Inside the Mind of a Trans(cendent) Artist

Archive for December, 2016

The Gift of Being Present (For Someone Whom People Shun)

One evening, while riding the bus to work, I was talking with the driver about social issues; his choice of subject. After several minutes of listening to him talk about how some big revolution needs to happen to avoid being trumped during the next 4 years, I told him, “Nzo, we don’t need something big. We simply need to smile more at each other! Simply taking the time to really look into a stranger’s eyes, and smile, may have such a profound affect on the global human community, (similar to the way a butterfly’s flight in Nicaragua may alter the course of a typhoon in Japan), that we cannot begin to fathom the favorable, Love, and Light generating consequences.”

A few days later, the evening had shifted into night, by the time I reached 5th, and Mission. When I arrived there, the rain had stopped too, the rats at the old Mint were coming out to find something to eat, and the homeless were finding places to settle for the night, in hope of getting a sleep dry, and deep enough to ignore the cold throughout the night. I departed from the [San Francisco] Chronicle corner of the intersection, heading northward to the southbound MUNI stop across the street. I slowly approached the stop, looked to see that the LCD readout of the upcoming bus arrival times, and saw that I had enough minutes to casually walk up to the next stop, at which I thought I would feel safer, that night.
As I began to leave the stop, a short, apparently homeless, filthy, and DEFinitely remarkably deranged Asian man passed me, apparently on his way to the bus stop also. He was ambling about, “rambabbling” [rambling + babbling] in his native language, [which may have been Cantonese], and he was remarkably feral in his wariness of other people. I looked him in the eye, smiled at him, said, “Hi!”, and sauntered away.
Halfway up the block, I heard footsteps approaching, from behind me, on my right side. Very soon, I saw the footsteps belonged to that man. They fell right in step with mine. Clearly, he intended to walk with me, as he continued his rambabbling.

We walked together, casually making our way toward the next corner, which was at least 50 yards away. I had no clue what he was saying, but I could sense that he really needed to be heard; so, as he spoke; so, I calmly looked him in the eye, and really listened. Very quickly, I could see incredibly deep gratitude in his eyes as he knew I couldn’t understand him, but that I was willing to really BE with him, and to listen to him. Frequently,  as he spoke, he gave me a quick questioning look; questioning if I was really listening to him. As we reached the half point of that short journey, when it was clear to him that my attention was mostly, and quite receptively on him, he apparently began to outpour a sincerely big part of his heart, of his pain, of his struggles, of his dismay, perhaps of his loneliness…

It was a sad conversation, but I was mindfully in it, and we just shared that time like two friends; one listening, one venting. As we neared the next intersection, I told him “I wish I knew your language, so I could understand what you’re saying”; and he continued to talk, and I continued to look him in the eye, and to listen to him.

When we reached the intersecting sidewalk. he stopped walking, almost as if on cue. I turned to him, paused, and listened to him finish his final sentence to me. He looked at me with gratitude so deep, it was almost palpable—simply because I had taken those few minutes to allow him to be heard, without judgment, or a need to get away from him. I smile to him again, calmly waved goodbye to him, said “Good night!”, and walked across the street to the next bus stop. He went his own way too, I know not where; two children of the night, receding again into their respective Shadows.

Although I don’t know where he went to, I do know that he was gentler, calmer, and a man with increased inner quiet, after our conversation, than he was before it. All I did was to let him walk alongside me for half a block, to treat him like he was a normal person—and to have a genuine conversation with him, even though I had zero clue about what he was saying. Being present, and being Love was all that mattered; that’s what he needed, that’s what he hoped for, when he approached me, and that is what he deserved.

Like butterflies, he, and I changed the world that night. Neither of us will be the same as we were before that, because we had a pure Love exchange. I simply decided to just be Love, and to be truly present with him, and, with me being present, he allowed Love to help him to release some of the pressure that caused him to rambabble sometimes. In my space, I held space for him, and I will never forget the “Thank you!” that was in his eyes as we parted!

