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Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet

Category Archives: Spiritual

A Power Greater Than Evil

07 Monday Mar 2022

Posted by Bill Watkins in Inspiration, Inspirational, Poetic Blog, Spiritual, Spirituality

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Covid, God, Inspirational, Joy, Love, Peace, Power, Russia

Higher Power2

We run and we run.  A virus drops or a guy goes wild on the world stage with big explosions, and it’s tempting just to run, run, run.

What’s a virus next to balanced, thriving, healthy days of life?  What’s the virus against a well-oiled immune system, eating good foods, working, playing and loving in a vibrant proactive fashion?

What are Vladimir Putin’s bombs and aggression next to a mother’s love?

***

Let’s stop running and square up our problems like men and women.  If someone bombed my hometown I wouldn’t refugee away from the bombing, but march to the source and have a talk with some people.  Unarmed, Christian, loving, direct talk.

Of course evil exists.  It always has and always will.

What’s your response to it?  Run?

I say, let’s live toward our problems, not away from them.  Live with the Power that ignites us all!  Live toward our enemies and love them back to sanity!  Live so well that our blood will pump into every extremity with a beating heart that will never stop for a measly virus!!!

There is a Power greater than evil, so align with it.  Never cower to the bully!  Love him.

Never cower from a virus.  Love today!

Covid Cure: Live Well

14 Monday Dec 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in Covid, Health, Poetic Blog, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Covid, Covid-19, Health, Help, Hope, Joy, Love, Natural Healing, Panic, Peace, Remedies, Remedy, Spirituality, The Cure

Health1

Doctors and their usurped governments want us to hold back, hide, fall back, cringe, wear masks and fear people as a remedy for a tough virus going around town.  Negative, negative, negative.  No thanks, no thanks, no thanks.

Without a medical degree I know what health is for me because I have lived with me for forty-eight years.  Breathing fresh air in the country is health.  Visiting friends is health.  Exercise and good food is health.  Sleeping well, balancing work, love and play… Health.  When those things align well, illness cannot touch me.

Yes, we have something called an immune system.  Natural defenses against disease that are far more powerful than poorly used masks by laymen who haven’t a clue how to wash and apply them correctly.  Avoiding living as a way not to die?  That’s the doctor-led government approach, and it lacks logic.

Live well!!  Live big!  Live great days, balanced and strong.  Avoid imbibing flammable liquids like alcohol.  Avoid inhaling smoke into your lungs, or overeating… Those are good “hold-backs,” good natural remedies governments are not pushing now.  Believe in a Power greater than yourself that’s positive and loving, place that Power in care over your life!

Positive.  Loving.  Go out and live, kick up dust and make that blood circulate like gangbusters!  What doctor couldn’t say that was a healthy thing?  Or… cringe.  Hide.  Hold back and fear… It’s your choice!  Sober eighteen years my choice for today is the same one I was making before governments collaborated with doctors on the Great Covid Panic of 2020:

Live Well

My Bout with Covid-19

11 Monday May 2020

Posted by Bill Watkins in Covid, God, Health, Poetic Blog, Spiritual, Spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Christian Science, Covid, Covid-19, God, Health, Joy, Love, Panic, Peace, Science, Western Medicine

Covid1

by Bill Watkins 5/11/2020

***

I picked up a weird virus a couple months ago.  Something I had never felt before, a dramatic ache starting in the supermarket one day, then a strong three week fever.  No cold symptoms, just the fever and a horrible headache, which seemed an exaggeration of the one I had before picking up the virus.

I get sick when I’m off-balanced in life, in this case I had been writing too much, eight days in a row without a break.  When I write a lot, I rest a lot.  If I rest too much, including the use of ice packs to my neck, I will develop a headache from too much pillow contact… That’s how I came into the supermarket that day, and I picked up an ugly bug.

I blame no one.  Not the little girl I met on the bus to town, whose mom said she had diarrhea and was heading to the doctor’s.  Not the people I greeted at the market, or anyone else on my bus… This was the beginning of the Covid-19 panic, and all the market employees were wearing masks, making me think I was searching for produce in a hospital emergency room.

There was fear of illness, my own headache and being off-balance, and there you go… I got the evil thing that was out there.  Was it Covid-19?  I’ll never know, because I don’t go to doctors or believe in Western medicine.  I’m sober eighteen years, live in the mountains, know what is healthy for me and do it (most of the time).  Doctors’ offices are overcrowded, over-air-conditioned and over-priced.  No thanks.  I fail to see the health there.

