The Struggle:

A song-based dramatization of the challenges, doubts, and pitfalls that may be encountered on the journey.








The Transcendence:

Soft instrumental ambient pieces.

Can be played at low levels for background ambience.


Sometimes I seem to be immersed in my reverie, it’s true.
But really it’s a kind of inner work that I think I need to do.
I sit down and go inside to try to find the things I hide from view.
I let go and clear away the past that’s been trying to come thru.


And love seems to come and go, and now I don’t even know how.
It makes its appearance just for show and to keep me falling down.
Friends who encourage me to be what I’ve got to be are rare.
They hold me close so I’m not lost, they give me tender care.

And all those things that happen to me – the struggle with reality -
are burning down the burden found inside that needs to be released.
Simple reliance brings freedom and compliance with the soul.
Even the birds that fly are guided by giving up control.




The PRESSURE builds up in my brain, makes me want to go insane.
The pressure builds up in my soul, drives me fucking out of control.

It’s time... There’s not enough time...

It makes me falter, makes me fall, into something entirely wrong.
I look for the person to set me free, to take me out of this misery.

I know I can go either way, up or down, how will it play.
Insanity, death, fear and greed, or empathy, light, humanity, release.








My God don't say he needs me, he don't need to bleed me just because I ain't got it right.
He bypasses inspection, offers self-redemption, welcomes both the dark and the light.
And now some government’s religion is making for restriction, and I wonder if I'm really so free.
I'd like if it was easy, I'd like if it was breezy, but I got to remember that governments are sleazy.


And that girl who wants to rule me, but won't even do me, how can she be actin so queer?
All the time I lick her, she's lookin at the ticker, wishin she was anywhere but here.
She says I'm an elitist, becoming an extremist. She says I'm the one who can't love.
I'd like to believe her, don't want to deceive her but if she don't get better then I'm gonna have to leave her.

Everything I know is from a telly vision show, it's no wonder that my brain is so warped.
It keeps me in frustration, lacking integration so bad I sometimes even can't talk.
And hypocrisy is rampant, the people can't see past it, but soon the explosion will come.
Just like a roman candle, there's gonna be a scandal, the system don't work because of all the vandals.



4. WHY

I am the one who will always be there, captured and going nowhere.
Tell me your stories and leave in the lies. Take me apart with your eyes.

Tell me WHY there’s a place for sorrow. Tell me why there’s a place for love.
Tell me why without the sun, the sky stays dark and cold above.
Tell me why there is no reason and these things just have to be.
Tell me why the river runs across the land back to the sea.

I see the power you have over me. It makes me act so desperately.
Radiant abandon, glowing with love, as if you’re from somewhere above.

I’ve got a new name, it’s the me you don’t see. Clap when you are ready.
There’s two of us, and that should be enough. Protect this object.
It’s clamshell smooth, heartspun smooth, spendthrift smooth, extra smooth.
Get the best.




Frank works for a construction company. He’s assigned to a new job where he’s supervising about ten people. They are renovating an old house. At lunch time, one of his workers, a woman, invites him to go out with her. She suggests that they go to her place, which is nearby, and that she drive him on her motorcycle. Intrigued, he agrees. Her bike is old, and looks like no motorcycle that Frank has seen. It is large and clunky, painted dark flat gray. As they start to get on the bike, he wonders if her invitation has any sexual connotations; it will be intimate sitting on the saddle with her. They drive off. They soon arrive at her neighborhood. There’s an old elevated train track that runs over the busy main street. Her house is just around the corner. It is large, old, dark, dilapidated, with other houses jammed right next to it. They go inside. There are people inside with whom it appears she shares the place. They are mostly old with gray hair. They wander apparently aimlessly from room to room, drinking alcohol straight from bottles, passing the bottles around. Dogs are everywhere, most are rolling on their backs playfully, but somehow they add to the sense of chaos and distress that permeates the house. There’s the faint smell of urine. Frank finds everything extremely seedy and repulsive. He wonders exactly who this woman is. He questions if she is drawn to this lifestyle for some inner purpose. Is this what she will become? Is there something she has to work out? But he doesn’t see what it could be. Continuing to feel completely uncomfortable, Frank walks with her through the house. They go from the hall into the kitchen, and from there they look through opened French doors into the living room. Here, in the middle of the floor, is a large bare mattress. On it are a man and woman, both naked. They are not in contact with each other, but seem to be in some sort of trance, either passed out or deep in thought or some other process. They are lounging in haphazard positions on the mattress – arms, legs, and torsos askew as if they had been dropped from above to fall as they might. The other people in the room seem to find nothing unusual about them, and continue to amble aimlessly around. A quiet somber mood fills the room. Then, another person, a man, clothed, lies on the center of the mattress on his front. The other two rearrange themselves so that they are on either side of him, a few feet away, parallel but lower than him, so that if he were to put his arms out at right angles to his body, his hands would be on top of their heads. They all lie still. It’s some kind of ritual, or exercise, Frank doesn’t know what. But as he keeps watching, he gets the impression that the man is performing some psychic act that is affecting the other two – that he is some kind of healer, therapist, shaman, or artist – but none of these labels seem exactly right. Frank begins to sense that something important is going on, and that these people understand why they are here, doing what they are doing. This further distresses him, because he’s been noticing that there’s a sense of realness, honesty, and truth present that attracts him in spite of the sordidness of everything or, he thinks, is it because of the sordidness? He feels overwhelmed, intimidated, values shattered, out of his depth, suddenly aware that there are parts of himself that are undeveloped and immature that he must seek out.


from John's book
Between The Moon
and The Walking



I’m waiting for some unknown power. It keeps me around just like a pet.
We all drive in my car together. We live in a house I won’t forget.
I do nothing, really nothing. I become entirely still. I choicelessly enter catatonia.
I surrender to my loss of will, and,

I wait to be saved, I wait to be saved. I wait - without WAITING.

On the street I fall down into a trance. I’m in a place where I will not be robbed.
It’s crowded - people are walking by me. I’m lying on some steps, going deeper.


from John's book
Between The Moon
and The Walking



Winter winds, blowing cold, cuttin’ through, right to my soul.
Wonder when, I’ll begin, gettin’ past, all that’s been.

It’s a PANACEA, oh, oh. It’s a PANACEA, I’m lookin’ for.

Summer breeze, blowin’ hot. Reminds me, of what I ain’t got.
A nice tall glass of lemonade, packed with ice, in the shade.




Deep down, when you say you’re always to blame, you’re treating yourself real bad.
It’s not like it seems, you’re stuck in your dreams, you’re making yourself real sad.
But I know, you will come to your senses real soon, and get clear.
You will see, it’s different than it may appear. You're just feeling the ATMOSPHERE.

You look for a smile, anything kind, someone to talk with you.
But it's like breathing on Mars, it's not in the stars. What you want just won't come through.
And I know, it’s easy to be all alone with your fear.
So don’t think, it’s something you did that’s so near. You’re just stuck in the ATMOSPHERE.

I can see it happening all the time.
Yes I know it happens all the time.

So deep down in your heart, start feeling the love that you have trapped inside.
And you won’t be ruled by the unconscious pool of negativity deep entwined.
And you’ll know, that the way to be happy for you is clear.
It’s just to, rely on the voices you hear. They're from beyond the ATMOSPHERE.