A Call to Women of Cannabis

21 Jan

There is a growing movement of #compassionate spiritual healing in the #Cannabis world. I believe this movement is best led by #WOMEN; as individuals, couples, or groups. If you live in NW Washington or Southern California, and are interested in leading in this cause, contact me about how we can make that dream real. While suffering children, Veterans, the seriously ill and disabled are denied access proper treatment to relieve their condition, my work isn’t done. Tell your friends.

My Mission for the Human Condition

8 Dec

I incorporate Nonprofit Religious Entities and advise, consult and promote & offer regulatory compliance services for Spiritual Healing Centers, Temples, Ministries and Church Centers of any denomination or open faith. While suffering adults and children have no access to proper treatment, my work isn’t done.

With 30 years experience in all media, humanitarian, civil and personal fields of Spiritual growth and a thorough understanding of all Federal Laws and protections, I am amply qualified to assist. Contact me, I love the work I do for others: 424-285-4612


My Highland Heart (excerpt 1)

2 Jan

Growing from a naked wee bairn I was shaped & hewn by elders of heroic character and stature to their measure of grit, panache and solidarity. They transmitted and fused their silvery traits into my wee mind via the gutsy, soul soothing tales of our forebears. These were luminous legends that had thrived and grown through the refinery of generations, in just that same way; well cared for and communicated from the mouths of raconteurs and  orators in each era. We do like to regale.

Countless drizzly nights by the coal fire set the climate for these tellings to tot sized ears; a Clan tradition and purpose from its beginning. They branded me in the bold history of Fraser life in our wet homeland in the Highlands of ancient Alba, bonnie Scotland. They gave me my place in our living, breathing saga. They educated me about the entire glorious journey my kin had made; the multiplying, cultivating, soldiering, enterprising, striving and thriving that landed me on our gruff spot of earth.

They told me how some suffered as well with the great number of Gaels in the cultural destruction following the failed ‘45 uprising and Culloden. With numbers as great they left our historic origins in Inverness-shire and ‘The Aird’, Stratherrick, Strathfarrar, Strathglass and Beauly to find adequate living in each new place from Edinburgh, Lanark, Liverpool, Keith, Glasgow, New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio, Montana, to Washington and California, restoring honor to the name.

Learning of the bravery in their chronicles uncovered inborn laws of constance, allegiance and devotion to the “blood of my blood” and “bone of my bone”. I haven’t found family passion quite this deep or high in other people, except a few shrewd others, I mean really, very few. And it seems more likely that before I could even speak I had this love affair for our souls’ true home. Once the flood of our blood bond awakened I’ve carried it into every fight and fray.

Mind you, where the goal of love is concerned, it has been the women in our family who have held administration of its place and lore of ancient dedication to the ethereal, mystic, and poetic spiritual love as the center of our millennia of searching and finding the twin to our souls. Not every woman who’d taken the name had lived that fate, but there had been larger than life figures historically who had. They are the the genealogy of that law for me, right down to my grandmother; That’s where I was given the words to understand that truth in myself anyway. There are an infinity of soul types made, but as to ours, we are the ones branded in eternity by the fulfillment of that sole purpose of existence.

All through my tender youth, those same paternal and maternal elders also delivered a certain axiom that I only wrestled to understanding as a result of demoralizing excesses in my gluttonous years. It went like this: “Whenever you’re moved to find fault or inferiority in others’ lives or loves”, they warned, “always center your mind back on the fact that the majority of this world don’t have anything comparable to the blessings of family, history, and privilege you have… you are obliged to growth & improvement for yourself, your life and the Anam Cara wife that a great fate will bring to you. It is compulsory… required…”

 I pondered how the poker game of that song, written for Scarlet a couple years after the first time our fates separated us in 2001, played out for my eventual wife and me and how powerful it can be, had been, to write words that would become truths in life’s realities, and how I was living with the results of the fragility of our magical tale that I hadn’t comprehend in a timely way, netting the very opposite results today to those written in the lyrics, all ‘permanent seats’ then gone.

