The Morning, Brilliant Blue

Issue #7 - Springtime 2025

In this issue, scroll on down to:

• Dear Friends in the Wind

• Love Everywhere You Look

• An Irish Goodbye (I never knew it was called that)

• Song (with video) - Flag of Human Kindness

• Breathing Our Way Through the Chaos

• APR 27 Concert on Zoom

• Les’s Horses

• The Moon and Me

• Breathing Into Your Life

• Thank You for Visiting

Dear Friends in the Wind,

In the last few weeks, I have written you several letters and essays and even humorous pieces. And within a few hours there would seem to be such upside down horrifying news in our country, thousands of more people suddenly without jobs, hundreds of immigrants on planes to inhumane El Salvador prisons, friendly countries threatened cruelly and of course various oceans renamed, that it rendered my letters to you flimsy and silly.

It seemed to me to be much as if, when the fires in LA were burning furiously, I had written to you from one of those neighborhoods, but only mentioned my new shoes that finally came in from Etsy. We must learn in this time how to feel what we feel, even if it is rage and fear, but also to not lose our ability to feel love and kindness day to day.

So I am writing to you anew today. Some of what I’ve been compiling for you this month, you will see here — and several things that I just closed my eyes and wrote today. I trust you’ll feel that whatever I write, I was moved to write. As with my songs all these years and decades, every one of them was meant to contain love. Same here.

I apologize for holding off these last weeks. I know from the things I have posted online recently that most often, people are comforted to read my words and want me to know that. I always hope that is true. There is only one real reason to write The Morning, Brilliant Blue. And that is in kindness and hope that your life is a tiny bit brighter for reading it.

Your friend also in the wind, Michael Tomlinson

---

Love Everywhere You Look

I WAS IN The Red Cup Cafe last week, reading the last chapter of a very rich and beautiful novel — A Covenant With Water. It was a hard-won accomplishment getting to those last twenty of its 700-something pages, the endless names and places, births and deaths, comingled to become a colorful, yet convoluted test of memory. I really wanted to finally finish it that day, right where I sat. So I was immersed in the world of the book and hard to shake from my trance.

Subtly, from the periphery of my left eye, some shapes moved past me to the other end of my long table and something about them made me look. As my vision adjusted to things farther away than a page, I saw a mother with her 2-year boy old leading the way and her almost-one-year-old daughter in her stroller. With her son in his chair at the other end of the table and the stroller snugged up out of the way, she walked a few feet over to the counter and placed an order and brought back a cinnamon roll and then showed her two year old how to start unwinding it. His little fingers were guided by hers so that he might learn the workings of a spiral and how best to master its undoing. Or maybe not, but something kind of like that, I think. Even before he got his first taste, he was already mesmerized by the scroll unwinding to reveal the rich, shiny-dark cinnamon inside. He took his first bite and his eyes lit up and his face grew golden and I could taste what he tasted all the way to my end of the table. Mom just looked on smiling. I went back to my book but kept seeing the family instead of words on a page.

I happened to look up a few minutes later when the little boy saw something behind me and lifted up from his chair as if levitating. His arms made a big Vee as he watched. His tall, handsome daddy had just entered the door and walked around me to the far end of the table. The first thing he did was to reach down and place his hands gently behind his wife’s head and lean in and kiss her lightly on the lips. He lingered a moment eye to eye for their love to mingle. Then he left her and went to his little waiting son with cinnamon on his cheeks and fingers. Daddy bent forward with his hands gently behind his boy’s shoulders and touched their foreheads together. He held his head there while speaking softly to his son. It felt as if he was not only sharing love, but honoring each member of his family one by one. In that moment, the world seemed perfect to me. Every single thing as it should be. The fragrance of cinnamon made it indelible.

Dad then traded chairs with Mom, so she could be a little freer and have room to take some bites of food herself. He lifted their baby girl out of her stroller and talked to her closely, face to face. She was filled with his gentleness — and he with hers. I broke free from staring and went back to my book, not wanting to invade their precious moment. But also, completely unable to focus upon the words because I was still thinking about them. I read that page three or four times — but retained nothing.

There was no chance I was finishing my book in that setting. So I closed it and just sat there sipping my tea with people all around. I guess you could say I was living on the love of that family and completely blissed doing it. After a while I gathered up my stuff and leaned into the kitchen to see if I could make the staff laugh, and then I walked outside. That small lovely family had colored every single thing within my vision. It’s a wonder when that happens, isn’t it? You see undeniable love and then your eyes spread it all over everything. A few minutes earlier you thought the world too cruel and our current history impossible to live in. Then a few kisses and whispers and hugs later you remember once again that the only thing that is ever really real . . . is love. And that it is never not there. ~ Michael Tomlinson

---

An Irish Goodbye (I never knew it was called that)

I GUESS I SHOULD TELL YOU about my historic trait of slipping away from parties & events without telling a soul. Yes, funerals and weddings too, but just for the sake of sanity and survival. At many gatherings I’m right there grinning, laughing, talking and enjoying which ever little cluster of minglers I’m a part of, then zzzzzzzzzip! I’m gone. I never know for sure how anyone will react to this simple personal preference for quiet exits. It’s my intention that no one ever even notices. However, it’s been a subject among my friends off and on through the years.

