Physician Healer Teacher CommunityGrandparents
This section will start to honor my Spiritual Grandparents,
Elizabeth Gips and Paddy Long.
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From an email dated Thu Jun29,2006 9:00pm (PST):
I found this in a falling-apart copy of The Blotter, a newsprint
tabloid journal by the Psychedelic Education Center of Santa Cruz in
1980. Issue #4. I think Bruce Eisner was the publisher but I'm not sure.
written at Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant on a blockade/occupation
day before it went critical. June 30, 1979.
Within me
Buddha Isis my beloved Avalokiteshvara
who is also Kwan Yin
dance
and Satan who is my fear and transforms to Lucifer
of light
and Jesus strides deserts within my cells
and is crucified of desire
and radiant mother moves her legs in labor
giving rainbow birth to me
who is mother
and I tell you, world, my wonderful. delicate jewel,
that we shall shine through many births
and be transformed into many gods and myths
and explode, radiant, out to the beckoning stars.- ELizabeth Gips, 1979
feel free to spread and post, just credit her!
thanks, judith ((Elizabeth's daughter))
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" ..from our heart
the entire universe is created and uncreated with
each intoning of the phrase
the beads remind us of our herbful (earthful?) level
at the same time i am here with the mala beads i go
up
open the doors on all of the levels on all of the
"other levels" until they are one
then i reach ONE where i am no longer betty
but godhead itself
coming down my joy and love were so great that i
cried and cried
i wanna leave a note to other people
that's why i'm writing this it's for me too
i wanna say... ACCEPT YOURSELF
for you are me and we are *Beautiful*
if we can make love to the world
the world will love us back "
.........Elizabeth Gips
(thanks to Char for this one)
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Subj: a poem I wrote today
Date: 98-02-19 02:03:30 EST
From: changes@cruzio.com (Elizabeth Gips)
When I get tired of learning computerese
I will write another poem -
a poem for trees, a poem for birds
a poem for humans shipwrecked on the shoals of their desires.
My breath will return like winds across the sky,
my fingers will twig and branch
birds will sind in my heart
and people will rest peacefully in its feathered warmth
cradled by yet unborn suns.
When I am tired of machines and learning
perhaps I can sing with the stars again.
--
No path, no home, no enlightenment. This is the final death and from it
bloom eternal New Beginnings. - Elizabeth's Book of Now - 1982
http://www.changes.org
Changes Radio: KKUP, Cupertino, 91.5 FM, Tuesdays 2-6pm
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