Pine Elders:

 

 

"What is even more valuable than what I hear from you?

 

Simply knowing that in all ways

you speak to me."

                                                                                                                                    G Lesley  20 April 2016

 

 

 

On my morning walk with Keeli yesterday, a gleam of wisdom streaked across my consciousness. Like a flash, but this was a bit different from past bolts of enlightenments. It wasn't me 'listening'. It was me doing the talking, in the presence of something greater.

 

It was 'my' voice, in the company of wisdom.

 

Ego said I would remember my one-liner with precision. Experience knew better. Spirit decided to reach for my smartphone and type it into a self-addressed email.  Ahhh... The fusion of technology with spontaneous moments of contemplative awareness.

 

email to me:

(no subject)

wht is evn more valuable thn what i hear from U - simply knowng tht in all ways u speak to me

 

With the flash memorialized and the email sent, dog and I continued the trek. For double coverage, I also texted it with a photo to my dear friend CJ. If an asteroid nailed me in the head that morning, my prescient sentence would, at least, live on in someone else's cell phone. Que sera  sera.

 

 

 

 

 

 



We arrived at another spot where I usually stand, in self-worn footprints, admiring, with reverence, the view across an opening of short grass. Ringed with elm and birch, it holds a serene fusion of terrain and foliage that connects my body to the earth, draws my vision outward and spirit skyward. I have a simple saying I make: "I am, I be, I ring in harmony..."

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

It was behind me and above. South.

 

-A bird, logically, but I had never heard that sound. Not a sharp chirp or melodic whistle. It was subtle but more throaty and 'whooooty'... windy... fluttery, in a barely separable chain of two-tone sounds. And moving.

 

There was a big tree behind me. As I turned, looking up to the top, I heard the call;

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

-Behind me... in the original direction I had been facing. North. High in the open sky.

 

Gazing/straining/squinting, a few seconds pass. Behind me, AGAIN; South. Up and a little to my right:

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

I'm being circled. Brilliant deduction, but by what? A mystery sound from space. What does this mean? The sky was empty. Ghost riders?

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

How does 'it' keep getting behind me?!? I can hear this supposedly winged-whooper but I'm not seeing it. Think logically Gary! This is really happening. Right?

 

And then I heard me.

 

 

"What is even more valuable than what I hear from you?

 

Simply knowing that in all ways

you speak to me."

 

 

 

I wasn't sure that would suffice. I didn't really want to hear the answer from... me. And then I realized that was the ego talking.

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

 Still being circled/ensnared into something more. Come on! I need to 'see' what there is to see here. I get the wisdom part. I think...

 

I looked at Keeli for a sanity check.

 

"Can you hear that?".

 

From 50 feet away, she raised her head, looked over.

 

Sure. What ever you want to hear. You interrupted my grass munching for that?

  

Great.

 

I caught myself trying to grab. I let go and surrendered to the wisdom of the moment, and the mystery. Then, there was a speeding blur. About 100 feet above the ground, and a trailing sound;

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

This time, I got smart. I kept my gaze in the same part of the sky that the blur had just passed and sure enough, there was another, trailing in a great circle. Two. Playing a game if not among themselves but maybe also with me? Lightning fast-fast birds. Among the fastest.

 

The Common Nighthawk; Chordeiles minor. 

 

     

                        

 

Possibly mating and/or migrating. My research showed that they are common across Minnesota and as remarkable as they are diminutive speedsters. I watched them for a few minutes. If you weren't looking for them in anticipation of where their tell-tale sound was coming from, you'd never ever be aware they were circling about.

 

An ornithologist would likely instruct birders to listen first for their distinctive sound before attempting to catch a glimpse of them. At full speed in the air, they are mostly a blur. Given that they are more often active in low-light and dark conditions,  you can spy them easily as they fly about the tall light poles, clearing the air of unsuspectedly doomed insects.

 

whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop

 

I just happened to be in the right spot at the right time. Was there plenty of something tasty for these two to feast on up above me? Or were they were actually 'feasting' upon me? And my desire for wisdom? A sentient connection? Just brunch? I'm fine either way.

 

I realized that if I would have known what I was 'hearing', I would have been better able to know what to 'look' for. And then to 'see'. I felt awed that my ears were open enough to hear my daylight nighthawks in the first place. I re-heard my voice from the lesson with the pine elders.

 

 

 

 

 

I felt blessed, humbled to be aware of it.

 

Our ears are intended to facilitate the understanding and application of information into our mind, ultimately, to integrate directly into knowing, and wisdom, which no longer needs to be 'heard' to be 'known'. Like your name. Like your heartbeat. Like I AM. It simply is.

 

 

"What is even more valuable than what I hear from you?

 

Simply knowing that in all ways

you speak to me."

 

 

Assemble your library while you are young. Accumulate that which is necessary to train the ear of your body, mind, heart and spirit. As you grow, and move back into the divine universe, you will find the need for less and less from others and more to get and give, from your very own... wisdom, until there is no longer the need to read it or hear it or see it. Then, you will be enabled to give your voice to it. And make space for others to do the same.

 



 

To pass it on. To give it away.  The truly wise need no library but for to direct others to it.

 

The essential contents of the ever-expansive universe becomes as simple to carry about in your pocket or your shoe, as you would a few grains of well-rounded sand.

 

And then, simply and suddenly, those very precious grains fuse into One.

 

(CJ: Thank you for letting me know you got my text!)

 

 

 

 

 

PS/ A day later...

 

A sad day in Minnesota and around the world. A truly creative and brilliant artist passed on; 21 April, 2016. Too young. Cause to be determined. Maybe. It's been said he lived with many 'pains'.

 

Rumor has it he left a literal 'vault' of material that may become a source of music for years, possibly decades to come. His legions certainly hope so. I pray he passed on with the knowledge all that really matters is contained in the vault of your very own soul. 

 

If I gave you diamonds and pearls

Would you be a happy boy or girl

If I could

I would give you the world

But all I can do

is just offer you my love

                                              Diamonds and Pearls, Prince

 

I had to go see Purple Rain again as a number of theaters were running it. Took a drive over past Paisley Park afterward. Yes... it's been quite rainy here the past few days... And lots of purple.

 

(photo courtesy yahoo.com) 

 

 

 

 

Prince Rogers Nelson

R.I. P. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course Gus was lonely.

Sort of...

 

Back in October; I had been watching a series of the last videos Wayne Dyer made before passing on at the end of August. Classic Dr. D; on living intentionally, remaining open to the universe, trusting your intuition, how we're all connected... so much more. It all resonated with me and inspired me to press on with my own book project; Message From Charlotte: A Gift of Webs and Wisdom. Watching and listening to the man, knowing these words would be marking his legacy, a powerful flow cast straight to my soul. 

 

Was I then surprised during one of those very videos, when Wayne shared a story about a spider that he observed, while he was on his toilet? (Wayne, not the spider!) How he found himself awed and amazed by the industrious creature going about the spinning of its web, in the corner just a few feet away? No. Well, yes. Sort of...

 

Tears did well up in my eyes; followed by a couple that rolled down my cheek, as we drew together during his telling. He and I on opposite ends of the universe... and connected. Wayne not only named his eight-legged stall-mate but, compelled to prevent an untimely demise, alerted his housekeeper to allow him to remain, posting a sign nearby 'his' web stating:

 

 "Please Do Not Disturb Gus"

 

Wayne helped make it clearer to me that I had to press on with my own story, with my own spider, finding my voice and inspiring others to find theirs. He was providing a surge of personal, soulful affirmation and energy that carried over into the next morning when I found myself  lacing up my Asics and inviting the once avid runner to join me for a post Twin Cities Marathon run.

 

After about a mile, my eye was caught by out-of-place colors along the curb. An un-natural shape and a palpable wonderment stopped me. It was a child's squishy toy, with a few legs missing. Two and a half missing... out of eight. I felt compelled to rescue it and at the same moment, knew who I had found. As I carried it in hand for the next three miles, suspect glances from passers-by on foot, bike and car met my eyes and his. Didn't matter. I had already resolved with a look up and a 'hey' to Wayne, that Gus was coming home. Yes, Gus. There was that tear again.

 

 

 

Fall turned into winter. Gus got comfortable in his 'web' and greeted us every time we came home; rain or shine. Or snow. He was always there.

 

 

 



 

Winter melted into Spring. And a couple days ago, I was blessed with a delightful Sunday morning run. Mild and sunny. It was definitely the kind of day you feel so good about, because in Minnesota, you earn it by surviving to see it! Hah. Though this was a rather benign winter, even for me, coming back from three years in Charlotte, there is still no better place to be on those kind of April days. A touch of light green shading the tree lines. Emerald-hued grass and blue wild flowers budding along the boulevard way ahead of schedule, looking like June, after a wet, mild Fall and other than a couple snow/cold snaps, a very North Carolina-like winter.

 

Then, two-point-four miles from home, there she was... along the curb; dirty, injured yet maintaining a goofy if not toothy grin. She'd likely been roughed up by passing cars and a multitude of other hazards. Some legs were missing. I'd seen this before and I knew just what to do. Wayne was around. Up there-over there-in there-around there... Sort of. All connected. Gus was going to have a new friend. So was Gusette.

 

 

I don't over-analyze these kinds of 'occurrences' like I used to. They just seem to transform into  contemplative ponderings that open up into fascinating places and spaces for me. Then I try and share them best I can. In fact, it is all beginning to weave itself into perfect sense. Some how, we are all connected by the divine wisdom of nature on this universal web of life. Just like the Creator designed it.

 

Sort of... like going... Home-Sweet-Home.

 

 

 

Well, there you go. One happy couple, huh? Sooner or later, were all coming Home-Sweet-Home. In the mean time, Doc., continue directing me to your wondrous creatures that need a hand. Or a leg. And keep a light on for us while we're still working on our own webs out here, OK?

 

Oh, and remember that 'bathroom poem' I sent to you many years ago? Now at least I know you read it.

 

Sort of...!  ;-)

 

 



In memorial to a dear soul from whom a treasured, old paperback found it's way into my hands and heart many years ago. We go way back. Now with awe and reverence, we go forward. I am very grateful. Namaste.

 

 

 

Dr. Wayne Walter Dyer

10 May 1940 - 29 August 2015

 

"Change your thoughts... change your life."

 

 

 

PS/  Yes, Gus is very happy! So is Gusette.   ;-)