Daily Journaling in the Maintenance of My Spiritual Condition -BDF

29 Oct

Originally posted on Genesis Sober Living - Recovery from addiction based in Spiritual Principles - 310-839-5457:

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Be grateful for everything you “get”. Be grateful for everything you don’t “get”… It’s the only way the Universe can really do with you what is limitless and magical, from the infinite. You can’t take only the “good” and reject the “bad” as defined by a finite mind… Rejoice in ALL results, because they are the loving way of God.

There’s really nothing to “GET”. It’s an illusion. None of this life is “MINE”… I’m a caretaker, a custodian, given the privilege of looking after it all with loving gratitude. I receive as much as I’m willing to use on behalf of love & service.

I, despite the odds, have never stopped believing i could fly, the way children do imagine themselves to actually be living the lives of superheroes, secretly, patiently awaiting the perfect time to take to the sky. It’s more fun, that’s for sure. I think a…

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Latest BDF Photo Shoot with Pamela Corey

29 Sep

Latest BDF Photo Shoot with Pamela Corey

Latest BDF Photo Shoot with Pamela Corey

The Ride UP to NOW

18 Sep

1986 was a pichet de bière, a pigidh leanna, a bucket of ale in a quiet pool room at 211 Union street, Seattle, a worn Kerouac paperback, a black pompadour, a beat leather jacket, a steaming manhole cover, a littered alley, a homeless Lummi drunk named “little Jesus” a ferry ride just to be somewhere water-bound, an acoustic night in a sweat smoke cabaret, a laying sprawl in a downtown doorway for the night with my boon, bum parties in Pioneer Square, and a theatre of plays un-played, where i was taken in by the visionary red jesteress, and the ride began with a crashing momentum, hitting the shore years later and washing it all under, beating me with my own devices. I hovered there still, in vapors and called to the sea.

Alastdare’s ghost dragged my soul up from infinite grains of sand, re-shaping me, infusing to me his sight, seeing finally, we, out of body, quickening, sprung up from the muddy core through a time tunnel, onto the wet banks of the river Beauly and Glass, alongside a “Beaulieu” stock bridge in Easter Croihill, where the living and the dead pass, one hour before cock crow and the “silver water” flows for capture, and in Gaelic incantations, his towering 7 foot spectre whispered to me his instructions for my direction, like a verbal machine gun, I could barely catch it all in the excitement:

“Turn your eyes outward, seek, turn your heart’s desire aloft, listen, give good care, love, tolerate, wait quietly, without complaint, return to the water, watch the waves, count out the sets.. 20 will clear, 14 will roll slowly, 11 will come to take you out and rise, and you can carry on longer and higher than any that came those short years lost in the mists. The tide be your ride and guide… Be patient with yourself and others. Take time for respite where the waves enter the earth, take the cave for internal reflection, withdraw to hear the Mother’s heart blood coursing and racing around you, and in you… Remember the Bruce, watch the spider piecing the geometry of his web, the spider knows the friend in time and consistency better than you. Note the design of creation’s spiraled rocks and shells like ears to hear the winds words…
Now, you know your fight, so let’s have REAL fight, a fair fight, and don’t short change the great promoter in the heavens… be a thrasher in the ring, give ‘em a good show, but WIN, land on the ropes, but WIN, take a chin check like a champ but WIN… listen to this old wrestler, and make good on my investments. None of this is for you anymore, what comes to you is your debt to me and the Father, you only get to keep care of it for us, and each one of the golden gifts you’ll manifest is for us, for “them”, for “her” for “it” for others, and you’re the lucky custodian, greenskeeper and caretaker of the House. And if I catch ye astray frae duty, i’ll lay me foot down hard on yer tail, laddie, and tolerate no more mischief than what we all would bear in the spirit of fun… hear me now…” In Norman French he weighed in more, “Vous êtes prêt mon cher fils, me rendent fier et à travers vous, je vais me sentir vivant à nouveau” (You are ready my dear son, make me proud and through you i will feel alive again.”

