Eyes Stark Open is now available for purchase.
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Pictures in the Sand is now available for purchase.
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As an Adult Education Teacher for nine odd years now it has been my great fortune to meet some exceptional people along the way. I have made some good friends on this journey and have watched them mature and move forward in life. I have seen some grow frustrated with the challenges they face and fall away from the goals with my sincere hope that they will eventually bounce back and achieve their dreams and aspirations. I have had some students whose choices have led them into incarceration but the worst thing I’ve experienced is seeing some bright stars taken out of this life far too soon.
Jade Starr Evans was one of those bright shining stars. I was saddened to see the obituary of this young woman in our local paper after Christmas, gone at the age of twenty-five. Jade was our student at the Adult School for some time before she moved to the High Desert to finish her education and she was well-liked by all. I had cut her obituary out of the paper and it was setting on the kitchen counter when my own twenty year old daughter came for a visit, saw the clipping with the photo, and exclaimed: “You knew Jade?” In this ever shrinking world of ours it turned out that Jade was the cousin of one of her best dance friends and my daughter told me that Jade was hit by a car that recklessly turned the corner while she was trying on a pair of boots in front of her home. Although the notice did not indicate the cause of death my fellow teacher told me she read an article that Jade was struck down by a hit and run driver and later died in the hospital.
It saddens me that our society seems to be seeing more and more of these hit and run tragedies and I cannot imagine how a soul could live with themselves after such an incident. I know I couldn’t and still feel badly about the two squirrels and the one cat whose lives were lost to the wheels of my own car more than twenty years ago.
The following is from our community newspaper:
Jade Starr Evans, 25, died Dec. 5, 2014.
Jade was born April 5, 1989. Though too young when she was called home, she lived a fulfilling life.
While attending Yucaipa High School Jade helped start the Gay/Straight Alliance Club which promoted love and acceptance for LGBT students. She traveled to Sacramento in 2007 and 2008 as the student representative for the Gay/ Straight Alliance Club and then went on to work as an intern for the organization.
Jade graduated from Hesperia Adult Education. Her friends and family will remember Jade as a woman who showed compassion and love to all those she met. Jade was also known for her witty humor and silly antics.
She is survived by her parents Dana Gopperton, David Evans and Carol Evans; siblings Collin Gopperton, Holly Evans, Aidan Gopperton; extended family Russell and Heaven Barrett; grandparents Kenneth and Patricia Gopperton, LaVenia Gopperton, Les and Erlene Whitehead and Millie Amundson; aunts; uncles; cousins and friends — all who will miss her dearly.
“Let the trials of life define you or rise above and move on. Happiness is a choice. Go get yours!” – Jade Starr Evans
Jade Starr Evans, may you continue to shine in Heaven as you have shown here on Earth.
On this date, December 26th, a Wednesday in 1956, my first best friend was born. Today she would have been 58 years old, but the fact is she never made it to her 20th birthday, having chosen to voluntarily shuffle off of this mortal coil far to prematurely. I have been unable to sleep this night as an old song plagues me. It is that Jefferson Airplane composition entitled Miracles and I ponder the connection that Paul Kantner and Grace Slick have with my inability to leave the past behind and embrace the comfort of sleep.
My cousin Carol left us too early but she has continued to be an inspiration to me, as I carom awkwardly through this life some call an illusion, although the tears and pain we bear prove all too well it is nothing less then real. Carol has been the catalyst for many of my poems and musical compositions, as well as my novel Pictures in the Sand, which is based upon a singular drawing she made in the dirt of the desert so many years ago after the ravages of this involuntary tour of duty left their scars inscribed upon her hopes and dreams.
Eight years ago, a Tuesday, on what would have been Carol’s 50th birthday, I wrote the following while contemplating what might follow this life.
“Grandfather, what is a soul?”
“Granddaughter, when our world first came into being the Creator included wondrous forms in the first mix. These forms existed for untold millennium as wisps that encircled our newborn world. They could feel the warmth of the sun and the cold of space but judged them not. The winds of space ferried them endlessly about. After a very long time life began to appear upon our world. First tiny creatures floated unseen in vast oceans living upon the light. Eventually larger creatures appeared until finally, one day, a creature inhaled the breath of the world and took in the wondrous wisp. This was the first soul. As the creature lived the soul learned of its surroundings. As the creature died the soul was released back into the realm of our Creator until the first breath of life once again captured it. And so it went for unnamed centuries, living, floating, and living once again experiencing the lives of our Creator’s works.”
“Grandfather, are not souls only the property of humans?”
