Every Little One

when the day goes down on watertown
when the sun sinks low all around
that’s when i know i need you now
yes you’re what i miss

every little kiss
every little one

I come from a place that is all light.

I know: because, even, grounded, here, I’ve seenlet there be it. Multiple times.

I see it now.

But here, on this planet, it is most commonly believed that there cannot be light, without darkness.

Nah.

There is this pretty sad persistent duality disability here. Gotta have everything in oppositional twos. Light/dark. Yin/yang. Good/evil. Etc./etc.

Nah.

Where I come from, there is no duality. But instead infinite multiplicity. Which resolves always into light.

And nobody needs darkness to define that light.

Long ago, we, from where I come from, said just this:

There is no darkness anywhere. There are only sick little men who have turned away from the light.

I have all my lights on.

And it is my own face I see in the blazing windows of all the houses on earth.

But that was so long ago. Now there is no darkness, no sick little men. Only light. And all our own faces, blazing in light, from every illuminated window.

Light is just all there is. All gold, all streaming, all forever. All, all right.

This past week, if you were an American, and if you were connected to America, the term and the town of Watertown came crashing into your consciousness. And not in a good way. It came in via violence, and mayhem, and unknowing, and fear. And it squatted like a nasty poisonous toad, across your life.

I love Watertown. The name and the idea of it. I have since it first entered my consciousness.

That was in 1986. I was walking down a street in the Mission District of San Francisco. And from a tiny sliver of a pizza parlor sounded a song I had never heard before, from a band I had never heard before. The song, “Every Little Kiss,” I later learned, by something called Bruce Hornsby and the Range.

I was in that instant transported. Not easy in a city. Cities—like money, and guns, and jobs—among those things that are, soon, going to go. They have to. For they are artificial and dangerous and de-evolved anti-life entities.

Still, if one must be in a city, San Francisco was one, then, to be in.

And, in that city, upon hearing that song, I was transfixed. Drilled to the sidewalk. I had one of those onrushing clarifying totally experienced experiences: that all is all right, and always will be.

Everything in that moment seemed open and possible to me. Because in every moment it always is.

I can recall that moment now, twenty-seven years later, better than I can recall what happened to me an hour ago. Because that moment was real. And so oh-ee-umphmuch of the rest of it is just slogging through the sludgy eyes-wide-shut motions.

And what I experienced then, twenty-seven years ago, of Watertown, as transmitted to me through “Every Little Kiss,” is what Watertown is.

It is not that recent-week fraught place of violence and fear. It is not non-ordinary brothers said to have careened through vomiting out every car door bombs and bullets. It is not stolid phalanxes of armed-past-the-tits security goons, in reaction, marching marching marching to Pretoria. It is not a place of darkness.

It is a place of light.

It is, like anywhere else, about somebody wanting to curl up next to somebody.

A man has two legs.
He’ll build a house—from cellar to rooftop, with his own hands.
He’ll put seeds in the ground.
He’ll watch the sun and the rain at work.
He’ll take a woman to bed.
He’ll find enough tenderness and love to get him through the day.
You’d think that man deserved a little something.
You’d think that man was worthy of a jot or two of sympathy and consideration.
You’d think that maybe someone would say,
Let’s just let him alone for a while, and see what he can do.

It is like every other town of human beings on earth.

Occasionally bad people will run through it. But it’s error to think the dark exceptions are the rule. Anywhere. Because the rule is the light. Everywhere.

Eros is always ascendant over Thanatos. Maybe only barely. But ascendant she always is. Else we wouldn’t be here. But we are. And always shall be. Unto The Great Wide Open.

You do realize that everything is connected. That there are no coincidences. And that all is leading into only light.

Among those extinguished in the Boston into the great wide openbombing was a young boy who, in response to the extinguishing of Trayvon Martin, inscribed a sign that said “No More Hurting People.”

What more do you need. To know that there is a conscious universe. That it is willfully expanding all towards light.

Just kiss. With love. That’s all there is to it. Into The Great Wide Open. Into the light. Bring everybody along with you. With every little one.

Here’s how it works. In the video below, the sweet little white boy is missing his sweetheart. He’s out there in Watertown. But, in Reality, in all of his being, he’s anywhere she may be.

Nothing matters, not to him, but her.

He’s at this moment especially and intensely connected to her, through his presence in Watertown. Because of the four elements without which humans cannot live—air, fire, water, earth—water is the most sensual. And he is at present immersed in a whole town of it.

At 5:03 in this video, he enters the zone. Not Bach, not Beethoven, just earnest sloppy rocknroll, but he gets There. To where it could just keep going like that forever. All Eros, no Thanatos, anywhere around. And, in his smile, you know he knows it: is riding, so high, knows it could keep on going like that forever.

Because it does.

In the place of all light.

Where I come from.

As do you.

every little kiss
every little one
little one

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35 Responses to “Every Little One”


  1. 1 mieprowan April 20, 2013 at 8:56 pm

    Have you read this stunning piece about the Boston bombing?

    (sorry for breaking up the link, but WordPress thinks all comments with links embedded are spam)

    //bellejarblog dot wordpress dot com/2013/04/20/a-love-letter-to-boston/

  2. 4 mieprowan April 20, 2013 at 9:02 pm

    Reblogged this on There Are So Many Things Wrong With This and commented:
    Good response to the Boston bombings from blueness.

  3. 5 mieprowan April 20, 2013 at 9:06 pm

    Also, thanks as always for being so upbeat, blueness. You really do help.

    • 6 bluenred April 20, 2013 at 10:14 pm

      Good. ; )

    • 7 Alexa April 24, 2013 at 1:18 pm

      he is so helpful, true . . . blueness has been my closest friend for the last ten years or more, through good times and bad times, through sick and sin, even or perhaps especially when i did not deserve his loyalty.

      i have to be very honest, this is the best person i know. the best friend i have ever had. i just want to mention this because i know him blueness very well and the charge of “abusive to women” is ridiculous, completamente. he doesn’t deserve mean-spirited words or insults here on his blog. i have zero tolerance for any pickin’ on blueness.

  4. 9 Alexa April 21, 2013 at 1:41 am

    this is truly extraordinary, mi abejo. thank you very much.

  5. 10 Alexa April 21, 2013 at 1:44 am

    that entire album is a total keeper. i like Valley Road and Mandolin Rain but this song is the best, and a perfect accompaniment to your fine essay. 😉

  6. 25 possum April 21, 2013 at 3:19 am

    In Possum Valley upon awakening every day a choice is made. Live in a place of light or not. It is good to see others find light everywhere and all the time. Thank you for the inspiration.

  7. 34 Alexa April 24, 2013 at 12:18 am

    there are others from our PEX days i could ask about Russian history. i’d rather drink Drano than ask for anything, honeybee . . . . but i have no problema in doing my own reseach/dirty work if i can just get a stretch of quiet when not so sleep-deprived.

    • 35 Alexa April 24, 2013 at 1:26 pm

      i dabble a bit online, when i can’t sleep, but more at legal blogs or occasionally tech/geek sites or Jezebel. only a few times have i seen anyone i know from political sites there. social media, i’ll let y’all have it. 😉


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