Drawing blood out of my body, where I always thought it would do the most good; giving me experimental drugs at a hint of depression; selling experimental science as if it were factual; compromising itself with politics, getting rich and those viper insurance companies hiking up already exorbitant prices!  No thanks.  I prefer the country, my faith in God, dabble in Christian Science—using the bible and prayer for a positive attitude and health.

But I did get sick!  I get sick about every other year… I admit, this one was wild, stayed with me for a couple months off and on, just that fever ickiness washing over me every once in a while… Sickness!  I got it because I was off-balanced and my immune system was down from its normal strength.  Did I get it because someone “infected me?” Did I get it because I wasn’t wearing a mask?  Did I get it because I was not practicing the blatantly un-Christian concept of “social distancing?”  No.  No.  No.  I reject all of those theories posing as facts for governments to use in their irresponsible, un-Christian, anti-spiritual, pro-Western medicine, shady legislating. Why shady?  The U.S. Government (nor any other I know) has never even defined the word “health…” That’s a big deal when bills try to address “health”-care!

I like good science.  X-rays are cool, for instance… Facts!  I’m saddened by the Covid-19 Panic of 2020 for two reasons: 1. It’s bad spirituality on display and 2. it’s bad science as well.  Yelling out a virus’ name, being scared of it, obsessing about it creates a false god.  Religions which have cowered from the virus should be ashamed, re-read the Ten Commandments in the bible, and “Have no gods” before the One God!  Yell out God’s name!  Fear that!!  Center thoughts on God, love and Faith, then…. “Where the heck did that silly virus go?”  It goes away, like every other flu that’s ever hit a flu season!!

That’s what my strange virus did over time, like any other sickness I’ve ever felt.  It went away… It was a hard struggle, horrible headaches, fever, aches, losing pizazz and my passion for life, not being able to write more than a couple paragraphs in three weeks!  Bummers galore!  I even cursed God out, I have to admit, more than once!  Mostly because in the middle of my sickness the locals where I live in Mexico set off fireworks a stone’s throw from my house, the week of Saint Joseph, littering our peace with bombs.  Went right to my temple, throbbing, shooting pain to go with the chest pain and twitches I always get around those stupid things.

Then the mosquitoes came… Just when I’m getting some sleep to bash that virus out, the buzz at my ear, and I’d have to hunt down the buggers for an hour!  Calamity! Injustice!  Why’d you make this horrible crap, God!?!?  I was ticked.  And sick… Near suicidal, flashing thoughts of self-harm… But… little by little… I apologized to God, that saint’s week of dumb fireworks passed, the mosquitoes gave me a break.

In 12-Step groups, I used to hear the expression, “God never gives us more than we can handle.”  I think there’s something there.  I was brought to the brink, but I had enough faith, positive thinking through my Christian Science training, and patience to gut it out and win.

Where God and Earth Meet

20 Friday Dec 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual, Spirituality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Bible, Creation, Evolution, God, Joy, Love, Mother Nature, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Spiritual, Spirituality

Mother Earth2

The bible was law, among
other things, code with rules
and goals set for students
and readers to follow for
spiritual fulfillment, and as
a guide to reach heaven.

Civilization needs law, people
packed in together, concrete
and asphalt beginning to take
us away from the Earth, nature
itself being our first and only
needed book to guide us…

The smile is within, the bloom
on the field, many plants in
limbo needing more sun or
more rain, the cycle of life all
around us—including paper
and ink, laws and rules fine…

God, good orderly direction,
higher powers, the Supreme
Mover of all things; it’s a
relationship we may have
with a simple ask, or a prayer.
Use a book or the tree to

help you overcome your fear.
What unifies is a proper guide,
what separates in negative vibe
from a lower power, as my AA
sponsor would say, powerful too—
Pick one, it’s up to you!

The Spirit World

16 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spirit, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace, Poem, Poetry, Spirit

Sacred1

Shhh.

Hold your tongue, they say,
and we listen as far as our cells
report it’s good;

gong go the seasons, one, two,
three and four—gone when the
dance ends.