-BDF

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So grateful & privileged to have all of these gents stand with me. Thank you, Brent David Fraser #BDF

7 Sep

So grateful and privileged to have all of these gents stand with me. Thank you, Brent David Fraser (#BDF)Pamela Corey shot these and more, see more of her work at http://pamelacoreyphotography.com

So grateful and privileged to have all of these gents stand with me. Thank you, -BDF
Pamela Corey shot these and more, see more of her work at

http://pamelacoreyphotography.com

An Open Letter to Paula Deen

28 Jun

Originally posted on Afroculinaria:

An Open Letter to Paula Deen:

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Photo Courtesy of: Johnathan M. Lewis

Dear Paula Deen,

So it’s been a tough week for you… believe me you I know something about tough weeks being a beginning food writer and lowly culinary historian.  Of course honey, I’d kill for one of your worst days as I could rest myself on the lanai, the veranda, the portico (okay that was really tongue in cheek), the porch..whatever…as long as its breezy and mosquito-free.  First Food Network now Smithfield.  (Well not so mad about Smithfield—not the most ethical place to shill for, eh, Paula?)

I am currently engaged in a project I began in 2011 called The Cooking Gene Project—my goal to examine family and food history as the descendant of Africans, Europeans and Native Americans—enslaved people and enslavers—from Africa to America and from Slavery to Freedom.  You and I are both human, we…

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Brent David Fraser – The Mirror – from CD Albion Moonlight and the Sea of Troubles

27 Jun

It’s about a father and a son and the alcohol that stood
between them… i’m told you’re in the way i use my hands
and in the way my mood and anger play.
i’m told you can be seen, when i’m expressing what i mean,
that you would say things the same way.

you’re in the way i’ll take an afternoon to think,
you’re in the way i love my music with my drink,
in almost all i am and all i do,
i am the mirror that you never looked into…

i’m told you can be heard in my loud laugh,
that when i speak of god there is your voice.
that you’re stumbling with me, when i am drunk so happily,
that it’s genetic, but i still say it’s my choice.

i’m told you’re probably dead and gone by now,
yet more in me each day you are revealed.
in your spiritual design, there is a pathway into mine,
but it’s overgrown, the more that i am healed… -BDF
©2013 brent david fraser, Stratherrick Publishers, all rights reserved (ASCAP)
#FREE #DOWNLOAD at http://brentdavidfraser.bandcamp.com/track/the-mirror
from Albion Moonlight and the Sea of Troubles, released 13 March 2012
Brent David Fraser – Lyrics, Vocals, Acoustic Guitar
Martin Blasick – Producer, Lead Guitar, Bass Guitar
Glen Thompson – Bagpipes
Peter Del Giudice – Drums, Percussion

Albion Moonlight and the Sea of Troubles

22 Jun

Brent David Fraser:

#Albion #Moonlight & the Sea of Troubles, lyrics a #drunk or #addict may relate to, #willing http://wp.me/p32UJ4-3D via @GenesisSobriety

Originally posted on Genesis Sober Living - Recovery from addiction based in Spiritual Principles - 310-839-5457:

Albion is a precious being, prescient and prone to seeing

everybody’s deepest  inner fears.

sometimes he gets too tired to take it, swallows anything to make it easier to live

through all the tears… and nervous laughter. 

born to love the fountain pen, ridiculed by other men,

turns his anger all onto himself, with deadly skill.

and though he knows no true escape can come from any grain or grape,

he can’t resist the potions we distill,

it’s  like trying to roll a millstone up a hill,

it’s like trying to roll a millstone up a hill….

 

 at twenty, with his brave ambition, set upon his chosen mission;

writing down in stories all he saw. 

loving people, so completely, finding girls who’d so discretely

monitor his drink, ‘til he’d withdraw into his own time. 

for several years he struggled there, preparing his electric chair

and all of these distractions…

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