As I sat there on a single bed in a room I shared with two other gentlemen, tapping out this account on a keypad residing in a Houston, Texas recovery home for addict and alcoholic men, then separated from my wife for 3 months, trying to be attentive to the divorce she pursued for what was effectively a 48 day marriage from vows and hand-fasting to the date of separation, it still seemed unconscionable that this was real, for starters because having had no other claim to esteem, pride or accomplishment in this life that I’d care to have mentioned, no greater grasp of intimacy, no deeper sense of connection ever, than that of the twinship of our Anam Cara souls, and well over the detox and recovery to sanity from the tornado of my alcoholism, I suffered the darkest pit-of-earth depth of withdrawal and desolation in being apart from her, so spirit and heart crushing, impossible to comprehend; an end to all the life I ever truly cared to own.`It is there that I can still shudder, and that is the hot flame that recoils my hand, in thought, of ever touching alcohol again.  

In the saddest irony, my incomparably compelling wife was and is singular in her ownership of Fraser in every aspect of name, spirit and history. Without hesitation she deeply embedded it to her heart and soul as her own, always hovering way up above all others with less than that nature, who consistently failed in their ill-equipped attempts. Scarlet had dreamt to be a Fraser since her teens. And she has always been the only one rightfully born to it.

The moment I met that shining light of a girl, thirty four years after my birth, it was clear ‘the one’ had arrived. And she revealed to me that same property she also carried all her life, given to her before birth, brought here in her flesh to restore it to its other half in me, in this life of ours, as we knew we had done in countless others. But even so, it would then take the journey of many years to make her my bride.

We’re eerily alike, she and I. We think same thoughts at same times and have each other’s inspirations, feelings, fears and passions. We both naturally take solace under the watery awning of spirits, sensing the wood faeries, or chasing deer in the glen and all Fraser fixtures of salmon in the current, strawberries in the field, charity in our actions, song in our hearts and poetry in our souls. Neither of us recall ever missing that manner of being, deep set in the sinew of our flesh, from toe nail to tip of the head. It’s that stamp that shaped and built us with a rare sense of place unknown to most everyone, and it’s always been hers with mine.

“Of all the vices, drinking is the most incompatible with greatness.”                                             -Sir Walter Scott   

In addition to that love affair I’ve romanced vices far worse and most of those alone on the darkest road I’ve ever known. But as I write of this love and all its beauty I get a sickening shudder raking through my thoughts, turning them upside down to rip open and expose the darkest most painful walk I’ve dragged anyone along. My soul rips and screams at what I know I can’t get away from confessing to you next.

Twenty two days before the day I decided to write out this story for anyone who’d want to read it, I made a horrifying decision to drink alcohol… again… after having drunk again, and again, again, ad nauseum. I say horrifying, because it flew in the face of the definitive knowledge of the inevitable consequences, under the insane misperception that it would be different this time, that I’d only have a few. What perplexes most people without exception is that it’s somewhere before the first drink that the insanity has already begun. It’s because I am “that type” of drunk that it should horrify any sane person.

I don’t ever drink “normally” anymore, those days are gone. After I’ve had the the first one, I drink ravenously, as a beast, devouring my own life in the delusion that I’m feeding from a palatable source outside myself, while taking the poisons of my malformed psyche. Igniting, imploding and then exploding my world, my relationships, my loves, all perceived as potential traumas coming my way, that like an arsonist I must incinerate before they can discover who I really am, see me, and hurt and kill and discard me.

I’m the sort about whom people, even other alcoholics, say “He did what?? WOW, man, that’s insane, literally insane, scary, I had no idea.” Yep, that’s what they say. The effects are bad enough that along with an excess of minimally tolerable episodes in more than the last year, this singular 8 day long event would have everyone we know or are related to tell my wife to never be with me again. Ever. Never. Except my own mother, of course.

I will describe in detail the blow by blow of the event later in this manuscript, but for right now I’ll say that it has seemed, does seem, or perhaps is something over which we miraculously claim triumph in the fullness of time, bearing unbelievable pains, heartaches and sorrows. The tears I cried left me dehydrated everyday.

And although the shock to our apparently idyllic existence was at first the ugliest surprise imaginable in the context of our marriage, we came to see that we’d been long set on a course to collide with a number of namable and unnamable parts of US, but most certainly defective elements in me are what I focus on because they are the only ones any one person ever has the power to change. If I’m not the problem, there is no solution.