Come, friends.  Let’s see if there
is a surprise with me at the
beginning,

you’re free to disagree with
anything, the country is the
world, the

world a word and words, like
Borges said, are fictions, Lao
Tzu warning

against the false Tao, but then
he wrote eighty-one poems
anyway!  Come,

read to me some poem, some
Longfellow-like lullaby to truth
in rhyme, meter

or free to decorate a page or
brains, the imaginary road to
realms near,

far, wondering what we are, until
we unite in song.  This is not
surprising, so…

We trek on, and on, and on until
there is a fact in the grass, the
sweetest dream

known by labor, Robert Frost failing
as farmer as his pen and types did
succeed.

Truth is a beautiful weed.

There—we may have surprised in
that one!  Up goes the crowd,
as the Olympian

crosses the threshold where pain
becomes a second wind; he or she
reaching

to a higher place as they round
the final corner!  Look at him go,
women

on the rise, coming to the top,
restrictions fall being good to
us all;

those in control will not be someday,
so they hold and hold and hold
‘long as they can.

Truth dawns after the rain in colors,
the drench like a fire in reverse
getting us wet

and cleared of doubt.

We cannot deny the facts, now,
Donald, Ricky, Bobby and Mike;
if you do,

tell her you like.  God or Higher
Power, or Native Great Spirit,
this morning shower—

be with us, fill us with the dream
that is a co-opted walk, a lonely
trail joined by shadows until
real.

There’s another surprise, the wind
bringing change which is the hope
over pain.

We let all seasons pass until at
one with the difference, we egg on
diversity

in the sunshine that was the sad
storm of previous clouds, blocks
and ignorance.

We cannot know until we know,
which is why an appeal to spirit
works.

If reading and unsure, stop now.
Shhh.  Pray.

There you are.

Turn into Pain

31 Thursday Jan 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Joy, Love, Peace, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Recovery

peacejesus3

Be Quiet.

You may be the next Useful Idiot
God uses to spread joy through
pain; wake up asleep, go back
to bed again!

Shhh!

Eat cake for breakfast, if you can
get away with it, smile now
before the wind changes, bringing
Poppins, Toppins, love…

Then crash, the constant in life
of course being change, the wind’s
at it again!

Did you know, little boys, that your
body changes a lot?  When a teen,
you’ll hear that from lots of folk,
but beware a second change at
thirty!!!

What you thought was firm suddenly
doth sag, you can’t believe your luck,
the fate of getting old is not just
for those with white hair it starts
sooner, long after the thrill is
gone life traveling on said the
Cougar, do you know how to camp?

I love you, friends, and I tell you this:
Stop all motion to help a baby, child
or new flower stand.

Do not offend a young person, Jesus
warned us about God’s angels that
bear God’s face—imagine that,
that might be pain!!!

Turn into it now, learn how
to master it!  The moment is gold—
the moment you master life
and growing old,

by admitting its pain, accepting it,
sitting or standing with a Higher
Power and your cards in the game…

It’s not the fun you have but the
pain you endure serving others and
even that voice inside challenging you
that counts to fight, fight, fight.

God give us the courage to stand
up like a U.S. Marine on a dime,
forget ourselves a moment and
be a part of this great thing called

Life.

The Voice of God

13 Sunday Jan 2019

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Higher Power, Joy, Love, Nature, Peace, Spirituality

god

Who’s listening?

There is a pulse and a spirit
under and over our lives,
giving us sanity, clues, natural
grooves to those who are
willing to stop, walk up the backs
of crevasses and ravines, nature’s
cherry, tall mountains yielding
peace in the mind of the sound.

We come out fighting—sperm to
egg, out Mom at whatever pace
gets results.

We have to develop sixth senses,
cosmic attachments to energy
there when we ask.  I asked
for poetry, travelling the song
that is Mexico.

I don’t like music anymore,
because it gets in the way of
God’s voice.

Shhh.

Who’s connecting today?  Where
is the medicine man, the prophet
designated to go up the hill and
ask for God’s blessing.

A priest denying himself sex?

Folks who meditate in buildings?

Who knows what the earth wants,
can report the facts to others,
pick up an instrument to play again
only when we’re on the same
page, one pulse attempting to please
the LORD, like the Jews in the desert.

Burn the incense, retreat back to
the dirt and calm—

God forgive our running around
with cotton in our ears, so eager
and ready to spout what others
say—

We “Edged Out God” the acronym
for ego used today.

Shhh.

Give us peace, God, and with it
your voice to teach us the way!

We Can Rise

14 Friday Dec 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Health, Men's Health, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Health, Intact, Joy, Love, Men's Health, Peace, Rights, Spiritual

The seed wars to become a flower.
Democracy lies—calls people power.

