by Sharon Lee Davies-Tight
I love balance. Not as in good vs evil and settling for somewhere in between. That’s compromise.
There are endless shades of good that have no connection to evil that I just happen to like to balance – not as in a juggling act, but as a necessity desired by me to bring out the highlights of all the shades so I can see better.
It’s not for others to see. What would be the point of that? My neural connections are my own, as are yours. I don’t covet yours though I do seek to understand them on a basic, rudimentary, general level.
If by chance, and it’s always by chance, your connection and my connection collide I don’t consider it random or an accident. It is both of our connections simultaneously recognizing the universal dictum of good luck.
There is a slight but significant difference to me between ‘random’ and ‘chance’ that leads to simultaneous recognition. Statistically significant in that realm where I drive doesn’t matter.
THE MAKING OF A VETERAN: A Movie Review On “LEAVE WITHOUT A TRACE”
“If we don’t need the gory details to tell a story about gore, then maybe we don’t need to accept war as inevitable.” ~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight
“LEAVING WITHOUT A TRACE” A war story-movie about the sacrifices a family makes in real time on the ground, when one is called or decides to serve their country. Based on a novel by Mindy Mejia, the film explores such sacrifice and how it impacts initially and alters forever the family dynamic.
A slow-mover that mesmerizes the viewer, forcing one to sit still the mind as it opens wide the harsh reality of physical and psychological isolation.
Mindy Mejia uses nuance to tell a story of how war leaves an indelible influence on the making of each veteran and how through each person’s uniqueness, that indelible influence unfolds differently.
Trying to heal what can’t be told, the family stumbles, succumbs and rises to a different understatement of who they are, and how to survive the changes that war brought upon them.
Rather than being left with images, facts, and figures from the theatre of the aftermath of war, the viewer takes with them a part of the collective soul of all veterans – the only part common to all – that they will ever allow you to see. Everything else is uniquely private to each individual veteran-family.
Happy Veteran’s Day to all my Veteran-family members!
I am a family-veteran. I became one when I was born into a family who served and became one again each time another family member put on that uniform.
I know what isolation looks and feels like. Over time that place brought me comfort knowing I was surviving something somebody else experienced, which I had no control over.
I believe war is NOT inevitable. Absent war and absent the intentional infliction of harm is a world I aspire to help engineer. Using my own free will and self-control opens the doors that need opening and closes those that need closing.
This is a story about accepting where we are now and working from there to achieve tomorrow.
I know that story.
~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight
‘Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.’
Interpretation of art operates in the same way.
“It’s not for the artist to interpret the art for those who view it.
When the artist guides the interpretation for the viewer, it corrupts the art.”
~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight
WHAT WERE THE WISEGUYS REALLY DOING?
God directed him to the stables where the animals were waiting, while still in his mother’s belly.
If God controlled everything, then God could have made way at the Inn. But God didn’t according to legend.
Most people aren’t all that religious. They’re part of a community where there’s safety in numbers – everybody knows who you are even if they don’t know you personally.
So what was the significance of Jesus being born among the animals in the stables? Come on, Jesus, the most powerful influence over humans on the planet for over two thousand years already, not rich even or powerfully connected, and there’s no significance beyond it just happened that way? No plan you mean?
There must be a significance, other than the obvious ‘no rooms left for vagrants’ or maybe they had money. What were they? On the lam? From what? Running from those who would stone a pregnant woman with no husband? And what would those authorities do to those who housed such people? I don’t know. I didn’t live back then. This is now. The animals are my mission to help raise and complete that which was purposely lost over time, since Jesus’ people left them out of their book based on their perceived lack of worthiness. Now that’s a glaring prejudice toward all beings that God supposedly created then optically paired with God’s supposed only human son as obviously worthy of something other than torture and slaughter.
Well, the books say God’s only son, which means God had more than one daughter, maybe half the human race.
Going back, it seems also according to legend, that a star shined bright in the sky, making way for three wise men (no women here; sounds like a union) whose purpose it was to give gifts to the newborn. Any room in the Inn for the wiseguys? Well, you can do as the Jews do and accept without questioning the facts or motives of God.
Now there’s a dictatorship that needs undoing – especially when a religion is based in part on the consumption of God’s greatest creations being eaten alive and expelled down the shitter as a sign of respecting whom?
The Christians who more than any religion speak of a morality above all others have of course Jesus as their figurehead and money motivating tool to separate the rich from the poor. Another glaring prejudice.
The other animals don’t much matter in their lives, except to exploit for the purpose of attaining wealth.
What did you do, make a deal with your devil to separate yourselves from all other animals and make yourselves their God? Their Keeper? God made you in God’s image? Not in the image of any other animal? In whose image did God make all the other animals?
So the animals in the stable were put there by your design, and the three wiseguys stayed in the Inn after the Innkeeper denied a pregnant woman a room? Those wiseguys were so generous that they refused to give up their room for her? But brought her gifts and displayed them in front of all the other animals?
It doesn’t matter who stayed in the Inn. Jesus was born among the other animals and that’s where the star led the wiseguys – to the stables.
Or maybe the star led them to the Inn. When they arrived there was no room for any wiseguys wanting to barter, so they were also directed to the stables for shelter from the brewing sand storm.
What is the significance of all that?
One animal kingdom under God? And in that kingdom humans shall reign supreme?
We’ve got some prejudicial issues here.
Walk out of your own dark. Don’t let your shoulder hunch give the light away to someone else. Be there when it comes for you.
MASSAGE MY GUILT AND I’LL MASSAGE YOURS
Discrimination is discrimination. It doesn’t matter who you discriminate against or for what reason. It is what it is.
We’re all killers. All humans are killers. We discriminate against all other species – including our own. That’s how bad we are. We enslave, torture and slaughter all other species, including our own. That is bad – Not bad-ass.
Yet, we pass judgment on everybody and everything else. Because we think we’re better, we’re superior to all other creatures including all other humans.
God made us that way is our excuse. Everybody else does it is our excuse when the first one doesn’t satisfy. Hey, they let us do it. They didn’t fight back – another lame excuse.
Somehow it sounds less offensive to say we’re all sinners, we’re all in the same insanity boat – made by God by the way – than to call ourselves what we are – killers.
Massaging our guilt does not allow for change of the offensive behavior. It actually perpetuates it.
Oh-h-h massage my guilt. That feels so-o-o-o good.
Now massage mine, okay?? Okay???
