Loud Speaker Lullabies

Doh!

What does this animation have to do with what I’m about to say? 

Nothing.

I’m in a really good space right now.

Why?

I was just in the best psychiatric care unit I’ve ever been in my life. It was Indiana University at Methodist Hospital. The place I was born ironically. I had to go because I was having heart palpitation and was not sleeping.

So there are many nightmarish posts in this blog because past experiences in psych wards and staff and psychiatrists and medicine were all scary haunted house experimental guinea pig in and paid for a ticket kind of experiences that let’s just not “keep telling out sad stories.”

The first thing that I noticed while waiting for a room upstairs was a lullaby over the loud speakers. I ask the ind nurse what that tune meant. She said it was a baby being born.

Was I being reborn. I had a feeling of death. Like your so tired you think you faint but you don’t but you can’t sleep. IT’s scary. They believed me when I said.

I hear things.

I feel more than I hear.

My right temporal lobe turns on sometimes & I feel you?

Beings touch me and heal me.

I have telepathy with some people.

I have a parallel universe relationship with a man I have never met.

I have prophetic dreams.

I feel people staring at me.

I can talk to dogs and cats.

I feel like I am in a movie but everyone knows it but me.

I think Jesus is here or I am Jesus but I don’t really want to be more like Jesus had kids related.

I have astral traveled. I was adjusted by aliens that looked like us.

Sometimes I have three heat beats. One is James, One is me and sometimes one is Eddie.

Or shall I say, Edward James Almost?

I’m not sure of these things at all because I can’t prove it quite 100% unless the others feel the same way. I am a scientist and that’s how i roll. I’m not crazy. Just open.

I got scared people didn’t lie me or my Quantum Entangled twin could be upset and the man next door is trying to torment is one reason why I was not sleeping,  hospital. No police would help me. They are kicking me out and I am happy to go. I want only good things for m now

The hospital let me say these things without making me feel bad .No comments about giving me meds for my imagination. 🙂 hmmh?

They had art. The doctor listened to what meds did not work and what did, she gave them to me. There was a nurse outside my door at night. I felt loved. heard and healed. I can’t tell you how much I loved my psychiatrists. ME!? Really.

She was like a Mother figure. They even let me talk to a priest about the things i feel and how to understand God.

One night they let me look at this blog, my blog on a huge ass tv. I mean big. It blew my mind. Look at what I have done? I was so proud. A nurse came by and ask what I was doing and I showed her a video of you. Then I watched a  few scenes from SC & RnR.

She loves that song. She wrote the site down and seemed interested. No psych nurse ever ask to see my art. I just sat there not wanting to write but to star at the colors the

décoration d'art

the way it looked, it looked like something that should be a film.

Then i said goodbye to friends and my family picked me up! My family!? We went to the head shop first thing. My 73 year old Mother looking at glass pipes and bongs. It was awesome. They told me to lunch and shopping for food which I didn’t have.

I’m on meds I can stand, I will just testify at how great

LITHIUM is….

At low does of course and a benzo. That’s all I ever really needed was those anti anxiety as needed when things spin faster in my head and heart I can stand. And if by any chance you are feeling the same thing darling…I”m happy to go for you too.

Thank you for everything IU Methodist C8 ward. God Bless you all.

And thank you for being there every night and when I would get scared you would go away.

And thank you Universe for being birthed there. and fro that star chaser and for being born again in the same place.

Doh!

 

 

“As If Someone Could Hear”

I’m in love with someone I’ve never met, yet,

he feels like I’ve known him for lifetimes.

I’m in love with someone I’ve never met, yet,

but his heart is not mine.

I’m in love with someone I’ve never met, yet;

he’s my imaginary friend.

I’m in love with someone inside of me til the end of time.

I’m in love with this feeling that lets me feel I’m right to be,

Me.

but……

I’m so confused.

I’m so frightened.

To say the truth.

What a fool I am. I have no real proof.

Yet,

I hear……..

(Keep going)

but more like feeling than a voice.

He waves through me when I’m lonely.

He just now kissed my lips.

(I love it when you do that)

He holds me tight when I’m in pain.

He speaks to me in a heart beat in my throat.

or funny whispers that pop in my right ear,

as warm as a snugly coat.

For so long I was scared to have him come near.

(Please don’t hide. I’ve waited so long)

God said, she said

“Go with what you know.”

(hint, highlight the above to understand)

(I’d never hurt you)

Your all I know.

and if you have to, it’s ok to go.

(I’m Lonely Without You)

Was it God’s idea to give me this magic that comes disguised. 

I am so sure you feel it when I look into your eyes.

I am so sure you feel it because sometimes I feel YOUR cry.

from My eye.

(Say it)

Simply & purely,

I’m in love with the voice in my head, although it comes through the heart and grows out of our third eye.

How this happened I don’t know why.