You see, the hardest fact of the matter is that I hurt her and scared her and she was terrified and afraid. I showed her something in me, some frightening horrible place of darkness and aberration that she’d never seen and didn’t know could exist in me, nor that all of its fury, defensive attacks and self hatred could come out voicing itself at her. That caused her to fear for herself and created an instinct to think this also meant there was every reason to be as cautious as possible for the protection of her kids, her babies, and though she and I know that I have consistently shown love for them, all of that was trumped by the slightest chance that my untreated inner monster would be let loose by another relapse in their presence.

It took a lot of work and time to make this good again, to be worthy of trust, to be secure, peaceful and comfortable to breathe easily again. The possibility that I may never get it to revolve to turn and face us with a place that we all could have again was my biggest fear, but I was willing to do whatever it took to earn that. So even with no guarantee of anything but the wonderful life I would end up with either way she decided to live, I went forward with that vision of the end in my mind, as I had done with everything I ever won or achieved in my life. The first and ultimate item obviously was to stay sober and invest everything I could in the things that bring the magic and surety out of life in sobriety and spread them everywhere. To be an example for myself and others, to nurture life admirably and be of loving service in its heights and depths. If I was to again have her accept my love and be open to whatever portion of my dreams were still able to flower and grow, it would be in doing those things for their own sake, and the sake of living my amends. I have nothing that I cherish that’s truer than loving her, so I did that gratefully with all that it took to give her happiness, security, trust, safety, peace, joy and love.

I sure didn’t do it perfectly though, I made it even harder starting out, because I didn’t stop and stay stopped in the first couple of months. I apparently needed to repeat the exercise of loss, and meditate on causes, hurts inflicted and failures for more days than seemed right until the overriding truths of our love and purpose restored their law in the permanent memory of my heart, and regained spiritual power over the withering reach of everything else my transforming ego would assert for its control. I surrendered the defects to God and accepted the privilege of serving love in all things.

The deeper issues that stirred the monster had risen up to range in origin from distant past, to young man, to “adult” and right here set firmly in my midlife, in our house right down to some of the impositions placed on our union, or reunion. They had been a seething but unseeable, silent ball of confusion until the weeks and days, and the very day of my terrifying episode. My traumas made fears that made pains that made anger, resentment, guilt and shame. Hardest to live with was knowing how short I had fallen, repeatedly, of being the husband she deserved. The damages of my defects and short comings had been far reaching and varied in where they appeared as worse, worser and worst… and the worst was to have forced the one being I love most in my life to be gravely hurt. It gave her no choice but to have battles with fear, hers and mine, and have to fight, suffer terribly, resent, retaliate against, lie, distrust, demand answers, face, inspect, and fearfully, hesitantly but with the slightest eventual willingness accept them, not as an excuse but as reasons. To watch and not watch the rigorous growth that without question had be done by me or nothing at all of ours would be salvageable in this lifetime… and then to let it all go…

It can be said that it was the two of us in a tidy unison that ultimately commanded my malformed horrors gone, but the greater truth is that it was she alone who facilitated my turning the crucial, crushing information to transformation by an immovable love that for a time she would not speak of as still alive. Even when I sometimes tried to displace onto her the ownership of my part in all of it, while she was also struggling to own hers without having to exonerate mine, she loved me with all her heart.

It is the nature of codependency and the codependent to stay focused on the biggest threat visible in its space, for fear that self inspection or admission of anything will allow that threat to run rampant over them again, and that was true for us. She had those fears and I had them too and the battle of wills and whose hurts are more valid descends into a morass of fruitlessness. As each tries to get notice for their own valid hurts, they feel that any effort on the part of the other for that goal means the story is being “turned around on them”, not seeing that there is room for both of their hurts to be recognized, they have to be. Because by design it is a dance between two, there is no exclusion, no side is better or worse, each one is true.

We both regarded the obviousness of the fact that I had to be cracked open, broken down and forced to descend to the dungeon to unchain the better self I had masked for so long with “justified anger”, resentment, fear, guilt, shame, remorse and self pity. That put forth its purpose more clearly than any one side of any of it. Those were all the obstacles that would become the way through them, to the path of walking a free man and living in the God given dream of our life together. It was plain to see also that our bond  had been made partly to exist for all of these reasons, for the sake of these soul lessons, and the greater good of it all in the next end.