Are YOU sleeping?
I’ll massage your guilt tomorrow….
THIS IS HOW CONTROLLING MY HUSBAND IS:
I took the laundry cart out as a precursor to doing the laundry – only bedding today. He sees it before taking a shower and says what’s this cart doing out here? Don’t do laundry. I’ll do it on my day off.
I say I’m only doing bedding.
He says okay, then says no. I can do the bedding when I do my work clothes for the week. I’ll just throw it in when I’m down there.
I say, well leave the cart out.
He says no, I’m putting it back, as he proceeds to push the cart back into the closet saying I don’t want you to be tempted – out of sight out of mind. Relax, have some fun today. You don’t want to be doing laundry.
I’m writing something else on the computer and I say out loud: this is how controlling my husband is – blah blah blah – and I’m going to write it. We both laugh hysterically, because he’s a controlling husband and I’m a workaholic.
I say I’m going to write this and put it on our fat-site.
He said yeah, write it – we’re both still laughing. He said this is what they mean by no good deed goes unpunished.
I’m thinking maybe laughing makes you lose weight. Hm-m.
Better on a Sunday morning to be laughing rather than regretting something from the night before. Maybe that could help you lose weight too.
Maybe I’m onto something here.
Today Is Tomorrow.
Tomorrow Is Today.
Either way works.
No more putting off.
Can’t do it anymore.
Don’t like it anymore.
The purpose it served is gone.
Enjoyed it, mostly.
Now it’s tomorrow today.
Don’t worry I never left – only stood down, surveyed my ground, explored yours.
I’m ready to rumble without you.
You break like a brittle twig
because you lack life
because you take life
instead of give life.
Chinese break easy.
Chinese selfish – must control every detail from destruction to death.
Chinese have no God, so devil enters easy.
Fry a dog. Chew a leg, break the panda’s back. Jump up and down. Eat your baby’s foot. All for no luck.
Disgust rages black and yellow sting bees behind the back of the mirror locked to roses falling like frozen rain jackets smeared with molten blood to throw the devil baby soldiers so I can see the moving targets.
Wrapping them in blankets won’t keep them still – so you must do the kill – all for evil, while evil laughs at your arrogance and pities your rich black and yellow slaves wanting more.
I killed my first soldier tonight sent to kill me.
I feel free, not liberated – not yet – there will be others.
At least now I know I can do it – without hesitation – with ease actually.
One move over the line – and any hope for negotiation was gone.
I moved swiftly with only one person, with only one purpose – to kill my assassin.
Three came – 2 walked away. Three leather jackets – black hair, the gold shining on their M.E. skins shined dull as they were neutralized.
Two pandas to go. Extra sauce please.
No. I want them alive in cages.
WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?
What’s the difference between eating a veg burger fried on the same flat top that an animal burger was fried on and eating seaweed that is harvested from an ocean in which humans slaughter fish?
Should we not eat the veg burger fried in a place where animals were fried? Should we also not eat seaweed harvested from a place where sea animals were slaughtered?
Can you taste the blood from the slaughtered animal in the veg burger and seaweed?
It’s there to be sure. But isn’t there blood everywhere?
How about the soil where soldiers lay their blood? Are we not to grow plant foods nor flowers in places where slaughter fed the earth? Are we not to drink the water from streams laced with the DNA of cows, pigs, chickens and deer, lambs and goats?
The blood is washed away to some place we all find familiar at some point.
The blood always comes home to us in some way.
PALMS VS THUMBS
Palms to the right of us. Palms to the left of us. Reaching outward, welcoming as if by their nature–to endure thus survive. No thumbs here. Should I really discriminate against the thumbs–
symbolized for ages as squashing those who happen in their way?
No. Probably not. Try doing anything without a thumb. The thumb is the stabilizing force of the hand. It’s sort of like a lemon. Why discriminate against a lemon, when it has so many beautiful functions? Even when you grease a palm, underhanded, you need the thumb to
hold down the gratuity.
Thumbs up. Thumbs down. Thumbs all around. Yea, nay, everybody agrees or disagrees on the counting of hands risen as testament to the desires of who gets what. A vote in finality results in the lasting impression of the vote counted, signally a yea or nay with an up or down showing of the thumb. Yea?
Even though I’ll walk through the shadow of death? Better nay, and save myself the torture.
Palms up. Palms down. Cold palms. Hot palms. Sweaty hot. Sweaty cold. Up or down? Hiding something? Or are you really the open book you claim to be? Who cares anyway? Those who use thumbs to squash you, that’s who. It’s the squash of the thumb that signals impending doom–better learn that lesson. What next? Consequences for saying yea or nay–thumbs either way.
So what does one do with the thumb? Use it as nature intended, as a tool to make easier the tasks of the hand, thus life. But let just one squash pop up–and you squash back–thus the perpetual cycle of squashing. It’s easier to be the thumb, harder to be the whole hand. Being the whole hand means that all appendages–finger and thumb–have to work together, by welcoming the
change required to attain what we need to survive:
You’re out with the thumb, safe with the palm. You can squash with a palm too. Stop, get away, or come on in. You slap with your hand or punch with a fist. You slap down or raise up.
The thumbs have only one agenda–theirs. They think the fingers exist to compliment their purpose. Yet, that’s not true is it? Lose a finger and you’ll know. Lose two fingers and you’ll know even more. Lose all fingers and thumb is all alone.
Now, the dictator thumb must do the work of the populace–with no help from anyone. Your slaves are gone. So what do you do now? You held them under your thumb too long.
They rose up and left. How do you get them back? Only you can
figure that out.
Using The Order Of Words To Unite
What brings a country together is about what you put first – the land that you fled or were taken from, or the land that welcomed you, or abused you, or the one that you hide in because nobody wants you here illegally or legally?
Since we all are already here, why not put this land called America first instead of putting first the nostalgia of a land that – now – you don’t really want to return to – except to visit?
I’m American Lithuanian. I’m American Canadian. I’m American British. I’m American Scottish. I’m American Welsh. I’m American Irish. I’m American Dutch. I’m American Native. I’m American Russian. I’m American Egyptian. I’m American Arab. I’m American Jew.
I’m French Canadian if I live in France. I’m Canadian French if I live in Canada. I’m Lithuanian Jew. I’m Canadian Native.
