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Transcending Illusion

Transcending Illusion

(What to do after the Sky has Fallen)

by
Cynthia Adler

The stories are all there. Sometimes interchangeable. The loss of a home, a substantial fortune, a small fortune, a meager savings, a life’s work, a job that was counted on, a loss of face and faith and possibly a future…

The stories…they bubble up in the ether that was once the rarified air of America, the seemingly solid ground of patriotism and entitlement in a nation that took nothing less than the number one slot in the world’s billboard chart.

Until now. Now, we have been thrown into some kind of spinning Disney ride, and blown around until our molecules are no longer anchored in our spirit, and we find ourselves suddenly, in some strange alternate universe.

But here we are. Dust settling, hornets nests popping out all over, from a cracked and bizarre Government, to ponzi madness, to big banking bonuses and other emerging Corporate rip-offs and we wonder, who are we, and where have we landed, and most importantly…what are we to do?

The Buddhists say that when all around you is in chaos…just stop. Stop in your tracks and do nothing. Nothing. But we are Americans…we cannot do nothing! Nothing is not in our genetic make-up. We need a fix-it plan. We need to go into action immediately and shore up the dam, marshal the troops, and make it all go away.

But it’s not going away. Not right now. And maybe the Buddhists have something there…because when you stop, you can really see the landscape, what’s been going on all around you, and finally, just how long this has been coming on. And that realization, may possibly floor us.

For it hasn’t only been these past eight years that have gotten us to where we are today. It has been decades of drowning eco-systems and mass unconsciousness and elective passivity, with a Corporate system that has masterminded the running of this country for eons and a population that has chewed on false promises while choking itself on mindless hours of television, techno toys, and excess in everything from food, to things we never even wear or ever use.

So what do we do?

No one really knows the answer to that. But the best plan may be to look at this broken mountain as some cosmic opportunity to shift, to turn away from the fixed images of our lives and re-vision. To examine loss, and what that means to us on an individual basis and as a whole nation. And to take action. Not in the marches, not in the posters, but real action. Ah…and how do we do that?

Well…that is the real question now, isn’t it.

Wonder what the Buddhists would say about that one…

 
 
 
 

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Light Enters

Light Enters…

Light enters
it infuses all the pathways
to the
inside chambers
of my lifeline

It travels with me
in the daily
longings,
the rising and falling
of victory and
even in
the broken dreams

It is my journey,
my very own,
mapped in beauty and triumph
and
sadness
and darkness

It travels with me
through
this beautiful winding
corridor of life,
with it’s slides and
lifts
with its fear and
wonder

Delivering me
to an ultimate
beginning once more,
on another path,
in another field,
to another
dimension,
but always, always
walking beside me
flowing within me
and
never…never abandoning me.

we are…the Light.

Cynthia Adler

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Close Your Eyes

Close Your Eyes

Close your eyes
what do you hear?
the sound of a heartbeat, a rare percussion of
timeless flow
a soul dimension
fastened to rhythms of a
crystal core, but more..
a jump to life
in glorious syncopation…

Close your eyes
what do you hear?
motion tones blending colors
into streams of
forgotten promises or
untended dreams
pressed under boulders
wrapped in prayer shawls
and crystal
a child in a corridor
frozen in time
looking out…looking in
searching in space for
signals and signs
and the course of a destined pathway.

Close your eyes
and listen to your heart.
It will carve your courage.
It will source your truth.
It will deliver your answers.

Fly gently and ride the ever constant
beat
and listen.

Just listen.

by Cynthia Adler

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The Corridors…

The Corridors…

Beside the corridors
of the heart…
walk
yesterday’s ghosts.

Pain and longing
trauma
and sadness
opening their chambers
every now
and then
to say
do not forget me.

For I am the borders
of your life
that you must pass through
if you wish
to be
free.

 

I am the light of
the
darkness
bearing
the wings
of
tomorrow
unformed and
shaken.

Carrying the
promise of
new growth
and
soft
rebirth
into the
eternal
labyrinth
of the
endless
dream.

by Cynthia Adler

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Holding Pattern For 9/11

Holding Pattern
For 9/11

I am awakened
To the silent scent of
Ash
Paper ideologies
Drifting gently to the ground
In balletic surrender.

