Awaiting Ascension Juxtapositions

Are we living breathing time capsules waiting to be opened by future generations.

Alive. Merely existing.

Unquiet extreme desperation for something more but we don’t know what that more is. Blend in. Blend in. Like a Chameleon. Validation mode on.

Fire Salamanders emerge from still hot ashes and charcoal bits whence Paul dipped his hand yet brought back his hand unscathed by neither flames nor poisons.

Creator demands that we be broken down into our Essential Elements.Are we really primordial primates amphibian reptiles species awaiting Rebirth into the next level of Evolution? Sentient beings searching for our next form.

Next pattern. Next Dimensions, Galaxies and Multiple Universes.We 20th Century born sat at the feet of our Elders absorbing our family oral traditions. Treasured Griots sharing knowledge, wisdom and understanding.

But how will our 22nd Century descendants interpret the Throwing of our old bones.Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. Long abandoned Blogs filled with dusty forgotten posts on desiccated lives. Forever seeking release from a wireless tangled Matrix.

Will we stand the test of time?Or will Haramattan Sirocco winds blown from Pyramids and Sphinx wipe our Talking Heads from the Akashic Records.

Homage to Eden

Tears at The Oasis

Tears at The Oasis

This painting is dedicated to the Mother of a 15 year old Son who has Autism. I wrote about our laundromat encounter on my writing Blog.

May this painting bring hope, comfort and encouragement to All Caregivers for family members who are special Needs or who developmental disabilities.

Here’s the Link to the companion Post.

Pause for Thoughts

Trees Crying at The Oasis

For in Seeking Refuge They Find None

Tears Overflowing into Rivers of Sorrow

Abandoned….Left to fend for themselves

We Carry Our Loves, Each One Alone

While Others Cheer Far off in The Distance

House as Memory Palace

Organic Chaos Continuity

House as Memory Palace

Swallowed up by a Forest of Memories

Organic acrylic painting Collage

Castles become ashes burnt in the sand. Speaking in Tongues didn’t raise Her up. For She was sold for thirty pieces of tarnished silver yet Her skin remained Burnished Bronze.

Desperate for escape She slashed Her Limbs on the Spider’s Web.

Then She became a Tree, then a Universe for it mattered not what others thought.

She did up Her Bloody bandages continuing her Voyage Guided by Arboreal Voices. Limbs and Leaves gave succour binding together jagged sounding wounds.

Remember that the Rivers are filled with Souls awaiting Ascension

Zipporah’s House of Redemption and Restoration

Zipporah’s House of Redemption and Restoration



Zipporah was one of seven Midianite sisters that mistook Moses for an Egyptian after he saved them from the men at the well (Exodus 2:16-19). Her father Jethro was the priest of Midian, and it was he that gave Zipporah to Moses to marry. While she is introduced early in Exodus, very little is said about her. In fact, she’s only mentioned three times in scripture.

  • Zipporah: meaning bird or little bird.

The First Wife of Moses

What isn’t immediately obvious in scripture is that Moses had two wives and Zipporah was the first. This is actually a topic that is debated often, but scripture is clear that Moses married two different women from two different lineages. We can prove that by tracing their lineages in scripture.

  • Zipporah was a descendant of Abraham’s son Midian, who was born to Keturah. Ketrah was Abrham’s third wife. This means that Zipporah is a descendant of the line of Shem (Genesis 25:1-2).
  • Moses’ second wife is unnamed and referred to as an Ethiopian in the KJV and a Cushite in most other translations (Numbers 12:1). Cushites were descendants from the line of Ham through his son Cush.

By looking at the lineages we can safely conclude that Moses had at least two wives mentioned in scripture. Zipporah was the wife that gave birth to the two sons of Moses:

Zipporah’s Children


Abandoned. I know this feeling. I know that land.

In the midst of the maddening crowd yet still unknown. In the land of dark mournful streets. Waiting on someone to sing the dirge. Lay siege to emptiness.  Oh Yes. Abandoned is a place I know well. Too well. Virtually ignored save by one of a familiar tribe. Neglected. Abandoned.

I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. I pour out before Him my complaint; before Him I tell my trouble.  Psalm 142:1-2 NIV