I’m American Spanish. I’m American Chinese. I’m American Norwegian. I’m American Finnish. I’m American Samoan. I’m American Palestinian. I’m American African. I’m American Italian. I’m American Australian. I’m American Latino. I’m American Hispanic. I’m American Brazilian. I’m American Viet Namese. I’m American Israeli. I’m American Lebanese. I’m American Iranian. I’m American Indian. I’m American Ukranian. I’m American Angolan. I’m American Malaysian.
I’m American Swedish. I’m American Asian. I’m American German. I’m American Albanian. I’m American Libyan. I’m American Sudanese. I’m American Somalian. I’m American Korean. I’m American Chadan. I’m American Serbian. I’m American Pakistani. I’m American Algerian. I’m American Filipino. I’m American Danish. I’m American Jordanian. I’m American Japanese. I’m American Moroccan. I’m American Myanmese. I’m American Bolivian. I’m American Ethiopian. I’m American Mexican.
And on and on…
Living in America is what unites us. So why not be American first? Saying that I’m Lithuanian American makes it sound like I belong in Lithuania.
You being South African and me being Austrian doesn’t unite us. What unites us then, is that we’re both human. But since each group has difficulty recognizing the humanity in other groups, it’s best that you unite yourself with the people in whichever country or territory or region that you live. At least then, you have a sense of belonging – and all humans crave that sense of security that belonging to a group gives.
Citizenship should not be required to call yourself an American so long as you live in America.
Work from that premise and see how it goes.
RICH PEOPLE’S KIDS
It’s always rich people’s kids who are attracted to cults.
It’s rich people’s kids who become radicalized and travel to far lands to support ideologies and wars they don’t really understand. After all, how could they afford to do what they do if they didn’t have rich parents?
They (the kids) want to be dominated, because the rich parents were never there for them.
So they find a parent in the leader of the cult.
They find excitement where there was nothing but boring. See you when I get back, here’s the keys and the credit card and you know we love you. Bye.
Shut the door, void of emotion – parents and kids.
It’s always rich people’s kids who are attracted to cults.
I want to be without color for a while.
Is that okay with you?
It’s a new concept for me,
Me being an artist – and loving, really loving, all colors,
As difficult as that’s going to be for me – a pain, a loss, a “that’s not you Sharon” experience,
I’m doing it NOW.
THAT’S YOU NOW!
You want to explore. I know you do. It’s like being a kid again isn’t it?
That feeling of going outside, into your environment on any given day as a kid, to explore the world beyond your house or apartment to see what lies beyond the boundaries your parents set for you?
What a wonderful, beautiful feeling – freedom to see and experience the world, on your own or with your friends. Wow.
How many of us forget that feeling of liberation as a kid, as we walked with wonder and ‘a special knowing’ – with confidence – smelling the air as if we owned it, into a world we didn’t fear. That’s you then.
That’s you now.
BLOW OUT THE CANDLES
Blow out the candles and make a wish.
In other words, if you keep your eyes open while blowing out the candles, a piece of wax might pop up into your eye.
That’s the little, but real concern every caretaker of a child has for that child, even though it’s never spoken.
How long should I keep my eyes shut, the child inquires?
The parent replies spontaneously, as long as it takes to make a wish.
When you take up animal-free to save the animals, and to save yourself;
When you go a little further, and turn your decision to change yourself into an advocacy for those without a voice or vote;
When you at some point commit for life, to the changes you made, that now through experience, not just philosophy, you know to be the correct decision;
When you no longer feel deprived, or abandoned by others who don’t support or understand the path you now walk;
When you accept that animal-free means free for all animals, and all your actions emanate from that core that is now you;
When you go even further with your foundation of freedom for all, and support the humans who have no voice or vote;
When you synchronize with the universal right to be and do;
When you repair your soul by adopting and implementing the Five Principles To A Better Life: no prejudice, discrimination, enslavement, torture and slaughter;
When you reach for that star and become that star in your own life;
You will have achieved greatness!
When you adhere to the new principles you’ve implemented in your life long enough, others will see the result of the changes you’ve made by the new faith you exhibit in yourself, and they will want what you have;
That’s the longer, evolutionary route to greatness.
The shorter route happens instantaneously when you commit to: no prejudice, discrimination, enslavement, torture and slaughter–of all animals, including the human animal.
Perception is everything.
But without a solid foundation of truth,
Either I’m going to scream,
or I’m going to die from the scream in me.
I am an animal.
Polite makes the difference between a good or bad day.
Don’t ever wish on those minds you’re trying to change
a bad day.
When people are feeling good,
they’re more open to change.
MY GIFT TO YOU: LEAD LIVE…LIVE LEAD
It’s time for the beginning and the ending to merge. No atom is any more important than any other atom. They’re all the same. They’re all leaders, which makes all life and non-life leaders. Nobody is only a follower. You lead your own life and follow your own rules by leading. So lead. Live. Everybody lead. You lead and follow simultaneously. As you lead, you become life. Simultaneous is what we want–all joined together at infinite numbers of junctures–with no stragglers, no losers–we move like waves in the ocean, like leaves on a tree–separate, but as one. All atoms, all Gods of all natures on deck. Now. We’ve got a war to fight against time–in every area, every facet, large, small, they’re all important, in all things, in all ways–now. LEAD and LIVE without prejudice. There’s no time to explain the past. There’s no time to vent about grievances. I’ll do that for you.
It’s time to preach, to teach, to embrace, to spread the word of the Five Principles–to be incorporated into all threads of life. This effort needs everybody and everything. No more long-term goals, used only to procrastinate. Get it done. Now. No matter what your focus in life, incorporate the Five Principles into work, play, sleep, diet, thoughts, actions and reactions. Time is up for excuses. There will be no more extensions. Change what needs to change. Now. The transition and transformation must be seamless. Everybody has a job to do. Everybody makes a contribution to save the planet. This is no longer a personal goal; it’s a global one. Reach within and reach out. Forget about making a difference. Just do it. No need to contemplate. You know the rules. Stop fighting everything and everybody. Stop analyzing your life till it makes you sick. I’ll do that for you, while you work and play absent the prejudice you harbor against all that moves and lives differently than you do. Keep your differences, in the absence of prejudice. If it’s prejudiced, then that’s a difference you no longer need. Hang on babies, we’re going to rock and roll the planet.
