Transforming my poetry manuscript into a prose vignette manuscript has been an eye opening experience. Bottom line, I like it much better. If I don't like it, how can I expect anyone else, too. It is good to accept reality, that you are writing prose with poetic aspects rather than straight poetry. As I mentioned in a prior post, it's a form of accepting reality.
We also cancelled our Y membership because we have not been going. there are other ways to exercise, andplaces (I prefer outdoor basketball, anyway). Another example of facing reality while saving some money.
The I Ching and Taoism suggest accepting reality and realizing that thinghs cycle in and out. We must go with the flow.
A strange thing outside my window: huge butterflies keep settling on one particular flower. Why that flower; there are many other flowers. I feel that there is a message in this. What does it have to do with the theme of this little essay? maybe nothing.
When I finally accept reality, I find other ways to get my needs met, like calling the rec centers and asking them where I can find outdoor courts with other kind of activities happening at the same time. That's what I respond to. When you come up against a wall, you can keep bumping your head against it fruitlessly, or find a way around it.
I could cite other examples of this principle. But I'll stop here.
Oh, another butterfly out there, a Monarch. Perhaps they are conveying a message to me. Well, now he is on other flowers, but remaining in plain view, close to the window. It's not that single flower, but his (or her) presence seems to me significant.
Another example of facing reality: that i cannot stand idly by as an artist without responding to the violence and extremism now rampant in our land. Hence, this new original song, which I will perform tonight.
America, America
Where are the people who care about the land
Where are the people, willing to lend a hand
America, America, my heart remembers when
We put aside our differences
We dared to dream again
...
Than lying or manipulating or stealing in the night
America, America, my heart remembers when
We stood beside the innocent
When greed was still a sin
America, America, my heart remembers when
We weren’t afraid to speak our minds
We dared to dream again
The world is changing faster, can we remain the same
Tolerate injustice and we play the blind man’s game
(This is Patrick Frank's original song. You can use it with permission. I will give you chords)


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he world is changing faster, can we remain the same
Tolerate injustice and we play the blind man’s gamet