In time, time, time, I will have come to fight to recover innumerable losses, some I still fight to recover today in that ongoing living amends to the worlds I shook with terror. Those of our history and family principles, and their good favor, those of simple life coping skills I had somewhere let go for dealing with post traumas, those of social codes that maintained grace and dignity for everyone involved, those of spiritual codes with which I had been gifted from the beginning of this life. All of these are what I gave and still give my daily attention. I make each day an ongoing hunt for attitudes and actions that enlarge my self respect, earn the respect of others and primarily rebuild trust, love and peace. I work to walk with liberty in this life of loving service, and establish our new sense of home to heal our family, but most of all I work to discover and earn the will of my wife to love freely again.

To my humble amazement, as time passed with sufficiently revealing evidence of true healing and transformation, the only transformation that ever gives anyone a lifetime of strength in sobriety; the death of the old self to the metamorphosis of the new self, we have been able, and blessed, in measured increments, with a day by day absence of drama and discord, to recover some of the US we once held central to our lives.

It was with new bravado, even audacity, that I began a freshly drawn contract with integrity, humility and esteem. My Anam Cara was my strength, my purpose, and its meaning. My eternal, her essential presence in and all around me enlisted every new tool that could be formed inside me to fulfill the mission I can only now know was necessary if I were to birth my best self to appropriately love and serve her. After some time she would tell me she always knew that man was in me. It had been painful for her to see him while I couldn’t. It was healing to have that self grow and take command of his life and it’s blessings. And the ancient love that called it forth.

A number of new measures were taken on in practical things like how to listen, and if to quarrel how to quell, to fight well, honestly and fairly… cultivating and inspiring good mood, good will, passion and fire for life, loving openly, having gratitude, giving kindness, helpfulness, avowed devotion, compassion and generally walking in the sunlight of the spirit.  I made no aim to change anyone or win over the cynical, or any detractors or actors to this side of our world, but at the turning point everyone was warned; anyone near me and us would unerringly be hearing more on top of much about the GOOD in everything. And by that example we’d shine a light of hope to others.

I tend to be ever the optimist. Even when the chips are down I’ve got this almost pushy, persistent voice keeping my mind on the best of the record; hadn’t I always found my way home? Hadn’t there always been a light in my shadows? And hadn’t I always landed back on my feet? Wasn’t there always serendipity, surprise riches & triumphant comebacks? And hadn’t I, when I owned our timeless truth, always known our love? It couldn’t be that I had simply been a lucky man. It had to be instead, if I would again remember, that I had always been loved with a force so great no road block could bear its power. Although you can give generous, loving support to people in battles for inner gold, it’s undeniable that at the last it’s a dance we’re each going to do alone if we’re to escape the prison cell of our own making in our hearts and minds. It is rare that we see many come back across that river, and its for that fact that we find it soul gripping when we do.

When all of it came to truly be about something bigger and better than me; serving the good, the love, the team, the bigger picture… when the work turned from “have to” to “get to”, when duty became privilege; that’s when I could feel myself really “back in the game”. That’s when the more skillful playing began. Because it’s only when we win the elusive inner property of the soul’s sense of liberty that we gain the ultimate power to determine our destiny.

The Declaration of Arbroath in 1320 still lays out the most articulate guideline for me; “It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that I am fighting, but for freedom – for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself”.

She is truth and beauty to me; she that shines in a self owned bubbling essence of pure being, has an intoxicating scent, a taste, a touch of an electric air, a vibrance, a spell, a way that comforts and inspires me like no other creature could. So, yeah, I jumped to fight these battles inwardly and outwardly.

She’s the reason a man as turbulent and combustible, but let’s call me passionate, would even dare to crack and tear his long held false self open and pull out the ugliness hiding his better nature and character to authentically offer them to her. She’s the reason to confront my shame and abandon useless old tools, and build up a life of meaning and value at all, around her and for her, and her children. Because once Scarlet was here, my path would never mean as much without her as with her. She didn’t arrive here to replace or become my mission, but to clarify its true meaning. She was here as the catalyst to my seeing it as I hadn’t quite seen it ever before.