This holiday season, give someone the gift of being truly present with her, or him! If some place, some time, you suddenly find yourself in a similar scenario, don’t run from the “bum”, even if he, or she smells awful—if the smell is so acrid that is literally hurts to breathe, I wouldn’t linger, however, I wouldn’t be less loving. Just Be Love by allowing Love to Be through you, in Her Silence, in Her receptivity, in Her strength, and as Her Presence. If you really wanna change the world, remember, in the midst of your great plans, and preparations, sometimes, all you need to do is to

just Be Love!


Written by Alyras.
Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.


The Worm That Saved a Child’s Life!

It was a warm, rainy, December night in San Francisco. During a lull in the rain, I was taking a break from providing tech services for a client, strolling across a mostly empty parking lot, pondering something, in intimate conversation with Spirit. As I stepped over a worm that had made its way 1/3 the way across the parting lot, Spirit said, “Pick that worm up, and take it back to the soil” that was along one side of the lot. As I continued walking, I thought, “That may have been me. It was just a worm.” Ugh-ugh; nooooo—Spirit wasn’t having’ it!! With clear seriousness, She said, “Go – Back, – Pick – Up – The Worm – And – Take – That – Worm – To – The Dirt!!” When God speaks like that, a certain feeling comes with whatever the message may be, that compels the listener to say, “Abort!” to whatever she, or he may be preoccupied with at the time, and immediately get with the Divine Program; which is what I did.

Immediately, I stopped, turned around, and went back to find the worm. It was not easy to find either! After a couple of minutes, I found it, then located a flimsy, but adequate piece of straw with which I could pick it up. Carefully, I picked it up, and, with it hanging on a part of the straw that was nearly about to bend downward, I slowly walked toward the fence that ran along the side of the parking lot that was closest to me.

The fence was basic chain link, with plastic slats vertically woven through the holes, somewhat like pickets. When I reached the fence, I was going to simply place the worm on a sliver of dirt at the base of the fence. But, Spirit said, “No; put it on the OTHer side of the fence!” The straw was too flimsy for me to use it to flip the worm over, or through the fence. I wasn’t going to hold it, and toss it over. So, I carefully put the straw between two of the pickets, just to see if I could use it, (against practically all odds), to leverage the worm to the hill, immediately beyond the fence. When I withdrew the straw, the worm stuck to one of the slats. That made it easy for me to gently flick it into the dirt, and grass beyond.

As I returned to my stroll, I asked Spirit why that particular worm was soooooo important. She said, [paraphrased], “There is a child who has cancer. He is going reach the point where he may choose to give up hope, and die. The worm feeds the bird, so the bird has the energy it needs to be outside that child’s window, singing, instead of looking for other food. He needs a bird to sing to him; its song will elevate his hope, and he will choose to live. …He has something for all human civilization, and he must not die!” I thought,“That makes sense!”, and pondered that answer as I walked the 50-60 yards back to the entrance of the building to which the parking lot belonged.

Several hours later, circa an hour after dawn, I was out walking in the parking lot, again, deeply pondering how to facilitate major disaster recovery, [from a computer crash]. Certainly, I was not being mindful. On the fence, near the building’s entrance, a bird sat, repeatedly singing a simple, bright, piercing song; as though it was trying to get my attention. For me, the song was way in the background, however, as I neared the building entrance again, I became fully conscious of the bird being there. I greeted it, and shortly after I did, it jumped up, and gracefully glided along the top of the fence, until it reached the spot where I had flicked the worm. There, it looked around, and disappeared on the other side of the fence.

eat-worms3Now, I can’t say that it was the bird God intended to send to the boy, BUT…
I think that particular bird having breakfast is why God was so remarkably insistent on my getting that worm to the other side of the fence.

THAT was a FAT, juicy worm;
the worm that saved a child’s life!


Written by Alyras
Copyright 2016. All rights reserved


“His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me!” are words from a song that is well known in African American churches. It is based on the following scriptures.

“Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.”

~ Yésus Hristo/Jesus Christ
The Gospel of Matthew 10:28-31

God cares so much about that little boy, that His Spirit had someone from the top of the food chain take a creature from the bottom of the food chain to where a bird could eat it, so the bird would be where it needed to be, with song–a strong, worm-fueled song. Considering how clear, and penetrating that bird’s song was, [if it IS, in fact, “the chosen one”, I am deeply honored to have participated in greatly advancing human civilization by doing such a simple act for God.

Here is one rendition of the song: