Sleeeeeeeping... (Billy Jonas)

Not sure why I'm continuing the Thanksgiving thread, other than the fact December/Christmas is right around the corner - maybe I'm still very much aware of the yin/yang of gratitude vs. consumerism, although we attempt to walk the line of giving and receiving love and appreciation without going into debt/stressing ourselves out (but that's a whole other post).

In the meantime, I recently came across this poem, which segued perfectly into the Billy Jonas song... and decided to playfully throw in a dose of tryptophan - sweet dreams!

SONG: Sleeeeeeeping... by Billy Jonas

BOOK: Healing Night: The Science and Spirit of Sleeping, Dreaming, and Awakening by Rubin R. Naiman

POEM: Sleeping by Daniel Sisco

Whether you think it's trampy or not,

when we are not awake,

we really are ALL sleeping together.

Sawing logs, snoozing,

getting a little shuteye,

some sacktime,

heading to slumberland,

doing the blanket drill,

the bunk habit,

having a siesta fiesta,

a pajama party

or just getting forty winks

and a good night's rest

We're all setting alarms, reading a bit,

warming our feet and spooning in,

stealing the covers, hogging all the pillows or

taking up the whole bed, grass mat,

hammock or our bit of dry earth.

Whether the satin sheets, fur or flannels

are on the futon, floor or igloo ice

whether we are naked, nightgowned

or wearing what we wore all day.

We have been doing this a long time together, alot.

Terrorists and tyrants,

the embargoed, enemies and occupying forces

within a few blocks of each other

lay down everyday

not only their weapons but their bodies,

anger and ideologies.

They give up. They surrender,

not to overwhelming odds or power

but to being... tired.

They know they can't win against it.

Something much bigger says

"I don't want to hear another peep out of you.

Now tuck each other in and go to sleep!"

QUOTE: "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, the death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast."~ William Shakespeare, Macbeth

God Is In (Billy Jonas)

SONG: God Is In (Billy Jonas)


BOOK: Seeing God Everywhere: A Practical Guide to Spiritual Living by Swami Shraddhananda


POEM: The Foxhole Manifesto by Jeffrey McDaniel

There are no atheists in foxholes.
-- old Christian proverb

The first god I remember was a Santa Claus god, who you only
turned to around Christmas time,
who you tried to butter up, and then got mad at if you didn't
get what you wanted.
That didn't make sense. I knew if there was a god, he could see
through us, like we were made
out of cellophane, like he could stare directly into our hearts
the way we look into an aquarium,
like he'd know what was floating around in there, like he might be
the one feeding it.

Then there were those people who used god to threaten you,
saying you better
be careful-- god's watching, like god was a badass hillbilly
sitting in some cloud
with a pair of binoculars, a cotton candy beard, a six pack,
and a shotgun.

Then I saw people who had Jesus' name on their bumper sticker,
like he was running for president.
And sometimes those people with Jesus on their bumper sticker
would cut you off
on the freeway and give you the finger, which is very different
from lending you a hand.

Then there were people on television, dressed in weird clothes
and scary make-up, swearing
they had the secret to god, like god was a keyhole and their eyeball
was pressed to it, and if I just
gave 'em some money they'd let me look, and then I could see god
just hanging around in his boxer shorts,
and though I liked the idea of spying on god, I began to wonder
if the world would be a healthier place
if the Romans had just put up with Jesus and let him die of old age.

And then there were the football players, kneeling down in front
of everybody, thanking god,
like he was their best friend, but then they'd jump up and spike
the ball, yell I'm number one,
and I'd be confused, because if you're number one, then
what number is god?

Then I saw politicians trotting god out on a leash, like a racehorse
they wanted to hop on
and ride to the finish line. But if they lost it would be god's fault
and god would be the donkey
they'd pin all their problems on, and that was very nice of god:
to be both a race horse and a donkey.

And then there were those who said you better be good on Earth
if you wanna get into heaven,
like heaven was the United States, and Earth was Mexico, and angels
were border patrol. Like when you die
you sit in a parked car on the outskirts of heaven, the engine idling,
your soul in the back seat in one of those kennels
used to carry small dogs on airplanes, as you listen on the radio to all
the people you ever wronged testify against you.

And then there was the church which was like this cafeteria, where
they served god to you on these very
un-godlike plates, but I wanted my god pure, and not watered down
by human beings, so I just had one of those
catastrophe gods-- you know, the one you only turned to in an emergency,
like god's the national guard you call in
to clean up the earthquake of your life. So I got drunk one night,
drove home, passed out behind the wheel,
woke up, going sixty straight at a brick wall, slammed the brakes, heart
banging like a wrecking ball in my chest,
staring at death's face in the bricks, close enough to see we had
the same cheekbones.

Now I have a god who's like a mechanic who can fix anything,
so when I wanna chew somebody's head off
like a saltwater taffy, or amputate my DNA, or open my wrists
like windows that have been painted shut,
I just put my soul into a box, like a busted computer, and haul it in.
And he never asks to see my paperwork,
or says my warranty has expired. And I walk out feeling better.
And I don't care if he doesn't exist.

QUOTE: "I pledge allegiance to the earth, one planet, many gods, and to the universe in which we spin -- interconnected, interwoven, full of harmony, with love and balance for all."