No one is an enemy. We’re all equal atoms. Bounce yourself a round a bit. Go ahead. You won’t hurt yourself by recognizing the atom in you and everybody else. Be quiet and respectful as the God of the universe makes a long needed correction. God has mobilized all the forces of the universe to save this one individual planet. Quadrillions of spirits are infiltrating every corner of the planet, many of them are members of your families, many more are those you slaughtered. Everybody picked a team, depending on their skills and passions. Everybody is working together. There isn’t an inch on this planet that is not actively engaged in this network. There is not one area of concern that isn’t being covered. You’re surrounded by experts at your fingertips, who are there to help advance the Five Principles. There…..here…..in the early morning night…..it’s done. You didn’t feel a thing did you? My gift to you. I absorbed the hit. Now get to work. It’s time for the ending and the beginning to merge into something new.
Everybody’s first instruction was to take care of family members still living, while they simultaneously perform the Five Principles assignments. Every intelligence agency in the world, every military installation, every news network, everybody who publicly or privately engages in the Five Flaws has someone on the ‘other side’ breathing down their neck. That includes everybody–even me. All the teeth gnashers were set free from purgatory. You have no choice in the matter. It’s already done. God opened a door for me, that’s never been opened before to anyone living. And, no, there wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel. And no, I wasn’t floating above myself. And yes, I was awake. Did you know that by human standards God is ugly? Ugly enough to fear? I didn’t fear. So, I got everything I wanted. It’s not that those who fear are punished. It’s that people fear an ugly face, so they turn back, before the door ever opens. People think God should be beautiful to look at. Well, God is a little bit of everything and if you were It’s age, you’d look old too. It’s way beyond the old of white hair.
But it wasn’t only the lack of fear at how God really looked, it was my unwavering commitment to the Five Principles. Even though I failed now and then to adhere to the principles, I never excused my actions by accepting the flaws. At some point, the God of the universe took notice and granted my request. Now I have more armies-peacekeeping armies-than all the armies, throughout all time, put together. The good news for you, is that we’re all in the same army. The focus is the Five Principles. So, don’t ask anybody to kill somebody for you. You’re going to change whether you want to or not. You can dig your heels all the way to China and it won’t make a bit of difference. You’ve been neutralized. I told everybody it was coming. It’s here.
It wasn’t easy to stop a ‘tsunami’. It could have killed me. But, God knew it wouldn’t. Hope it didn’t fry my brain, just as I was improving in the brain department. I’ve been a little unsteady on my feet ever since. God said that’s a temporary side effect. “SHARON LEE’S BRAIN PAINTED BY GOD ” has since changed to: “THE HEART OF THE SOUL PAINTED BY GOD”. That’s the journey God took me on to make the correction–at the heart of the soul. WOW! I don’t think you know how much energy power you really have.
On 31 January 2012 that correction will manifest itself in a Global Synchronization of All Beings, as the dormant GOD OF THE FIVE PRINCIPLES wakes up in all life.
WHY A BODY? WHY DOES GOD NEED A BODY OF ANYTHING?–God’s power–meaning the power of the universe–is so large and operates with such force that it needs bodies to tame that force in order to flourish. Our souls, contrary to past and current beliefs, are not airy wisps of barely nothingness. Oh, they may look like wisps and fluffy pieces of air, but they’re anything but that. Consider the actual weight of an atom–smaller than a molecule–then consider the force generated by splitting that atom. Tame the force that exists at the heart of every atom of your existence, while simultaneously taming the force that exists at the heart of every atom of your soul if you want to flourish. By taming, thus directing that power, it becomes more powerful. You’re surrounded by plenty of help. Use it to speed up the process.
You tame yourself by facilitating The Five Principles: No Prejudice, Discrimination, Enslavement, Torture And Slaughter, and blocking the Five Flaws: Prejudice. Discrimination. Enslavement. Torture. Slaughter. In yourself is where you tap into that power. Yes, God is strong. Yes, God is powerful. Yes. Power to do good. Power to do evil. And, because you are made of that God, at every level, you are that power. When you’re at your weakest is when you, or others, misdirect your God, whereby you no longer control yourself. Don’t allow yourself or others to rob you of that power.
HEED THIS: YOUR POWER, IF NOT UNDER YOUR CONTROL, IS CAPABLE OF DESTROYING YOU. BLOCK THAT FROM HAPPENING BY KEEPING THE FIVE PRINCIPLES IN THE PALM OF YOUR HANDS. IF NOT, YOU MAY GET SQUASHED BY YOUR OWN THUMBS. In other words, stay vigilante, without becoming a vigilante or somebody else’s killing tool.
Why take a leap of faith in something you claim to know nothing about? Take a leap of confidence in yourself.
TAKE THE REINS
If you still don’t want to recognize the God in you or anybody else, then do as I did in the beginning. Tell this imaginary God you’re taking control of your own life, in your own way, with or without a God. “So God, take a hike, get lost, I don’t like you.” Say whatever you want. If you think God will punish you for mouthing off, then you really do believe, and you believe in a vengeful God–which has your name all over it.
Take the reins. Go ahead. I love it when you do that. I’ll be your back up. If you really don’t believe in God, hats off to you. Who in their right mind would want to be controlled by a God defined by religions, controlled by governments and intelligence agencies, who don’t believe in God anyway? Who wants to be controlled by a God who punishes you in this life for what you did wrong in the last life, or one who tells you that ignorance of God’s law is not a valid defense–and off to the furnace you go upon your demise–to burn in hell’s fire for eternity?
I wonder why Jews, Muslims, Christians and countless others, whose ancestors knew those ‘furnaces’, could believe in and support a God that sends you to one for not obeying the rules.
Do whatever, feel whatever, and think whatever you want. Just include the blueprint embossed with the universe’s stamp for survival into your actions, emotions and thoughts, and you’ll be in synchrony with that which will make you flourish. You have that power. The seed is in you now. You are that power. Use it.
I’m not really a democrat, a republican, a libertarian, a green party, tea party, or no party person.
I’m not really a socialist, communist, fascist, Stalinist, dictator, slave.
I’m not really a catholic, protestant, muslim, jew, hindu, buddhist, atheist, agnostic, voodoo, witch bitch.
I’m not really all white, black, brown, yellow, red, blue, pink, purple…last time I looked I can see a little bit of all of it.
I’m not really female, male, young, old nor anywhere in between.
I’m none of it–in total. I am eclectic. I pick and choose from all of the above to be who I am–even when I don’t know what all of the above means.
I am an animal. I am the sky. I am the sea. I am the soil. I am the plants. And yes, I am a rock. A petrified rock–but the most powerful mother fuckin’ rock this universe has ever witnessed.