That morning,
The crystal morning,
That battered illusion
And ripped the remnant
Of a perceived safety
Has made us
One skin,
One nervous system,
Moving in molecular prayer
To transform the
Ancient rage
That shaped itself into
Taut missiles
And hurled itself into the looking glass,
When no one was looking.

We are a light show
Hyping the wattage
To force-feed the
Future,
While a band of soldiers plays with
Explosives and
Spores
And our surrogate fathers
Carry to term
A master plan
As we lay in their hands
Coiled in
Suspended meditation.

We are a nation of
Conditional beauty
And naive grace,
Shaken courage
And stunned silence
Kept at bay
With the deep distraction
Of techno toys
And tinker toys
And celebrity sightings
And the agendas of
Media management.

I am glued to the present,
Moving through crowds
With compassionate trepidation
And a deep love
For
My fellow traveler,
Bargaining and bartering
With the saints
To prevail
In this sea of unpredictable
Events.

I am hoping to stay
Balanced,
On the wall,
Not to crack,
Not to fall,
As I watch the heart
Try to repair
Economic lines,
Religious rancor
and self-obsession,
While the touching of colors in hands
And eyes
Move to the strains of
God bless America
And I wonder at
The irony
And why
It takes this,

To get here.

Cynthia Adler
November, Two-thousand and One

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Boomer-angst

“Boomer-angst
or
Trust No-one Over 90!”

Trust no-one over 30, was the early Boomer cry…
they’re too old, and do not get us and they couldn’t if they try
but we were pretty stoned and somewhat coked and pretty spent…
and that’s why we got it wrong,…cause it was 90 that we meant!!

See, 90’s text while walking and their falls are pretty gory
(but so do 20 something’s too, but that’s another story!)
and their hearing is quite off and they just do not care to see that you’ve padded up your bras so you can look like you’re a D!

And they aren’t impressed with your resume points
or that you still insist that you roll your own joints
or that you are in touch with the youth of today
(though you don’t understand half the words that they say).

See, those 90’s it seems just don’t get it at all
they just sit there with blank eyes or stare at the wall or they lay in their beds with a mucous filled cough
then say, “I need a nap…so shut up and screw off!”

Yes, we know in those fun days of 20’s it seemed
we would laugh at those 30’s and hope they got creamed
but we should have said 90…cause that’s what we meant
cause our kids are now 30 and paying us rent
and we’re sixty and over and still kicking ass
so we’re happy to give all those 30’s a pass
but the treacherous ones are past 90, I fear…
and we have to remember that
each passing year…
so when we’re getting close, then 100’s the shot
and it may not be fair…

but hey…why the “F” not!

by Cynthia Adler

 

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Occupation

Occupation

Intensified collective
rising up.
A sea of oppressed
soul marchers
making way onto the
encrusted infrastructure
of a diseased corporate
takeover.

Pulling to task
the empty heartbeats and frozen veins
that have served
death warrants
onto the very lifelines of
a nation.

A slam bang chess game
played out
in secret halls,
on fattened hills
and greed-fueled exchanges,
using humans as
pawns and guinea pigs
while spinning
empty promises
leading up to a fast
and blindsided
checkmate.

The crowds will expand
in volume,
in voice,
and in controlled rage.
This frozen sand pile will never move
unless drowned
in its own underlying
whirlpool
wrenched from
its posts
pulled from its locked down
moorings
and stripped of its
power.

The voices are growing
and they will shake
the demonic giants
who have planted poison,
raped, pillaged, gagged
and cut the flow of
human dignity.

The people are collecting
muscle,
mass,
infusing the
airwaves
and
holding fast
for an end
to
this endless
nightmare.

 

But what will they do
as winter’s air rushes in,
as encampments freeze
and long for shelter.

The mad dogs are waiting…
waiting
for the mass retreat,
the slinky back down,
for the faceless ones
to finally
go home.

So the people must move…
into second phase
stronger,
more daring,
shaking the foundation,
roaring into the ears
of the lions and bulls
that change is here…
game over.

by Cynthia Adler

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My Face ~ Oil of Olay

There was a contest for someone to come up with a poem about the face for Oil of Olay. My agents entered me in that contest and I won, and then did the voice-over for the commercial as well…it was lots of fun to do, and luckily, it ran for over a year.

 

“My Face”…by Cynthia Adler

 

My face, oh yeah, I love my face…but space and time have given me a line or more, to score with all the things I have become, and now I am.