Without question it’s the un-quiet voice of her always ignited fire in me with which I would tell you our tales as they’ve met, diverged and rejoined; hers, mine, ours, and the magic and miracle of truths held in my beloved. Hopefully it would compliment what gave birth and rise to all of it. At worst, we’d end up with a stark, rigorously revealing narrative of every twisted thing about me and my dark shadows that I’d rather you not have learned if I could only have avoided it…

In the beginning is seemed the mass of wreckage that had been wrought was insurmountable, but there I was, in a life I will have scattered far from every valuable property I’d held, for whys and wherefores I couldn’t catch or comprehend until nearly too damn late in the game. That episode of post traumatic alcoholic explosion and implosion that cost us everything we loved and lived for until it came out was overcome in its own way… It was like a mountain casting a long shadow over an otherwise magical land, and by some measure of grace we progressed out of its dark reach to see it fade in our rear view mirror. What that means in the longer run will be seen.

It is often repeated in recovery that drinking and drugs are merely indicated symptoms of the deeper-rooted shortcomings cultivated in an addict/alcoholic, and while chuckling at the parody of myself and his monstrous creations, I had for long been able to inwardly assert that I had some kind of impunity in knowing the joke, with a cavalier wink, and that was the ignorance and falsity that ran roughshod over my life and everything in it. It influenced the direction of my manifestations in immeasurable ways while I held for so long that it was all a part of the “play”, without questioning or self-inquiry.

Believe me that this story does not constitute or aspire to be another tragic tale of battles with substance abuse. If what I have come to find were simply that, I would not seek to bother anyone with it by hunting and pecking out another bound printing to heap upon that over fed pile. What I have come to find has been more astonishing…

But, Lord… that I had only had enough grace to avoid this manifestation altogether. 

My Highland Heart (excerpt 2)

2 Jan

More about my Scarlet Queen of Hollywood:

December 1, 2016

I float adrift, as is my pose, from birth

With masks I use to shield my heart from mother earth,

Her dangers and her pains, like choosing when she rains

A deep water self, a tidal flowing firth

I’ve kept one want, and not surrendered dreams

That haunting light that whispers with its beams

A love I tasted young, when my worn heart had me hung

With no objections but my silent screams

She’d been the one to know my mind like hers

While I was cultivating my cool curse

The tragic I held dear, for reasons made unclear

Each downfall like a cold coin in my purse

Sounds foolish, but I missed her held out heart

Almost from our first moments, from the start

Afraid of her warm power, her light could make me cower,

And, I only knew to hide mine and depart

For years rolled into more years, she kept place

Her mark on me has always gripped its space

Through journeys of the heart, in lives, we, worlds apart

Her essence always there, to trust and trace

So, as tables that will turn keep turning ‘round

As lost to her I was, I now am found

I’ve always said I’m free, the truth is I fear me;

I sang a King’s soul songs, dying, proudly crowned

She sought me out, from fire our union burst

Fast finished with our lesser loves lived first

To call upon our past, end separateness at last

As, finally, I was set to end my thirst

Sometimes universal magic hits a height

Surpassing all one ever thought it might

Unfolding deep held wants, or holiest of haunts

To realize old dreams brought back to light

I watch her face, her big brown eyes that smile

I feel her caring heart that does beguile

She kisses away my fear, to touch my need brought near

Our souls we wed, we finally walked the aisle

I’ll never leave her, never let her go

It’s something I don’t have to try to know

She’s in me, like my breath, and will be until death

My name was meant for me to her bestow

It’s only she that shakes these pledges free

Or makes this living valuable to me

I’m fortunate, I know, it’s always come to show

God’s magic is reserved for us to see

To our legend, our mystic law I give a smile

To greatness I’ll make home, as it’s my style

To love; command of His, be loved, that’s all there is

She’s first and last, and has been all the while

On August 20th, 2016, Scarlet McDonald and I were finally joined in marriage. It’s the fate we’d known fairly immediately we were born to. We had the sense of Divine plans that guided us together, apart and back together for, well frankly, eternity.  So, this was another pretty momentous day, and in this life, like so many others, we each married our best friend.

To one another we were married long before that day and from that date forward, forever married we’d still be. We are one. I mean, it really is that our souls were made or formed together in the pit of a universe sized Great Spirit forgery; an origination that ordained our union for eternity, the same kind of way our land, our ancestors and all the Celtic Saints had convened to bless it, our inevitable reunion in this lifetime.