(Maybe Quantum Entanglement darling)

I don’t know anything about physics, nor do I have a word that rhymes.

(Neither do I)

You make me laugh like……..

But still I can’t prove he hears me back

is why I hide.

I’m not a very good poet and you know it.

I’m not good at getting to the point

and things don’t often rhyme

but I guess it’s time for my simple mind to write it down.

golden chalice. 

This is my ……

way of coping, til someone else comes along.

 

P.S. How does 2+2 = Number 6

I don’t know why but I seem to like it.

😀

Miracles As Small As A Mustard Seed

The Cannabis Seed

In this blog I have written about my search for a natural medication to treat emotional issues.

I feel that the most beneficial medication for my depression and anxiety is

Cannabis

The point of this post is not why it works for me but why can

…..One day I’m dwelling in The United States in a city called Seattle and can purchase marijuana legally, safely and compassionately.

…..Then one day I undwell and move back to my hometown, still in The United States of America and I can’t buy it legally, nor is it even being considered?

We all know marijuana was given a bad rap in the 30’s by some drug enforcement agency guy man whose name need not go down in history, but it was all a scam against the Mexicans I believe and hyped to the general public as a bad bad thing.

You still see people say “drugs” as in illegal drugs and they keep cannabis mixed in with Heroine and Cocain and drugs that kill you, not the mention the legal drugs that kill you and the alcohol that can kill you if not in moderation.

What’s wrong is what is turning right and yes cannabis has been on the planet for thousands of years. It was a common plant with many uses….. Which is a plant that can make paper, rope, oxygen, food, medicine etc etc…if I keep writing I’ll just get mad.

I will say that in Seattle I was glad.

So why can’t I go to a store and buy it Indiana and when will someone run that will put it on a ballot so I can vote for them?

I get really touchy when I think of the following….

1. How can you be a US citizen and obtain marijuana legally and why you can be a US citizen and not obtain marijuana legally?

2. Why can people buy alcohol which cause many deaths per year.. If a US citizen can buy a bottle of wine, why can’t I grow I smoke or eat or drink a plant? Remember the Tea Party?

(I really don’t)

🙂

3. Cigarettes are legal and they cause cancer and marijuana is not legal and it can help those who suffer with cancer?

I do see the light at the end of the tunnel. Many states are seeing the revenue and how it can help create jobs and taxes for the community and even education, not to mention sick people and taking crime of the equation which is a biGGie!

I’m a bit touchy today because I live in Indiana. A state that is predicted to be the last state to approve medical marijuana. And that makes me sad.

But everyone is already smoking and there is the lawyer neighbor next door who is a great father and wonderful husband who enjoys a toke in the evening with his wife after kids go to bed….so, yea

But he is too scared to come out of the closet and let people know he wants change. Maybe it’s not that long away after all.

But the marijuana God’s shine upon those who need it.

A kind family friend always gives what I need as I have depression and nightmares and PTSD. She knows it’s the only thing that works when things get bad.

The last week I have had night terrors. Often marijuana helps one sleep and not dream so much at night. It certainly helped me out of bed today.

She gives me what I need and never asks for a dime.

So why is this all a crime?

One day this post will be history.

I’m sure.

Thank You God for that Green Plant that will now help my aching back after writing and making this video for four hours which I would not do this week because of my depression.

For more information on cannabis:

Norml.org.

This was a public service announcement that you never see on TV.

Thank you Pearl Jam for letting me steal one of your songs.

GOT SOME!

A Natural Eye For Beauty

I saw your photos and thought it would be fun to put them to music.

It helped me on lonely long days.

It’s hard for me to type and continue to pretend. I can’t do it anymore.

I wonder if Merlin could help me with my problem. A potion perhaps to see the truth of you.  Something to make me forget?

I liked making this for you. Your photography is very beautiful.

“For one bright and shining day, there was Camelot.”

 

Photography

by

James Callis

 

 

Who invited Neil Young?

Standing Inside Emery Blagdon’s Healing Machine

Dear Emery,

Today, as almost everyday, I woke up to great psychic pain, depression, hopelessness of the feeling of impending doom. I did not know what to do with myself. There are no forests to walk through. There is no family that comes calling. There are only haunted thoughts of the illness of depression and mistreatment by psychiatrists for ten years. My brain feels like it has been hypnotized into believing I’m insane. The drugs I took for over a decade have damaged me in ways that I can’t describe. A nightmare of the heart and mind because there is no where to go now to seek help from the horrors, the trauma and the abandonment of family and friends. It seems that sleep is the only escape. Upon awakening, my heart begins to beat fast, I feel as if I’m going to die, because each day in this lifeless home I live, feels like repeat of the day before. I have been praying to God to show me the way, every moment. I can’t write anymore because all that comes out is sick and sad thoughts.