Usually, the guys I tell about it — especially the married ones — will get an excited look on their faces and gaze off blissfully into the distance, remembering times they nearly did it but lost their nerve. But rather than to state whether they’d love to do that sometime, they usually shake their heads and say — like my friend Ken often did, “Oh, man! Miriam would not be happy about that!” That was a frequent response of Ken’s to any number of my thoughts and stories.

Women I know, on the other hand, will nearly always gasp audibly and slap my arm to reprimand me for the potential hurt feelings I am so callously leaving strewn in my wake. “That’s mean! People need to know you had a good time and that you loved the party!” To which I might reply, “Oh come on! People will get over it! They saw me laughing! It’s just a guy going home to play his guitar or ride his bike. Surely, they’d want the best for me!” But no. Most women I know definitely do not believe people would want the best for me if leaving without goodbyes is my crime.

I almost forgot to say why I do this. It’s so very simple really, and I think you’ll agree with this part; To say goodbye . . . . is to stay another hour!!! Am I right, fellas? And when you’re really ready to go, and you see an opportunity to do it quickly, well . . . So I just slip out by way of the path of least resistance. Many, many times I’ve gone into the kitchen to get a glass of water — and then an hour later people wonder where I went. It really is fun.

But see? It’s not that I set out to do this. I don’t GO to a party with that intention. It’s just always a good possibility. Still, I never arrive at the front door of a party, walking up to the door mumbling, “I’m gettin’ the hell outta here, pronto!” No, not at all! I’m a happy attendee, pleased to be embarking upon a friendly visit. What happens though is kind of like that feeling you get in an art gallery or museum after say, 35-minutes when suddenly your energy is zapped and you have to turn and plead, “Honey, I-I’m feelin’ a little dizzyish. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to keeping being in here anymore. You just go right on ahead though and stay as long as you like. I’ll be outside sitting on the curb.” I know, it doesn’t come off good on paper.

I wish I knew a better way, I really do. But much as when you’re at someone’s house and they choose that moment to spray Raid under the kitchen sink, you just automatically start to realize that you’re not going to be capable of staying much longer.

Now, please understand, there are some rules even I abide by. For instance, there have to be enough people there that your disappearance isn’t alarming. I would never slip away from a four person dinner party, for instance. Also, this is how police are unnecessarily called and kidnapping alerts put out over TV. I don’t think that’s ever happened with me, but if it has, I’m really sorry.

But if you’ve got up to 8 or 10 lively talkers, heck, they don’t need me! That’s when there’s a decent chance that I’ll have crawled out a bedroom window. Yes, I did that once. For highest chances of success, 20 or more sapiens is ideal. And by “success,” I mean that nobody notices till the end of the party — or even a day or two later — that I’ve disappeared. I have many times chuckled all the way home knowing that to whomever I last said, “Hold that thought! Be right back!” might still be standing there holding a thought.

You’d be surprised at just how long seven people can take to notice that “Li’l Mikie sure does take a looooooong time in the bathroom, don’t he?” He don’t really. But he don’t mind if people thinks that he does so that he can, in actuality, be 7 glorious miles away, giggling on the freeway and almost home. I’m fine knowing people might be back at the party, huddled together at the bathroom door, trying to talk me down. In fact, it’s a charming idea, bringing people together like that. I would bet that somewhere there are two people who forged a wonderful friendship hunting up and down an alley for me after someone noticed the bathroom window open at a party on a winter night.

Well, I could go on and on with this, I’ve a hundred examples to share, but I’m aware that once you’re past the age of fifteen, these types of tales are just not as charming. I really just wanted you to know in case you ever invite me over. Just know that my disappearance has absolutely nothing to do with how much I enjoyed the gravy at dinner. It was fantastic! ~ Michael Tomlinson

---

SONG (with video) - Flag of Human Kindness

I hope you’ll listen closely to this song which means even more to me in this time.

---

Breathing Our Way Through the Chaos

ONE MAN — OR EVEN TWO — ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN OUR LIVES unless we surrender to the insanity as if it was real. I am NOT going to start calling an entire body of ocean another name because some undeveloped child-mind has declared it The Gulf of America. I am not going to be enemies with other beloved countries and their people. Absolutely not.