From there to here… from the beginning of there…

In the spring of 2001 I was “rolling in it”, as can be taken to mean a number of things in the context of that time, but I mean it here to say I was flush, ahead, winning the game. I’d filmed a pilot for a VH1 show that picked me up but didn’t ultimately pick up the show and I had just been paid out on my pay or play contract for 7 episodes I never had to film. I’d just started receiving my residuals for an NBCi dot com advertisement I’d finished about 6 weeks before and the 13 week cycle was proliferating like a rushing river on the airwaves, and the checks were flowing just as nicely. I’d just moved into a lease to own home with my best friend and guitar player Derek Frigo and we’d been recording our album under the band name U4EA in our $200,000 living room studio with producer and other roommate Dave Hensey. We had money, cars, musical and recording equipment galore, great songs, meetings with record label heads, and bright shining horizons ahead… Oh yeah, and we’d started to use cocaine in all of its various forms and been doing so for a few months after having been clean and sober for 3 years each. We were the after “Rainbow Bar and Grill” party house for all comers, we had 4 dealers hitting our house per day at about 6 hour intervals, and we had friends and girls who came and went, blew up and hailed out, while we steadily went on at professional level, seemingly immune to the downfalls others suffered in our midst.

Scarlet had been brought to me. I mean brought to my home anyway, where on any night our place would house any number of Hollywood vampires strolling through our den at all hours. She looked like glitter. She glowed. She was dreamlike. At 22 years she held a charming, graceful confidence that was meant to propose a more sophisticated version of her character, but ended up an inverse display of its intent that was utterly compelling. You’ll catch me using the word compelling in reference to her maybe overly so. In truth, I was captivated. But i faltered a bit, just coming off the tail of a recent romantic failure, well, let’s not say failure, but at least a hindrance to getting full grasp of the gift of her, or, rather, the ability to declare, or claim such a grasp.

She didn’t care, or pay it any mind. It didn’t matter enough to even make mention of my shortfall. Scarlet just stuck right to me, and she stuck, and she stuck, right by me. From the first night under the illumination of Christmas lights strung around our studio/living room, bouncing soft light off her body like a visible aura, into morning and every day onward, we were inseparable, gratefully, happily so.

She insinuated herself into the soul she knew was naturally awaiting her caress inside of me. Beyond my hard guard of heart, beyond my masks for fear and hesitant pain, she knew. She knew way before me, before I consciously could. Scarlet had the vision that originated and relocated us to each other in this lifetime. She had already perceived the arc of our play having been to meet in that very purple painted, velvet couched, teacup poodle pattered Hollywood rock n roll love manse. And we with our immediately, telepathically communicated love for the theatrical lived in and out of the characters we pulled out of one another from the places we shared within. Finding our freedoms in the shadow selves we courted as vehicles for an intensity of connection physically, spiritually, emotionally that I had never before conceived of, and have never since attained.

That is where Scarlet became separate from all others, enigmatic, a phenomenon unto her own. Carrying childhood traumas deep set below my consciousness, blind to my memory, but dictating behaviors and feelings I couldn’t always account for, where intimacy and sex were concerned it was always an emotional strain proceeding into it, and always passing through a shameful doorway coming out of it for reasons I could not yet know. Scarlet’s arrival ended all of that simply, without note or comment, it just wasn’t there anymore with her. There was no balancing of power, no struggle for position, no guarding, no gaming. We were loving equals from the first moment, from the first kiss. The first time we even made love was with all our clothes on and it was soul stirring. And I never really cared much to be anywhere but with her after that, though I was careful to keep hidden what I feared would make too vulnerable a man out of me. She didn’t push for it, she knew, she had me in moments that made clear all other moments were owned by her as well. I loved that comfort.

My identity as Albion became more alive than ever, even as I was a bit of a “Wounded King”, to her “Healing Queen”, it was only Scarlet who could coax me away from any pain and into her heart. This was our ancient ritual, this was our sanctified ceremony, this was our punk rock trash bash, and our simmering sweet serenade to the diamonds of truth and beauty in what we fast became to one another. This was where we first acted according to the manner of the blood of our blood, and where we racked and rattled our shared soul house in the bone of our bone to let our bodies do what our spirits and hearts and minds would always by need and law have done.

Scarlet brought all of my vibrance to life, she knew our entire story like she’d penned it, and at times was the sole holder of the what had yet to be awakened in my head. I always refer back to the the Waterboys’ song, “The Whole of the Moon” because I was the the one then who only saw the crescent. Scarlet saw the whole of the moon. She was Angel to my intrepid demons, instrument to my song, the deliverance of an ideal I had previously only hoped to realize, an ideal to whom all others before and after her would be compared and pale.

