Today, Today, Today!

Shakespeare warned us through Macbeth. I am reminding us.

Note: Good morning, thanks for joining me for a reading from my secret garden a poem I wrote on 4.28.26 at 8:15am PDT to make sense of the senselessness. The political circus, unending news cycle, fast pace of technology and oh and the things that keep going on the merry-go-round of life that doesn’t seem so merry. So take a break, grab some tea or coffee, and just be with me for a few minutes.

Before we begin, you can read below or just close your eyes and click on this video. Enjoy!

Today, Today, Today!

Did we forget to be human?

Who are you?
Who am I?

I don’t know, the friends and the foes.

The roles we play, from day to day.

We forget to look eachother in the eyes.

We see more people on our screens than on the streets.

Oh how time has flown by.

The birdsong traded in for ding dongs, artificial sounds coming from the devices, which divide us.

The butterflies invisibile to our waking AI’s

The transactions, unboxing, the reactions. I see you deeply in the refractions and reflections of the black screens.

Busy bees do their things, enjoying the nectar from the flowers and trees.

We forget to be.

We roll out of bed, log in, get fogged in. Blue screens suck us in, hypnotize us, rhapsodize us and monetize our attention.

Do what they do, say what they say, walking algorithms all day.

This is our reality.

Do you see? No lawmakers or companies or products decree this message I am emitting to thee.

Money matrix seduces us, cuffs our creative hands, the lion’s den created structures to separate us in houses that don’t even feel like homes anynore.

How do we break free from modernity? Do we just suck it up, is this the way it is supposed to be?

Mother nature disagrees.

She is spinning and in the end, she will be winning.

Just as our ancestors did back then, they told stories of way back when, just ask the dinosaurs of way back when.

Oh how things were so much simpler then.

We ate together as a family.
Smelled the flowers.
Sat under the trees.
Where we would just be.

The ease and flow and olden times are stories of the olden times, stories of the past. As we go on with our hurried days unabashed. Nervous systems spinning like the pinwheel of death. Which reminds me of the sacred story… the warning of Macbeth.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

So many run amok depleting their day’s fortune - of time and connection and love — for ego. On a stage or page or divice or a role that no one really cares about.

Shakespeare warned us, and I am reminding us:

In the moment, the only stretch of time that matters.
We would hear the children’s feet running to us, pitter patter.
We weren’t so obsessed with climbing that latter.
Cuz in the end — all the things, the roles, the ego stories that are told — it all doesn’t matter.

So take a moment, sit still, free will… listen to the birds, I promise, this fast life, and free will, it isn’t determined.