I forced myself out of my bed, the only place of comfort and paced around this dingy apartment that has an evil smell I can’t seem to remove. The fragrance of loneliness, lost of peace, loss of creativity and hope that my life will always be this way. Alone and in poverty with no real family to bring chicken soup. The feeling of the voice of God said to turn on TV. I watched a preacher I like talk about how my brain is a super computer and that the pain I feel is a virus that has been put there by a less than happy upbringing, true love that never came, losing everything I loved because of a bad pill a doctor forced upon me..all these things the preacher said can be deleted. Just push the delete button. Let no one tell you that you are worthless. Let no one tell you that you can never heal. Delete these thoughts. Delete. Delete. Delete. But it left me a bit cold. How does on delete past trauma. Has does one delete the moment when my grandson’s mother took my grandchild away because of the stigma of mental illness. I can’t delete the love I got  from that baby that I took such great care of? The preachers message was helpful, but does not change that no one calls me.  No one cares about my psychic pain and that the city I once lived in that offered me Orcas and tress and festivals, has also been  poisoned by institutions and abuse.

I lay on my couch, in the dead fragrance of the room that no incense nor sage will take away. What do  I do now? It’s Saturday. Many people are out enjoying the summer. I can’t. The heat is too much to bear and I can’t breath in this mid western weather, nor is there any art at all  to look at. I see myself in the mirror and there is art there. The portrait of a flower that is slowly losing it’s petals. The image of a ghost of a woman I once was. The bright talented woman who tried everything she could to get out of this dead end town, only to end up back here for what seems a long and lonely death. Something has stripped me of all my tools. My only friends are imaginary now. I feel like I’m aging backwards. But my body is disintegrating.

By sheer will to watch empowering stories, I recorded a program on PBS about your healing machine. Something in my heart, that loved me said, “watch this program.” Something inside, something loving, made me turn to the program about you and your healing machine. I held my body pillow with a child’s pillowcase on it, embroidered with the words “sweet dreams.” The moment the tale of your life began to unfold, I felt you were an angel sent from God. You suffered great pain in your life. Losing all those you love to cancer. You became an anomaly. You endured your loneliness and non normal ways by building this incredible machine in your barn. You found things that no one else wanted, like old TV’s, wires, appliances. Anything that was not wanted anymore. I feel a connection to you as I believe inanimate objects have feelings too.

What was most amazing was that you had cancer for ten years. You refused to see a doctor as they never helped your  family. You didn’t bath. You lived unconventionally and with great purpose as you built this amazing machine with lights and metals and elements. Even using discarded containers from your pharmacist friend. I found that very poignant being that pharmacies nowadays can vend poison to people. You never cared if you were unwashed. You never cared what the townsfolk thought of you. You had your healing machine. People would come and feel the magnetic energy in the great work of art that no one had ever dreamed of. Beautiful rainbows of lights reflecting off all kinds of metals, even old pull tabs from soda cans. You incorporated beads from my childhood, colored sand, and works of art that you stacked upon one another as a kind of battery for the machine. The people who loved you could feel the cool air raising from the Earth under the machine even though it was very hot outside. There was something true and mystical coming from you that made the healing that was coming from the machine.

You died of cancer in 1986, leaving no will for what you had left. You true friend, the pharmacist, went to bid on your machine and he saved it. Thank God for that man, because now it resides in a gallery and has been lovingly preserved for the world to see. The art community came in droves to witness your genius. Your invention to cure your own psychic and physical pain. How wonderful for the world to have left such a piece of outsider art for like minded souls to gaze upon. But how sad to me that you never lived to see what that machine means to many now. I knew I Ioved it when I saw you had used the old fashioned Christmas lights that I remembered shone hot on extremely fragrant Christmas trees as a child.

Today Mr. Blagdon, you are a new hero to me and even though I can’t stand under or witness your art in person, the reflection of your alternative and quite radical machine and views of healing, will stay with me forever. Thank you for leaving behind something so odd, so strange that it can’t be ignored. And thank you for taking all the unwanted things,like wires and lights and junk and color and turning them into etherial art. The thought of you heals me today. I was sad when the program was over, as the only thing to do was to write about it. Much better to write of your gifts than to constantly have to tell my own stories of pain. If my apartment were big enough, I would start my own, as my Father was an electrician and maybe could provide a psychic blue print of my own healing machine.

I always wondered why I would pick up trash and sticks from the yard as a child. Now I know, they have energy to give and nothing has to be wasted. If someone, like a psychiatrist would see me build this unbelievable work of art, today I would be hospitalized. Thank God, you didn’t live in that time where someone could come take you away for being unique. Maybe someday I will get to see your machine. Until then, I will keep the half broken strings of lights in my bedroom window to remind me of you.

OMG! Moment…

Later in the night after I wrote this while speaking to an angel friend,  those half broken Christmas lights popped back on!

Emery, you must be a very funny angel! xo

God bless you Emery Blagdon.

Now this essay is over, and I’m sad it is because I need friends like you.

xo