And since I still remain nineteen or so inside my head, there’s not a lot I haven’t tried to match the outside to the in…

I’ve peeled and scraped and Retin-A’d…I’ve pumiced, scoured, and often prayed. I’ve sponged and honeyed, slathered, gored. I’ve even used an emery board!

I won’t give up…I’ll never cave, a slave to years is so passé…it doesn’t hang with what I see for me in all these years to come.

I’ll keep ahead of trends and flows…I chose this dance, the rest is left to fate or chance. I’ll fix on love and what’s sublime and kick the stats of father time…

I am whatever age I play, and if they ask…I just don’t say!

 

“My Face” #2

 

I love my life, and yes, I’ve got the years to show…oh no, I don’t go down that road. I fly ahead of all the trends, the bends, and all the hidden curves…

I carry years without the fears of future problems in my mind, I find I’m still nineteen…or often feel in that vicinity. For me it’s all the attitude, forget the number, choose the mood…for age is on the page, my friend, ignore the stats and all the little cliché chats you roll around inside your head…instead go with your gut, your voice, your intuition feeds the choice.

I try to be my own best friend, and open end on things that I’ll invent or try…and flaunt an air of mystery for all that is to come or be…the sum of all that came before, but more…and yes there’s always more….

I love my life, and yes, my face, the grace that years have given me…

If someone asks how old I am?… I stop and let them just assess…and always answer…take a guess!

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The Myth of the Movies and Aging…in America

The Myth of the Movies
and Aging…
in America

by
Cynthia Adler

“Age is on the page, my man,
and because I don’t believe…I
retrieve… any year I want!’
Man D. Kool
“Rapper”

 

Let’s just start with the biggest myth of all: “It ain’t gonna happen to me!”

How many times did we catch ourselves in a mirror and go, “who are you?!” And that’s only when we hit nine years old, after we got so used to our eight year old face which still had some baby fat left on it!

We are a country obsessed with youth.

And that is why in this culture, we cannot bear to see our movie stars age. They are our idols… mirrors of who we are…and mirrors, of where we are going. And this is why so many film stars go through some painful and complicated processes to try to fend off those passing years. Some, have wonderful results. And some… fairly devastating ones. Those, unfortunately, find it hard to get cast in front of a camera anymore.

And often, many of those procedures are not reversible.

So, why is it unacceptable to see our film stars age? Simply because it forces us to see our own progression in years, and in this country, it isn’t fun to do that. So, what kind of a society would make it a crime for our movie stars to be human, to have a certain lifespan, and to change with the years as they progress, with humor, dignity and a sense of acceptance?

America. The United States…

Take a look at France, Italy, and England for instance. As their stars age, they are revered, given many good parts and are never judged by a TMZ or a rag magazine for an uneven jaw line or some creases in the skin. What would Anna Magnani, a long ago Italian iconic movie star, have done if she were thrown off the cinema map because she never had plastic surgery? Magnani remained a star in Italy till the end of her life. (With some sexy roles, by the way…) George Clooney put it so beautifully when he wrote an article about plastic surgery on male movie stars in this country today and said that some of them were “frighteningly unrecognizable”…And what if Maggie Smith were born in this country? Would she remain in the public’s eyes as brilliantly revered as she is today? Does anyone talk about her physical appearance or that she needs plastic surgery to be accepted on a screen? How about Helen Mirrin, Charlotte Rampling? Women allowed to age beautifully without the full knife, without being judged or ending up on the cover of a rag magazine, or worse, becoming the butt end of a bad joke.

Nope…it’s a bit of a wicked double standard here… and women in this country suffer from it the most. It’s no wonder that so many girls are getting surgery at younger and younger ages. They are getting the message fast…”you must not age here…it is a crime”…and if you do, “no one will want to look at you.” So, what are we telling these girls? And what are we telling ourselves.

We are frightened to death of the inevitable! And looking at our idols age, makes us unbearably frightened. Because to us…they are the mirrors of where we are all going. And that, in this country…is just unacceptable!!

Movie stars who are no longer with us, if they have gone at an early age, their image has the best advantage. Marilyn Monroe is still one of the most adored sex symbols of our time. But what if she had lived. Where would she be now? In her late 70’s and wrinkled but perhaps enhanced? And lets face it…would tons of men be drooling over her body parts, looking at her old movies or publicity shots?

Uh uh…I don’t think so.

It’s a bit of a ratty game, and we buy into it to the max.