“No Granddaughter. The unborn souls are more ancient than life. The birthing came when creatures imbued the breath of our world. This occurred long before humans came to walk upon this planet with his older cousins.“
“Grandfather, do all humans have souls?”
“No Granddaughter. The great prophet Black Elk once told me that our Creator had given only 666,000 unborn souls to our world. Since souls may live within any breathing creature only a very few humans may share their existence with one of our Creator’s souls.”
“Grandfather, what is the purpose of a soul?”
“Granddaughter, only our creator would know the answer to that question. Once, I asked Black Elk the very same question. He also said he did not know. He also said that he felt as if the soul was a gift from our Creator to connect all life. He also felt that the souls acted like teachers who would show us how to live life well.”
“Grandfather, do you have a soul?”
“I do not think so my Granddaughter. I am privileged to have learned from Black Elk what it is like to share one’s own life with a soul.”
“Grandfather, how is one who has a soul different?”
“In many, many ways, Granddaughter. A soul has shared the lives of many creatures and has developed empathy beyond the capacity of people. A person with a soul knows what it is to live the life of the least and greatest of God’s creations. A person with a soul does no harm to his fellow creatures or to the Mother of us all, our Earth.”
“Grandfather, are souls immortal?”
“Black Elk once told me that he felt as if there were now fewer souls upon our planet then when he was young. When I pressed the issue he could only say that it was a sad feeling, as if a good friend had died.”
“Grandfather, what other humans have souls?”
“I do not personally know of any.”
Sometimes I think that what happens after we leave this plane is exactly what we believe will happen. If we believe it is nothing then it is nothing that we will receive. If we believe it is basking in the warmth of God then that is what we will receive.
God bless you Carol Joy Harris on what would have been your 58th birthday. God bless you and forever may you bask in the warmness of His aura.
When I was all of seventeen I accompanied some friends to a carnival in Santa Ana. One of the girls in our little troop insisted that we each pay to have our fortunes read by a Gypsy fortuneteller that accompanied the carnies. Well, I never put much cotton in the idea that a person could predict the future and resisted but was finally pushed inside as the last of our group, all of which had previously exited her tent with smiles on their faces.
Inside the dark, yet colorful, tent I was encouraged to sit and offer my palm. The dark woman took one look at it and any vestige of mirth that might have been on her face immediately disappeared and was replaced by a look that might have been called horror. She then proceeded to consult the cards I selected from a Tarot deck and then some runes with peculiar markings that she had me warm inside my cupped hands and then release as if I was throwing dice. None of this brought a smile to her face but in the end she told me that she was sorry but I was going to die before my twenty-first birthday.
Now I often wondered if one of my so-called friends at the time slipped her ten or twenty dollars and said: “When Sam comes in you tell him he’s going to die soon.” I cornered them with that accusation and they all swore “cross my heart” they didn’t. Okay, if they didn’t then why would a Gypsy woman who made a living giving people good news would tell me I would be dead within the next three years? It didn’t make sense to me and after a period of what might be called grief or depression I decided I wasn’t going to let her fortune change my life, which is not to say it didn’t cross my mind a lot over the next several years.
I recently went to an Asian restaurant with my wife and two youngest children (21 and 19) and when we opened our fortune cookies my little slip of paper was blank on both sides. On our previous visit I had opened my fortune cookie only to discover that it was empty. Both of those incidents took me back to that Gypsy fortuneteller from so long ago and this past Sunday my wife and I had lunch at the Canton Palace and when I went to open my fortune cookie it was with hesitant trepidation. I opened the cookie, found a fortune, and read: “You will be healthy and wealthy in your old age.” That was so much better then no future at all.
In A Course in Miracles we are told that we are living in a dream and none of what we perceive is real. My friend Jerrie, who is in his eighties and refers to himself as a recovering Catholic, says that we are really lying on a grassy bank beside a river in Heaven having a dream about not being an eternal spirit. At sixty I have been thinking more about the end that is inevitable and, like Hamlet, I wonder if we will still be able to dream when the heart and brain stop functioning but the analytical side of my intelligence says no while the hopeful side wonders maybe. Then there is that other self who worries that what happens after death is exactly what we believe will happen. That’s just too frightening but would make a good story in the vein of The Lathe of Heaven.
In the Course we are told that Death has no power unless we choose to identify with it and that Death is not real. Yet, I look around me and I know that it is oh so real and oh so inevitable. Thirty-eight years ago tomorrow, the thirteenth of December, my cousin and my first best friend Carol took her own life and some seven years before that my dear friend Marsha had had enough of life and at sixteen she stepped in front of a truck to end the pain.
Are they dreaming now?