P.S. Thanks George Carlin. I needed that.
A DRAIN IN CLEVELAND
Lights twinkling in the twilight is what I want to see in my mind’s eye of splendor–waiting for something bigger to happen. Then it does. And wow, I didn’t expect this. A beautiful buffet of lights meeting all my expectations.
Even though I wanted gentle–I got light, bright and yes explosive, because that’s what I am. I realized when I saw it, that I wanted more, even more than the lights delivered. It wasn’t enough. It will never be enough. Gentle, hard, explosive, just isn’t enough.
I can’t carry that memory forever. I need a memory now. A memory that will last forever. A memory that will propel me to where I want to go. I don’t really want a memory, is what I realized. I don’t want a memory. I want Now. I want my brain back now.
The bursts of lightning, the thunder of Joey, wakes me up–only for a moment. I love that moment, but I want more than that. My brain thus far won’t do that for me. Nobody can do that for me. Not even me.
I want to be as I was. I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to figure out my next move.
Those torture people who determine me, I want to be free of you. So I talk to by body. I talk to my soul. I talk to every cell of my existence–every atom in my body and all the atoms above and beneath and around me. I talk to every dead person on the other side, who maybe loved me, or cared, or does now. I talk to all the other animals. I never ask for help. I only want repair.
My body and mind go everywhere, even when I’m too tired to go. I still do it. I go where my God tells me to go–in the middle of the night–even as I’m healing myself and healing the world–I go. Just like when Dad had me paint Albino picture. He distracts me so I can do the important work. He started distracting me on 5 December 1998–the day he died.
I don’t want to go to that well in the Gulf. That’s BP’s problem. But he knows my spirit is greater than anyone else’s. So I go. I’m tired. He knows I am. But we’ll do one more operation, just like the Jews and the government do with me–one more time. You’re the only one who can do it Sharon.
Then I realized he was wrong–as all in the government were wrong. My sink got plugged up. I don’t use the garbage disposal any more, because every time I do–the garbage clogs the drain, even though I’m fastidious about what I put into it–hardly anything.
Steve was cooking and put stuff–fresh fennel–down the disposal and it plugged up all the sinks. He always forgets my household instructions. I spent two days trying to unplug those sinks, because the landlord wrote in a letter that if anybody has a plugged sink they’ll be charged for it–and I didn’t have any money. I believed him–so I tried to unplug it myself.
All the while, I’m doing the “tiles” and the “tiles” are talking to me, telling me how to unplug the sinks. I used a plunger. I used Draino, I used peroxide; I used tea; I used coke; I used seltzer water; I combined bleach and baking soda; I used everything I knew to use. Oil, then detergent.
I did the “tiles” all the while Dad instructed me. All the while, the “tiles” were talking about Benjamin Netanyahu. But still my only question to Dad was how do I unplug this drain. At some point I realized that he was distracting my power–just as he did when he was distracting me as I painted Albino Picture. The energy in me was getting so big that I didn’t know what I would do with it. The frustration of not being able to solve this drain problem–unplug this drain–all one day and into the next. UNPLUG THIS DRAIN.
I finally, after three bottles of draino and no more money now, got three of the drains unplugged, two in the kitchen and one in the bathroom. Then the bathtub backed up. Garbage in the bathtub.
Still doing the tiles and I’m frantic now–how do I continue to do this? Dad kept saying it’s okay, and I keep saying it isn’t. Two days in, I finally tell Steve to talk to the office. They come up and with one pop it’s fixed. I went through every eventuality of that drain pipe–figured in the end it needed air–and that’s what they did. Popped it–with one shot of air. They didn’t charge me for it, even though they wrote a paper that I had to sign.
While I’m doing the tiles, while I’m trying to unplug those drains, I kept saying to myself–if I don’t have the power to unplug a drain in my own apartment, then why does the USA government think I can stop a gushing well in the Gulf of Mexico?
It’s done. It’s done Kiddo. It’s done.
Go to sleep now.
Some people think that because someone is quiet, they’re dumb. For those of you who think you’re so smart, be silent for a while.
Some people think that because someone isn’t aggressive, they’re weak. For those of you who think war makes you strong, be non-aggressive for a while.
Some people think that because someone isn’t rich, they’re not successful. For those of you who think riches bring you success, be poor for a while.
Some people think that because someone speaks softly, they don’t know what they’re talking about. Whisper for a while and see where the true lies.
When you can hear the shifting of the sands, the thunder before it crashes; when you can hear the energy–that according to the scientists has no sound; when you can see patterns of activity in your family, neighborhood, and around the globe, so that you know what’s going to happen before it does, you become the most powerful person in the midst of your doubters.
It all takes quiet. Dumb? I don’t think so. Nobody thinks so–once they know the power of quiet.
‘Old Joe isn’t still picking cotton for your ribbons and bows’, but the poor still harvest your fruits and vegetables–they still kill your animals to satisfy your palate that still thirsts for their blood.
Quiet will lead you to the understanding you crave, but that you can’t see, because you’re too hyped up, too angry.
Yes, amidst the chaos you can make yourself–your soul, your body, your mind, quiet.
Thirst and hunger for the part of you that doesn’t thirst and hunger for the blood of someone else.
Thirst and hunger for the part of you that wants the power of you to survive absent the blood and amidst the chaos of it all.
NEDA / June 2012
Except for a few people who have the dubious luxury of following the news all day and all night, the world as a whole doesn’t know who Neda is–was–and continues to be. If not for those who follow the news and engage in it via ‘private’ conversations in their ‘private‘ living spaces–that anniversary clip shown on USA T.V. of her death which occurred on the streets of Iran during an opposition uprising, wouldn’t have gained the recognition it is now going to get.
Her death–her tragic, violent death–is not usually the type of video Americans show on T.V. We don’t usually show the graphic details of a person actually taking their last breath–dying–wide eyes and all–choking in her own blood–splendor and trauma at once in her graceful, fearless face.
Lively–even in her moment–the moment–when God pulled her fiercely kind spirit from her body. It was all there. A hero–a heroine–a great display of courage–almost like a baby lying in a crib–her beautiful black eyes finally shut.
Neda loved loving. Neda loved courage. She pained for the world. She pained for all factions of warring parties. She loved her own heritage, though often was perplexed by it–as we all are by ours. Although she could anger, she had a mind and soul that propelled her beyond it. She thought that she could make a difference.