I’m not going to support the takeover of other nations, of coastlines or canals or deserts. I am not going to ever say or believe or support the capture of immigrants, whether with papers or not, and their being sent to horrifying prisons in third world nations.

What I know is this; There are millions of people who felt divided by their opposing votes last November — and now, astonishingly, there are millions of them coming together to unite. It brings comfort to my heart even thinking of us standing together. I’m not guessing — I know that as a result of these extreme, illicit, illegal and malevolent actions taken by our government, so many more of us have come into alignment with each other. We do not support these cruel actions. We do not support firing thousands of people with no notice — and then pretending that those employees were stealing from us, deceiving us. That is not what was happening. The great majority of those government office workers were just like us — doing their best to make a living and have a decent life. National Park employees, School System employees and teachers and administrators were NOT performing poorly! Health Care Workers were not careless in their work, they were dedicated, working in the most stressful jobs in our country, saving lives, helping people to live longer, comforting families by administering merciful care to loved ones. And our military veterans deserve and need MORE staff and support though the VA, and in no way less.

I have been heartened and given hope in the midst of this insanity by the leaders and people of Canada and Mexico and European nations. I have heard over and over again, “We do not wish harm to the American people. We know these choices are not YOUR choices.” Everywhere that people and nations have a way of exerting pressure to stop the cruelty, I am grateful for. We know that the tariffs are going to hurt us and the whole world. We know there will be some collapses of markets and banks and businesses that are completely unnecessary. We will outlast it. We will survive it and love each other for keeping our own integrity and dignity and holding that vision for each other.

But what can we do up close in our own lives, our families, homes and friendships? I’m not talking about the outward actions, marching, supporting, calling, writing, donating and protesting. We must do those things where we see openings. But what is at the heart of all manifestation, healing, well-being and balancing? LOVE and CLEAR VISION.

We can’t allow ourselves to be so filled with hate and rage that we harbor and allow them to grow. We are going to feel anger, fear, pain, sorrow, loss. No way around it. But how do we develop the mastery and wisdom to not be owned by those emotions? How do we become stronger, more loving, insightful, brilliant and compassionate as we encounter these harmful executive orders?

We BREATHE. That the first key to every gift you have. To pause and breathe several times a day will change you in ways you will come to realize as the greatest gifts of your life. To be willing to pause and feel your emotions, however hard and painful, is the natural way humans were made to be. To avoid feeling never works. That is where you stuff the feelings you do not want to have. And then compress others on top of them. Mental-emotional illness, conflict and illness results. We’ve done it since birth because we were not shown how to really feel what we feel. The only reason feelings and emotions exist is to be felt. If we do that, and we breathe through them, the feelings become something healthier. And always, they hurt less and less as they transmute. In my life I have experienced extremely painful feelings of grief and loss turn into beauty and gratitude when I simply sat breathing and feeling what is there inside me. Once you start, it is not frightening.

Also, there is nothing in breathing that is against your religion. Not one thing. So just pause and breathe several times a day. And when you are feeling dread or worry? Pause and breathe with those feelings too.

When you have moments of hope, where you think you see some good things becoming possible — as I do when I see thousands of so-called left people and right people cheering together as they listen to leaders offer up truth and courage or booing when they hear lies and cowardice — breathe that in too. In the same way you would dive in and help people survive floods and fires — without asking for whom they voted — do that now. Love People Coming Together and more of this will happen.

The proof that breath is miraculous is YOU. You are alive. Life was breathed into you the day you were born. Who could need more proof? Peace to you. ~ Michael Tomlinson

P.S. This is a slightly rewritten piece I shared on FB a few days ago. Because so many people wrote to tell me it was helpful and lightening to them, I wanted to share it with this larger group.

---

APR 27 CONCERT on ZOOM - SONGS OF LOVE, HOPE, and KINDNESS

An evening of relief from jagged bits of news and events. You in your living room, me in mine, all of us feeling like we’re in the same place, coast to coast. The only theme is this; songs of love and beauty and inspiration. I hardly even have to make a play list. Everything I have fits under one of those titles. Plus, I have some new songs most of you haven’t heard.

As you can see, I go to great lengths to create a space that delights the eyes and senses. I want you to feel special, to know that I care to make it that way for you. And you can’t beat a concert where you can wear your jammies and you don’t have to search for parking. Just put on your cozy wear and come plop down in the living room. I’ll do the rest. If you sing along, no one from management will show you out.

Sunday Apr 27 at 5pm Pacific - Tickets at www.michaeltomlinson.com

---

Les’s Horses

My friend Les, who was my friend in high school, has adopted and made a home for quite a few horses and donkeys. I’m always entertained by his stories and I’ve asked him to send us pics now and then to share. Thank you, Les.