My 22-year-old student, who continues to inspire my writing, asked me just this morning: “Why is there so much evil in the world?” I found the coincidence curious as I was thinking about the very same thing on my way into work. I was asked only yesterday what my political views were, which has triggered a significant amount of gray matter to develop a inoffensive answer, but the frankness of her question begged me to throw caution to the wind and answer her query as I would see fit and I did. But first, a parable, if you please, from a millennia old story:
“There was once a man,” Grandfather began, “who lived in the old countries and was deeply loved by his family, his clan, and by all of the people as all of the people loved each other in those times before the great change. One day the man built a fence around a bit of our Mother Earth and said ‘mine.’ Now his neighbors had never seen a fence before and did not like the man’s audacity in claiming that a portion of Our Mother, who by birthright belongs to all, was his alone. The people sought the advice of the wisest of the Elders who concluded that the man had a sickness of the brain and advised the people to leave him be lest he cause injury to them. However, one of the Elders was also a gifted and trusted seer who warned the people of a great calamity coming to all and encouraged them to kill the man immediately, and tear down the fence and forget about it, out of their unselfish love for all of the people.”
“Grandfather,” his daughter asked, “what did the people do?”
“They left him be and damned all of mankind forever more.”
I explained to my student that I perceived the root of the evil that lurks in the hearts of mankind to be one of greed that is greatly exacerbated by the private ownership of our natural resources. I further observed that if we all worked together and shared our natural resources I do not see how things like starvation, homelessness, disease, and none of the poverties could exist. Not economic poverty. Not spiritual poverty. Not nutritional poverty. Not even the poverty of inadequate Love.
I was once telling a relation of mine this same basic tenet and when I was all said and done she looked at me in earnest seriousness and said: “But, I don’t want to share.”
If only we could get past all of the “I don’t want to share’s” and the “I need more, more, more’s” even after the accumulation of billions. To slightly paraphrase Eleanor Roosevelt: “No one needs to be rich but all persons need to live with dignity.” I think Eleanor was a very wise woman and worked hard to secure the blessings of dignity for all. Though that we could all be as wise.
Many years ago there was a television show called “Touched By An Angel” that many people know about. Fewer people know that there was also an album called “Touched By An Angel” that included the song “Dignity,” written and performed by Bob Dylan, that has always moved me. You can listen to this song on YouTube here: Dignity. For those of you who might be interested in the album it is still in print. The Songbook, however, has been long out of print and I feel fortunate to have a copy in my music library.
Here are the lyrics to Dignity:
Fat man lookin’ in a blade of steel
Thin man lookin’ at his last meal
Hollow man lookin’ in a cottonfield
Wise man lookin’ in a blade of grass
Young man lookin’ in the shadows that pass
Poor man lookin’ through painted glass
Somebody got murdered on New Year’s Eve
Somebody said dignity was the first to leave
I went into the city, went into the town
Went into the land of the midnight sun
Searchin’ high, searchin’ low
Searchin’ everywhere I know
Askin’ the cops wherever I go
Have you seen dignity?
Blind man breakin’ out of a trance
Puts both his hands in the pockets of chance
Hopin’ to find one circumstance
I went to the wedding of Mary-lou
She said ÒI don’t want nobody see me talkin’ to youÓ
Said she could get killed if she told me what she knew
I went down where the vultures feed
I would’ve got deeper, but there wasn’t any need
Heard the tongues of angels and the tongues of men
Wasn’t any difference to me
Chilly wind sharp as a razor blade
House on fire, debts unpaid
Gonna stand at the window, gonna ask the maid
Have you seen dignity?
Drinkin’ man listens to the voice he hears
In a crowded room full of covered up mirrors
Lookin’ into the lost forgotten years
Met Prince Phillip at the home of the blues
Said he’d give me information if his name wasn’t used
He wanted money up front, said he was abused
Footprints runnin’ cross the silver sand
Steps goin’ down into tattoo land
I met the sons of darkness and the sons of light
In the bordertowns of despair
Got no place to fade, got no coat
I’m on the rollin’ river in a jerkin’ boat
Tryin’ to read a note somebody wrote
Sick man lookin’ for the doctor’s cure
Lookin’ at his hands for the lines that were
And into every masterpiece of literature
Englishman stranded in the blackheart wind
Combin’ his hair back, his future looks thin
Bites the bullet and he looks within
Someone showed me a picture and I just laughed
Dignity never been photographed
I went into the red, went into the black
Into the valley of dry bone dreams
So many roads, so much at stake
So many dead ends, I’m at the edge of the lake
Sometimes I wonder what it’s gonna take
To find dignity