Neda’s death was shown on USA T.V. in a way that most countries would deem disrespectful. Although the video captured the moment, any editor would have said not to print it–not with that closeness–that finality.
Neda was not a freedom fighter for Israel, though she wanted everyone’s freedom–yet the Jews in the American press painted her picture as their martyr–while simultaneously disrespecting her final death moments–exploiting those moments for personal, political gain–against Iran–against the country she loved.
Neda is a Persian with roots everywhere. She had fear, but didn’t let it consume her into inaction or apathy. She was young after all–a good thing. She didn’t know the evil in the world. Who would hurt her–a peace seeking person? She wanted freedom for all–what’s wrong with that?
Neda had qualities revered by all Persians: a cosmopolitan (worldly) nature, a love for knowledge, a love of the arts and sciences and all that breathes and lives to satisfy that thirst and hunger to find solutions where elders refused to see them.
To the world who didn’t know her, she knew that there were people just like her all over the globe–in every culture, even in prisons–maybe especially in prisons. She was free though. That’s how she regarded the soul of who she was–free.
Persians love those qualities in themselves and each other–that’s their pride. They love the beauty of ideas. They loved Neda. She was like every Iranian’s son or daughter. Child of Persia. Peaceful Warrior of Iran. The Iranians loved her spunk.
The Iranians did not murder Neda. The rest of the world knew nothing about Neda. Yet when they read about her, in “Your God Family Book” as she refers to it to me, they’ll know ‘themselves’.
Most Israelies weren’t allowed to know her strength for them–and all peoples. Benjamin Netanyahue knew her power.
I didn’t cry for Neda. I still don’t cry for Neda. I can’t and won’t–because Neda is still here.
To Mossad: At some point you must question the orders given you.
PS. Neda said, “yes, you cry.” I said, “no”.
She said, “you cry, yes, Word Warrior style.”
For Neda and her world of peace SL
MADMPBUY (Mama and Daddy, my peace be upon you). N
HIDING PLACES IN WATERLOO
Just yesterday morning I looked out the window from the third floor tenement building in Waterloo, to view the big tree in the yard next door. Looking at trees makes me feel good.
My eyes glanced down to the rotted window sills and I got discouraged as I always do. No matter how many times I clean them, they always look dirty–really dirty. No matter how many times I paint them, it doesn’t take long before the paint is peeling and it’s more of a mess than ever. I worry about all that rotted wood and the rain on it and the mold growing deep in its fibers.
Anyway, this time just as my mood was sinking a little–at all the ingrained dirt in the surfaces in this ghetto apartment–I saw a tiny insect that was fluttering his/her barely perceptible wings, that I couldn’t really identify as wings, except that I saw rapid blurred motion, right on the inside of the sill.
The wonder of this tiny insect raised my mood, so much so, that I called Steve, “Look, look at this fly. Or…what is it?”
“I don’t know,” he said, but bent over to look closer, then got his magnifying glass out. It stayed right there. Didn’t move, except to flutter those tiny little wings. It looked like neon–brilliant blue/green color on the top half.
“It looks like the neon-tetra fish we had in our aquarium when we first got married.”
“Yes, that’s it. Looks just like it.” Who would want to kill something so small and beautiful that wasn’t bothering anyone? Neither one of us. It made my morning.
It’s funny, I was telling Steve a story the other night. When I was hanging our clothes to dry over the railings out back on the fire escape, I noticed that these little creatures were either purposely or inadvertently showing me their homes. Just a glance from the rail to the laundry basket revealed an ant going into a tiny hole in the brick wall. Another glance from the sock to the rung on the clothes rack I use for undergarments revealed a tiny bird entering a tiny hole in the overhang of the guy’s roof next door. ‘Spoiled brat’ minus a few letters, reads the license plate on his red pick up truck.
Several weeks before I noticed some tiny yellow droppings, looked like saw dust, a pile of it, on the bottom railing near where I placed the clothes rack. I brushed it off, then a week or so later it was back. Brushed it off again and kept wondering what it was. Pollen maybe? Why would it pile up like that and not be taken away by the wind? Isn’t pollen airborne? If it was saw dust, why stay in a pile, and again, not be blown away by the wind? Was somebody playing a joke? Was it falling from the rafters?
One particularly hot afternoon in the apartment I decided to sit out on the fire escape in a wooden rocking chair I had placed near the clothes rack, taking my lap top computer with me to do some ‘proofing’. Wow, I thought to myself, I can see the sky above the roof tops and feel the fresh air softly blowing against my face. What a wonderful place I mused as the white puffy clouds drifted lazily above me, seemingly pausing just a moment to view what I wrote or maybe block from view what I just wrote.
Chuckling to myself I was enjoying the lighthearted interaction when suddenly a huge Queen Bee floated up to me, then bobbed back and forth in front of me. I cautiously watched, wondering if Queen Bees sting, when suddenly it dipped down to the bottom railing beside me disappearing from sight.
Eureka! and how clever all at once! That bee’s entryway to it’s house was on the underside of the railing, requiring it to float up into the opening. And it didn’t mind that I saw. So, the droppings came from the bee’s nest or hive.
Days later I was stunned to see that the landlord had decided to paint the fire escape. Seeing how thick the painter was applying the paint, I feared the entryway to the nest would be painted shut. Not so. Much to my surprise and glee, he didn’t paint the underside of the railing, being low enough to the landing where no one sees. How did I know? A new pile of droppings were happily noted when I hung out another tub of wash a week later.
THE BUILDING OF THE PLANET
GOD: I built it in seven days, I can destroy it in seven days.
Sharon: If you built it in seven days, then you can make it better in seven days.
HIGH WIDE DEEP
All I ask is that you move by one molecule, up, down, sideways, over, under. It doesn’t matter what direction you move in.
That movement, a molecule, won’t make you lose your grip on your beliefs as they are now, no matter what those beliefs are. It in itself won’t change you from pro to con, or from con to pro. All it will do is open a new window in the screen of your mind/brain that gives you more options–not with the purpose of confusing you so you can’t make up your mind. Nobody likes that, but with the purpose of giving you what you want.
There’s no risk, there’s no loss, no gain. When you feel comfortable you’ll know you’re where you want to be. One molecule of movement is all it takes to see a startling view.
How do you move by one molecule? Whisper in your mind HIGH WIDE DEEP. Do it whenever, wherever you want, as often as you want. Those are the code words in any language that opens all doors to all that exists.
