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Hi. How are you?

Jimi Hendrix wailing out his blues – his inner pain – on the top of a mountain ridge – no one there - perhaps more than a little lonely. Playing all by himself with only the birds, plants & insects for an audience. But tears are streaming down his cheeks – forming rivulets, then creeks, & finally a stream flowing into a tributary of the mighty river of Pain - that screams out against the misery created by humans everywhere in every time in every place. And the torrential rains continue to fall – the formidable current overflowing the banks – engulfing entire communities in misery. And yes, while some & perhaps much of this anguish is self-induced, a substantial bulk is real. A black man is lynched – a strange fruit blowing in the wind. When will it ever end? On the mend – just around the bend – Never again. Right <sarcastically> What a blight. In the darkest night. Impossible to set things right.

Sure we attach ourselves to silly things – fame, fortune, acceptance, love, warmth & recognition. And yet all of these illusory phantasms of anxiety & dread are overwhelmed by the very real misery of grinding poverty – malnutrition at the best – or starvation, another step down – may as well drown. How about excruciating pain that crosses your eyes and turns your brain inside out – not to mention sheer exhaustion from excessive demands – devastated by stress.

So please Jimi, wail on you guitar – opening our hearts to feel the pain. And let the river of tears flow freely – hopefully cleansing our psyches of this impurity called thought. Yet let this cry be beautiful - reflecting the marvel of a squinty, sparkly, twinkle of a dew drop on a chilly winters day. Nema.