And how by dear God could I lose her then you may rightly ask, or let her be lost or fail her grace, you surely MUST ask that, I’ve asked it more days than I can count. It won’t suffice to reduce it to the simple flaws of pure and complicated stupidity, density; the better masks of shortcomings, fear, or an “undeserving man” complex… over and over lamenting her absence with only the feeblest attempts to make known to her that which had not been known… that she was the one… she became the one that got away, or so I thought. The universe, God, providence all work in the most “magical” way sometimes.

It’s never eluded us why the Celtic relationship to the ethereal, the mystic, the profound poetry of spiritual love is central to our millennia of seeking and discovering our twin soul. There’s an endless number of soul types formed and flourishing out in eternity, but as to ours, we are the ones branded in that infinity by the fulfillment of that singular purpose of being. She knew that well. And that is at least one thing I knew too. Our resonance together spoke that like a constant hum. Like a banging drum. like a vintage guitar playing a sacred bar where the pentatonic pulse gives a shiver.

This vibration, this language of ours is like excruciatingly exquisite, long foreplay, throughout a whole day, as intense as being with, touching, seeking more of the core of us, in all my thoughts she is the song. I am full of blood, I know she is there like warm breath. I won’t release it, I live and feed on her, it hurts almost, waiting, sustaining… her sweet hands, her warm center all bring me into her, to home. My home.

Infused with brilliant gold liquid fire blazing, we feel a burn by candle light, red rose lips bit as we lovers sit face to face, eye to eye, cheek to cheek, flushed, and speak soft staring, seducing, inducing, intoxified, intensified, mesmerized… the marrying mouths, hearts dancing feverishly, frenzied ripping clothes, racing pulse, pounding vibration, rhythm.. our dance of tangled bodies pressing deeper, locked, pressurized, pleasurized, tender, sweat, sweetness, surrender, liquid life flows over in pools of love, perfect unity. That has always been our way.

With a gut smashing, sickening regret I sit here, in these current days of tale telling, so many years later… Just try to imagine knowing what you know now, what failures of character and twistings of temperament, heart, and mind would it take to cause in our existence an event that had been long building and foreboding, so fragilely cresting as a wave of darkness, that I would have to bring it forth to break my very self. I would trip my core into a test for the stamp of centuries, for the precisely calculated mystical love that joined us, in order to rupture my psyche and crawl through to the over-acquired, obsolete gristle and dreck that had built its home there, that if I didn’t would always hold me short of loving her to rightful capacity. It was a haunting roll of dice, a fateful throw of the runes on par with triple seven gamble this soul of mine chose to push us both into, the meaning of which we had to know would come to pass and be revealed, but how? When?

As I have consistently trusted her better leading of our souls to union, her clear grasp of our greater purpose in this song our hearts are always singing; anything short of founding and owning the depth of my ability to grab hold of her in the same places she grabs me inside, and carry and nurture her, carry and nurture us; that was the only path toward making our corner of the universe sit right and balanced for good. It was only by killing my self and giving birth to the new that I would be the man she is made for and she deserves. Because it would forever be an intolerable disgrace to the God that made us for one another not to do all that it took for that.

She told me at the beginning of that process that she has always known that man in me, whereas I had yet to find him, or recover him, and even then I was ripping open only by the call of her anguished disconnect, and the needful demand by her essence to bring out of me that which she knew I truly am. Another ‘Scarlet knew it first’.

We’ve followed our guiding spirits, and even the shadows, and even in separations we always will do that because that is who we are in the theatre of our soul stories. Scarlet could command my ailing Albion to become healed because she is the trigger on the God-shotgun that first blasted me into the correction that gave me proper comprehension of our love, honor and the honesty that I wasn’t meant to see otherwise. This was never about surprise, it’s always been about the way we chose to play it out on this muddy ball afloat and spinning ‘round these cosmic starlight painted skies.

And at last, if for nothing but her ready crimson voice, the light of her eyes, her smile that fractures the sky, her laugh that shores up a convivial deficit in any room, her tears that bring our Angels to weep and her heart gripping hold that would infinitely assure this weary man of his true purpose in her. Even the full and raw, crashing wave of her soul eternally enmeshed with mine, are just the mere beginnings of what Scarlet is to my Albion. She is a law. She is my law.