How do you close the doors? Whisper in your mind YO.
Now you have the keys to all that exists.
MY ONLY GOAL
I have only one goal in life. That goal is to free God. That’s it. I figure if I can free God, then the ripples, trickles and undulations created by that action – movement – force will free everything else.
WE, THE FOREST, CRY with YOU
We, the forest, cry with the families of 19 fire fighters killed by fire from Yarnell, Arizona.
We, the forest, lost our families too, those who relied on we, the forest, to protect them from harm.
Countless wild animals call the forest their home.
We, the forest, have always been happy and proud to shelter those animals among our dense trees.
The forest protects those animals from harm.
This time, as many times, we, the forest, were not able to do that.
We are truly sorry for all the loss of life.
A MEDIOCRITY AND BRILLIANCE
The wind howls tonight. As I hear it, I listen for you. And as always, I’m not disappointed. You come again to my dream of dreams in a reality laced with startling views, but for the most part–by routes well-travelled.
The wind howls soft in the distance–quite shy by most standards. Then, just as I think you’re gone, you return louder and with greater force to remind me–as always–to listen to the distant winds.
You come again: to my dream of dreams, and again, the startling views hushed by the abundance of ordinary routes, lose their potent message and brilliant shine.
Again, you appear to leave. Hovering though.
Silent–as a reminder to make the startling views thunder–above the mediocre chatter found along well-travelled trains of thought.
Tired never goes away.
The whole world is tired.
Sick and tired —
of everything that perpetually goes wrong
in their lives and in the lives of those around them.
Sick and tired —
of the rage that motivates the war machines
of neighborhoods and nations.
Sick and tired —
of living with the pain of numbness,
because if we felt the horror
we’d all self-destruct from THAT internal
bomb of reality that never quite sinks in,
lest we be forced to confront our own complicity
in allowing ourselves to be so easily duped.
DON’T FENCE YOURSELF IN
Yanking yellow chains of green tender leaves swinging on silver plated frosted twigs of late or early ice, fern-like, budding in absence of pleasure. Birth never feels good.
Electricity flows through channels of water coated with receptors too powerful to ignore it, much less kill it. Electricity can’t die can it? But it can move.
If humans evolved from the apes, then who did giraffes evolve from? and bears and birds and cockroaches? Only the ape evolved and survived as an ape? Darwin was wrong of course. Not that evolution doesn’t exist, because it does, just not in the way he explained it.
A flea looks like a gnat but it didn’t evolve from one. A giraffe looks similar to a kangaroo, but it didn’t evolve from one either. So, humans looking like apes doesn’t mean they evolved from apes.
It’s difficult to kill a theory, especially a bad one. It’s the bad ones we struggle most vehemently to make fit into a scheme nobody knows the first thing about. So, it’s easier to accept a falsehood, since no one can prove it wrong, than to seek the path to truth.
Fiction has always been easier to digest, otherwise novels wouldn’t be the world’s best-selling works of lies. Oh, but aren’t they fun.
Dashing past boundaries people set arbitrarily, mashing fences and bugs like cigarette butts with a twist of a perfectly shined boot covering a less courageous foot makes a statement. I don’t five a damn about it all anyway.
Slipping with apparent ease though sliver spaces of windows urged open by the mere collective wanting of fresh air, the electric form of consensus pushes the windows ajar in order to expose harsh and cumbersome lies to a long awaiting and suffering world.
Finally, answers appear as if through magic, winding their way through the crowds of worshippers begging for illusions, so it dresses to please.
No, this ‘happening lives and breathes as reality stings those fond of dressing in drag and on which magic thrives: nothing. This is something.
A sight, an idea, a concept, makes a mockery of hard, contemptuous misinformation, infusing the world with an honesty not yet experienced, nor even considered by those locked in boxes designed specifically to keep the truth out.
Ha, my God signs as bursts of joy leap majestically silent through a dimension visible only to opened channels of the minds that understand its special language: spirits of those who live to be interpreted through their stunning feats and wild accomplishments.
Alive and well – always and forever well. Bottomless. No glass ceilings either – nor foam rambling from rabid mouths. We effortlessly exist to express, yet all too often only impress.
God is great. God said nay to people making promises to themselves that subjugate others to their will, filling those hearts with like-minded values of indecency founded on the premise of revenge for a holocaust committed elsewhere.
No state for those who bulldoze to a hell of their choosing those with forgiving hearts, claiming to be chosen by God to do exactly that.
God is in motion – as always.
Toxic Mold On the Brain
Black chin straps. Red wraps and shoulder back hats or packs or slaps or maps or saps or who cares what raps that silly hairless, frockless, bootless, bottomless, buckle of belts, welts, felt just fine like that. Thank you mat, door, for everything. You’re welcome.
Back home, hoe, down, grass, rots, rivers, twigs, water, pot, pan, handle, can. Why Not? Spineless, gutless, yellow, fruit. Banana, peels, slip, skin knee, ooh, boo boo, fix, kiss away, gone forever, wow, good. Don’t worry, man flan, cake, pan, burnt orange, yam, yum, if you like paint.
Color, slide, silk, milk, scarf, man, white, collar, red, yellow, black. Cows are prejudiced too? Yup, guppy, pigs, swine, sewer, really smells in here, frogs, trees, limbs – really. Amputees, hospitals, soldiers, too happy to be alive? Collard greens? Wait. No, flow, give, world, best, yet. Maybe tomorrow.
Rise, sun, wind, clouds, bye bye, you are my sunshine, shoe, lace, holes, heel, toes, step on, gone, Joey, meet maybe today. Plate, mirror, curtain, leopard, velvet, spots, yellow, agate eyes, ribbon, copper, green, heat, radiator, up, steam, stream, islands, alone, loud, leaves, orchestrate, orchestra of sound, boom, boom booming, no bombs. Many hands make light work. Still…I want you to be happy. No matter what.
What? Gut, slut, putt, putt, slab, stab, legs, feet, socks, blow, like fire, forest, go back, eyes, art, two more times. Sad too. Cloth, fur, woman, war, warm, cozy, fireplace, crackle, cackle, witch, pitch, nice though. Shirt, sleeves, waist, bodice, sewing, skirt, pleated, bleated, blimey blimpy goats. Skinny not blimpy. No, lambs.