Songs rhyme, the words nothing compared
to truth itself.  You pause, pray,

Give strength clean away, turn it over
We can rise.  With a god of your own
understanding, we can rise, the mystic
reason for the four seasons calling
in the night, dreams the funeral of
ignorance, chopping off parts of a penis

while our infants cry; listening to the
devil, the easy way, “What did the white
coat say?”

***

Great native spirit, aboriginal ESP, a poem
scribbled into sand by Vikings or Celtic
sages, Romeo and Juliet giving English
reasons like seeds to sprout and spread
like a wildfire of color across a northern
California coastal hill.

“God” is the name itself for some, the
goal heaven, and for it we rise.

We can overcome the worst, from ashes
bloom again, seven deadly sins trying to
burrow into holes made before we make
first decisions.

The cliff upon which we walk is forged
to challenge, the echoes of forefathers
and foreskins causing blood to pour out
in lines, the prayer a call of the realistic,

the humble are true when they admit they
cannot without divine help reach the
golden crest that is Peace of Mind.

We can rise.

But we must first admit we fell, ring the
bell that we’ve been to hell.

God, forgive us, let’s mobilize with every
breath to make amends for friends like
wind forgotten with circumcised sips
of flammable liquid passed down from
generation to generation,

Friends in armor, friends who gave
us warmth and farming techniques,
helped us survive winters before
we cast them out at gunpoint, claimed
to found a nation already here.

I’m a white man living on stolen land,
littered concrete and asphalt, helicopters
screaming war while anyone standing
high enough for peace is shot down from
Gandhi to Jack to Martin to Bobby to Oscar
to John of the Beatles, the evil wind
soaring never changed.

We can rise, the minority report flourishing
at times, enough to give us hope
like a birdie between double bogies,

We can rise.

With an ounce of truth told into the
hurricane of lies, we can turn the evil
ship around, apologize.

Admit we raped, pillaged and stole,
see the humanity we are—naked
and part of the earth.

Don’t ever snip earth worn naturally
by children, mutilate a baby against
God’s will.

The baby’s cry is God’s protest; stop
cutting, start listening.  Get out of your
car, join me on the walk to Heaven.

Word Slap

20 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

God, Joy, Love, Peace, Poetry, Religion, Spirituality

True is as true was, not in words
until blessed—before that?

You must ask.

The ear must hear earth, listen and
touch the dirt with hands and feet,
feel the thunder, be a part of the
sound, the waves, the one heartbeat.

“God” is for you to define, life for
you to sort, master or discard, our
choices abound, so pray first.

I don’t care what you pray to, though
when I got sober I started to care about
most things.

Words, shmerds, be happy, and choose
a god or Higher Power that inspires
you to great days!

Forty-six years has provided me a lot
of evidence that some sort of code
or adherence to spiritual principles
helps one enjoy, live and give toward
great days!

What is life, but a day?  Make it great,
the key admitting we can’t do that
alone, that supplication does work.

Ask and ye shall receive was said by
a wise teacher, referring to the glory
of prayer, the same one that said
that you can move mountains with
true belief and dedication to your
faith.

Let go.

Listen to the reason, the gift given;
there is a fairness in the honest
step, look both ways and consider
before taking it.

One Goal and Basket

24 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by Bill Watkins in God, Heaven, Poem, Poems, Poesia, Poetic Blog, Poetry, Spiritual

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Eternal Life, God, Heaven, Love, Spiritual, Truth

What a confusing mess, waking
up alive in a basket of confusing,
stench-filled piss, not the physical
kind—

more like the lie told and believed
that alcohol is good to drink.

Another that it’s okay to have many
focuses and gods, play sports and
compete in pretend fights, slotting
passes and balls into a hoop.

Meantime the march for some to
Heaven continues, for those who
had that goal all along.

While we sought ways to deceive
another team or player, they sought
ways to love and give to the poor—

true gifts coming from our own
poverty, of course.

The slugger or forward on the team,
a confused pursuit of “victory,” leaving
the ultimate prize behind—

God.  Heaven.  A Peace of Mind!!!

***

Wake up in piss, but wake up!

When down the wrong road, turn
around now!

The goal… the basket… the only there
is is a contented sleep in the poem
spun by One, obstructed by
scoreboards and bars, the path
to hell wide and well-traveled.

Leave it and find the narrow a
better, albeit harder walk!

Die with me into this humble
song not on your TV;

die from the lies, and turn
toward the cross on your back;

Eternal Life.

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