The beauty of accepting ourselves and the process we call life, might change a lot of things…There’s nothing wrong with a bit of a tuck here and there, but an unrecognizable face can kill more than a career…Just ask some of the movie stars who did it and lost.

Life is inevitable. Moving time is inevitable. But loving yourself and accepting the passage of time…if enough of us did it, it might just give Hollywood a message…”Wake the f—- up, and honor the passage of time in your stars! Talent gets even stronger as the years move on. Talent doesn’t age…the inner spirit and lust for life doesn’t age…it’s just the outer cover that does.

And that is the inevitable…
for everyone.

 

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Why Mickey Should Run

Why Mickey Should Run
by
Cynthia Adler

Wanna be President?

Well…you might just be in luck! It seems that lately, this is a country where you don’t really need a lot of experience to apply for the job. Your speeches could promise everything (even if you don’t deliver), and you could appoint various family members to help run some of the government agencies for you! And…you could hang out wherever you want, protected by a swarm of security teams, all paid for by the people of this wonderful country. Whew!

And while you might need something of a higher profile to do that, it could really come from anything…an Oprah Winfrey, an Alec Baldwin…Hey, even a Donald Trump could run!

But in this digital age, where spin-doctors twist your brains around and little PR gremlins work the ear much quicker than the eye, people are confused. Many are not sure now that they have anyone to rely on anymore, and sadly, many do not even have the impetus to vote!

But oddly enough, there is a light in this strange political darkness for the next election. A candidate with a strong resume and a powerful name recognition. A candidate that yes, has lent his name to many commercial products, but unlike some others, he never ever took a penny from any of them! And, a candidate without a hidden agenda, who would gladly commit to a sane eight-year term and just might follow through on his promises…

And that candidate is…


Mickey Mouse!

Yes. Mickey Mouse. I know it may sound a bit radical, but hear me out.

You cannot find a candidate with more integrity today. Want to abolish the use of unlabeled GMO’s in so much of our food supply? Heavy metals and fracking with toxic chemicals sneaking into the waterways? And what about all those gag orders and threats blocking those non-invasive alternative cures from coming into this country? Well in that case, Mickey is your guy. He knows where all the dead mice are buried to hide the frightening results from the thousands of food and medical experiments that have been done on them. And Mickey’s not taking any chances!!?

And Mickey would appoint someone like Donald Duck as Secretary of Agriculture to head the FDA. Someone who would not go into collusion with big corporations to suppress evidence, or let them buy their way out of laws that are meant to protect people. No cuddling up with lobbyists to pass on any cancer causing pesticides or drugs with life threatening side affects. Oh no. He knows for all those kids out there with ADD, allergies, learning disorders and autism (just to name a few), Daisy would shove his head in the oven before he could even collect a dime. And Mr. Duck understands that he better “lighten that toxic load,” so to speak, or he could be labeled a “quack.”

And what about the EPA? Well…not to stray too far from American tradition… no better choice than Goofy!… Need I say more?

Foreign policy? Look no further than Epcot in Disney World. Countries from all over the world living side by side, in peace and harmony. So what can Mickey see from his window? He can see Mexico, Italy, France, Africa, China, Norway and Morocco. And… he can even go there for breakfast if he wants!

Also…Mr. Mouse is completely loved and adored by every head of state that ever was a young child. He has no vendettas to avenge, no rich cronies to give incomprehensible tax breaks to, and as for oil…too crude and too messy to deal with. Goodbye oil… hello alternative fuel! (made from the massive amounts of garbage collected from Disney World every hour!)

And might I add, that you will never ever see Mickey try to grope a female Disney visitor, no matter how big her chest is, or how much leg she shows. Mickey wouldn’t ever-ever brag about any female conquests in his life. Mainly…because there aren’t any!

And how refreshing is this…Mickey thinks a “Spicer” is just something you stick on food if it tastes too bland. He thinks Tweeting is what he hears from the fake bird sounds coming out from those speakers in Disney World. And…if you happen to mention Tea Party to him? All he can think of is a steaming cup of hot water with lemon and honey. What a relief!

I’m so glad we live in a democracy and can choose a President. But what do we really know? I only know what I’m fed from a corporate-owned media or some endless dog-and-pony show…

Believe me…this is a no brainer! And what have we got to lose?

Hey…if we’re already living in a cartoon…
why not go all the way?!

Mickey Mickey…he’s our man…

 

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