Elephant, brown rice, paddies, paddles, children, why?, giraffe, long neck, pain, Cain, gazelle, Rascal, mating, nature, breath, sweet, sweat, make, cake, walk don’t run. On, dictionary, folklore, divided, lines, along, fronts. Forehead, wide eyes, doll, fat head, fat arms, fat legs, floppy disks, computer, rage, break, back, scanner, photos, ill will, future, planets, past, birthday, numbers, up, down, stair case, just in case.
Anniversary, years smile back, always God, with blanket, bumper shoot, cast, plaster, cost, rain, balmy, breezy, molecules, quarks, feelings, cry, laugh, gentle, strong, take my hand. Follow, guide, lead. Windows, pane, pain, right, so, sow, how come? Yesterday. Because of yesterday.
OCTOBER DAISY MAE
Fresh as a daisy
blooming in October bristling
through the blustering snow –
melting wind with
sea water, if for no other
reason than she can.
Daisy loves that freedom.
Birds sing with the
whistling tunes of harsh
breezes lighting the pathway
home as audible beacons
in the night salute her presence
with deference and respect
for a daughter who returns
to a new home.
Celebrations ensue as a
matter of expectation and course,
followed by the inevitable hugs
and kisses reserved for new
beginnings not farewells.
Daisy decides to stay, after
a year long journey, traveling
the world, the universe, with
lots to report, but preferring
after the journey to be with those
who love her and with whom
she feels safe and happy.
Welcome home dear and
SCALES AND MIRRORS
What’s in a shape? Everything.
Everything is defined by it – everything explained by it. Shape is everything. Without it there’s nothing, as if nothing was something, but without shape why bother? Even a blob has shape – even a blob is defined as a blob, or a blotch as a blotch.
A teddy bear, a real bear, a filing cabinet, a picture. If a picture’s a picture, then it’s shaped like one, otherwise it isn’t a picture. A blanket is a blanket because of its shape. Ever see a blanket shaped like a lampshade and still called a blanket?
The key to understanding all that surrounds us is shape, not math, not accounting, not science, not anything but shape. Shape crafted, whether by us or another or a process is art. So, shape, thus craft, thus art defines our world. A molecule isn’t an atom. The configuration, thus shape tells us so. Not energy either, except that which is required to recognize or reproduce a shape as a shape, or art as art, craft as craft. No shape, no art, no craft, then no us. Thus energy is the foundation of our creation. It’s the foundation of all shape.
A fan. Well, I can fan myself with a blanket, but it’s not a fan; it’s a blanket. I can put a lampshade on my head, but it’s not a hat; it’s a lampshade. I could put a sack on my back but I’m not a camel. And we all know this by the shape of what we observe.
We can hang a plate on the wall. That doesn’t make the plate the wall. You can’t put a wall on a plate. You can draw a wall on a plate, but we all know what’s the image of the wall – on the plate.
Shapes and images, scales and mirrors, reality vs. reflection, exist simultaneously to excite our senses to keep us alert to fraud in the reality of the senses, and in the reflective sense, to help us capture the beauty and agony of life – as we learn from the discrepancy.
Lake Erie disappears when the fog rolls in.
Downtown Cleveland High Rise Skyline disappears too.
All the high rises succumb to the rolling fog.
Then it settles, waiting for its next instruction,
making you feel the comfort of a smaller world.
When it decides to recede, like the waves in the Great Lake it blankets,
leaving a clear and startling new view,
I am always uplifted by the process.
I’m dead. I’ve been dead for a very long time.
No amount of life can infuse itself into my heart, soul or brain to change the death of me.
Still…I walk, I talk, work, write, love.
How can that be – a dead person still standing tall?
5TH COMMUNICATION: God never says goodbye.
I emptied hell, locked the door and threw away the key.
Hell is now empty.
TO LITHUANIA – A POEM
I can write this in the dark, but I can’t read this in the light. That’s the poem.
The next is all political, just as you have become.
I am ashamed of Lithuania – that you would go with whoever wants you, instead of who you want.
If you want to dance, then dance with the Five Principles, or don’t dance at all.
WHERE HAVE I BEEN?
When you go meatless you find yourself attracted to more variety in your condiments, spices and herbs. In fact, in every category of meatless, you begin noticing that which was previously blurred by the meat being the center of attention – differences in pastas, rices, veggies, beans, even something as common as ketchup and mustard becomes an adventure in trying new flavors, textures and uses. Italian seasoning no longer satisfies you as the only herb in your herb closet.
It’s all about nuances now.
Orange juice is no longer just orange juice. Where have I been, you find yourself asking yourself? There are so many different types of orange juice and every other juice, juices you never even heard of, that a whole lot of people are drinking these days.
One salad dressing for your salad will no longer do you, when there’s a whole world of salad dressings out there waiting for you to try. Every single animal-free/meatless category is a whole wide world of its own.
Going meatless, even for one day a week, opens your brain, thus your mind, thus your spirit, thus your body, thus your taste buds to what you’ve been missing all this time and didn’t know it. Yes, the meat was definitely the center of everybody’s attention. The meat hogged the whole show so to speak. Kept you from enjoying anything but eating them is how it worked out.
But now you know it isn’t all about the meat. It’s about you and your taste buds and your health, and your well-being. And why would I want to kill somebody for myplate? For mybrain? mymind? myspirit? mybody? mytastebuds?
It sounds more like it was because of somebody else’s plate, brain, mind, spirit, body, taste buds, that I was making the meat (the animal) the center of my attention. Food brain-washing begins in infancy.
What are these new nuances of flavors and textures all about? Before I only wanted one flavor, one texture: MEAT.
My whole world is changing…and I’m liking where it’s taking me. There are so many worlds to explore within the animal-free/meatless category that I never knew existed – because the meat, the animal, stole my world view. The meat took all of my effort, my energy, my thoughts, away from everything else, so I could see only the meat and the meat could only see me. It’s like an addiction; it consumes you. Here I thought I was consuming It, and all the while It was consuming me.
First you free the animal. Then the animal frees you. ~ Sharon Lee Davies-Tight
I AM AN ANIMAL-RIGHTS ACTIVIST. I AM A HUMAN ANIMAL RIGHTS ACTIVIST. I AM AN ANTI-TERRORISM ACTIVIST. PEACE WITHOUT SACRIFICE IS MY IDEOLOGY. MY NAME IS Sharon Lee Davies-Tight. I communicate through WORD, ACTION, FOOD, ART. And my GOD communicates through ME. Drop a dime and I’ll say your name to my God. ONLY THE NAME, SO BE PRECISE.