So, yeah, after getting all that out, I’m certain you must know why we call it destined and we say it was due. Like I said, ordained, in every practical way. I won’t say much too affirmatively about what God will do but that one must concede that he brought her as my gift from an old life for the new life in me. If I only know one thing it is that. Of course I went about it all in once again brash, bold, newfound strength, and she being every ounce of beautiful and breathtaking in the fire of her red hair, flashing of her white and blinding glow like the sparkle of a faerie, WE would together always fight beyond the roar of a vast crowd of opposition from the very first, to the very last, into our well won, and hard won dignity, victory, and into the glory of our finally fulfilled, beautiful dream.

Our love has been our journey toward God; and you may be surprised to see me say it’s scarcely begun. As we’ve grown and keep growing to meet its size and stature, we just keep listening and praying that our self-concern and importance become lesser amusements the more we keep in mind the design for our lives and the many more wee bairns we prepare this world to hold. We let our faith grow in our sacred place out on this Highway. We learn more that we can advance down it with deepening peace and confidence. We know God has us protected; that we need fear no evil or critical people or tough situations. And we let this destiny we own be our Creator’s great gift.

Each new day we welcome each opportunity to do some little thing that helps to make us stronger, that brings our Maker’s wish for us to unfold. We take any day’s happenings, good or bad, as reasons to act according to that beautiful purpose. That’s what’s brought our blessings to flow. Figuring out what service to the “Big Guy” who moved the Universe to spin us this personal eternity is just a way to share in His work. It is the nature He built into us to do such wonderful things. It took a long road to get here, a monumental effort to tear up and rebuild this foundation clearing away all past defeat and destruction. It was sometimes only the strength of love we couldn’t even find in desolate moments that pulled us through.

I guess I will have to take you all the the way, way back to fully inform this story with what it’s come to mean to us, our family and to those who loved and supported us in the magic.

So… where to begin…?

My Highland Heart (excerpt 3)

29 Oct

I have a fear, an impending tear, I’ve created some grief for the Gods

For all those who’d said that I chose to be dead, she could see I have beaten those odds

My best love’s been lost and I’m paying the cost of fears, masking my heart and my dreams

and as a pretender I’ve had to surrender to see beyond life as it seemed

in the name of my father, the wealth of my mother, I beg for my reckoning of sins

I pray to God my real life may begin, I pray to God my real life may begin

I have a love for great facts held above all I think, or I feel, or I dream

For all those who thought that I fought & ought not, she saw that the Gods are my team

But life’s old expected has been resurrected, And became what couldn’t be done

An anti-hero who tosses this greatest of losses, change that can’t and could never be won

and as a pretender I’ve had to surrender to see beyond life as it seemed

in the name of my father, the wealth of my mother, I beg for my reckoning of sins

I pray to God my real life may begin, I pray to God my real life may begin


Brent David Fraser, first 5 minutes of a 1 hr interview in bonus features of the film Dark Side of Genius DVD, about his WHOLE CAREER, & Secrets no one knew.

5 Sep


#BrentDavidFraser, first 5 minutes of an hour long interview in the bonus features of the film #DarkSideOfGenius DVD (#ScorpionReleasing), a full hour talk about his WHOLE CAREER, and some Secrets nobody knew. This clip is a great first story of how, as a teenager, he decided to follow his dreams in the Entertainment Industry, with the nudge of then friend, now deservedly successful actor, #BillyBurke. #CathyHenderson #ClassOf1999 #TheChocolateWar  #FinolaHughesBDF Finola Kiss

I Wanted You

30 Aug

I wanted you, you were “the one”,

If any I could have,

I wanted to live, live in your sun,

And right that I should have,

I wanted to love, love without pause,

Best that I would have,

I wanted peace, peace for our cause,

Like all of the good have,

Now all want is that you’ll look at me,

With some of the magic that you used to see,

As back in the days when I was a knight,

And you were my Princess, and love was our light,

Back then what I wanted brought fear, I was haunted,

I’m begging that now this will last…

I want what can never be lost,

and never be past…

Oh, Angela, oh Angela, oh Angela…


©2016 brent david fraser, all rights reserved

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