“Hey Everyone, Meet Buttermilk, an 8 year old AQHA. He’s so social, loves everyone. It’s a miracle he’s standing still for this pic.” ~ Les

---

The Moon and Me

Someone has been turning on lamps in my living room. For close to six months an inflatable crescent moon has been coming on when I didn’t turn it on. You know those dainty lights on a gold wire, battery powered that you might use for holidays or sparkling decor? That’s them. I tape them behind the moon and for my online concerts and breathing/meditation gatherings every Thursday, the crescent moon is a sweet part of the mood I set. Well, somebody has been turning the moon on.

Then about two months ago their twin lights started coming on at the same time across the room. Same kind of tiny lights on a gold wire, battery powered. I’ve had both for years and they never did this. A couple of times in the last month, the batteries were dead. I watched them fade, fade, fade until the last blink happened and then darkness. The next evening, they came on again as brightly as if I’d recharged the batteries.

It’s so common now that I laugh sometimes, especially when both sets come on. The other set was a part of my Fedora Christmas tree this last Holiday Season. When I removed the tiny tree on the top fedora, the string of lights was left oddly hanging and draped down upon the conga drum the hats sit upon. Last Christmas’s decorations in disarray I guess you could say. I’m fine with it.

Some nights when they come on, I go through a long list of loved ones who have passed, friends and family. Is that you, Carson? Is that you, Brian? Danny? Joe? Marilyn? Mom? Dad? Triple the number of that list. Never is there a for sure sign. What I always know and give thanks for is that it surely reminds me that I am not alone and that I am loved and looked after,

It just happened again half an hour ago. I was thinking of writing a story for you about my mom. I noticed a few minutes later both lamps were flashing. “Mom? Is this you?” No for sure sign. But I remembered something beautiful that happened in this room a couple of years ago when I was doing a session with a wonderful medium by phone. She said, “Oh! Your mother is here! And a little dog. Does that mean anything to you?”

I laughed aloud that my little Bungee would be with my mom, who always wanted to meet her but was too many states away to do so. That day my friend the medium/light worker said, “Your mother wants you to know that she is so very proud of you.” It made me smile. And then she said, “And she says to tell you, She understands now.”

I didn’t need to ask the slightest question about that. I knew with my entire being what she meant and I had always known that when she left her body, she would understand. My mom was telling me that she had misunderstood that one must think of Jesus as she did and that there was no other way to eternity. I always knew that was not true but it was her biggest worry about me. In the calmest, most peaceful and sure part of my being I had always known we are all already embraced in eternal love.

What I had wanted to write to you about my mom was a simple story she told me near the end of her life when she was in horrible pain from arthritis and many other ailments. She was also deeply missing my father, who passed away before her. She told me on the phone one day that in her pain she had prayed to God to show her someone to be in service to.

A little while later she stepped out into the deliriously hot Tyler, Texas sun and was about to get in her scorching car and go to the grocery store. Two elderly black fellas were sitting under a tall shady oak tree just outside her place. One was sitting on the grass next to the other, a legless man in a wheel chair.

Mom said, “Well hi Ernie, what’re you boys up to?”

“Aw Shirley, we’s jis sittin’ out here wishin’ we had a popsicle. It sure is hot.”

Mom lit up brightly at the opportunity and said, “Well I’ll git y’all a popsicle, Ernie! I’m goin’ to the store right now.”

“You would? That’d be real nice of you, Shirley!”

Mom told me that she had almost burst into tears at how quickly God gave her someone to do something for. When she got back from buying groceries, before she took her groceries in, she pulled a big box out of one of the sacks and walked over and handed it to Ernie.

“What? Really? These is all for us? You got us a whole buncha popsicles, Shirley!” A box of 18, every color known to man.

That is the story I was going to tell you. Because ever since, when I hear from people going through difficult times, sadness, loss, depression, fear, after I ask them to breathe, the next thing I’ll suggest is to find someone to be in service to. It’ll pull your attention away from your own suffering and gratitude pours in. Even a small thing like bringing a couple of fellas some popsicles from the store. It’s amazing how big a space that can take in your heart and how much pain can go away when you do it.

And what you find out, that my mom found out too, is that it’s not the name you give your thanks to, it’s the amount of love in your heart when you do it.

I don’t know who’s turning my lamps on, but I feel really lucky that someone is. And I know I have someone with me all the time. They might even be taking turns. ~ Michael Tomlinson

---

Snoqualmie Moon photo by Rick Grant

Breathing Into Your Life

Every Thursday for four years a small group will gather on Zoom and we breathe and meditate and talk and laugh together. I sing a song, some share aloud if they wish, just an easy going time that has been reassuring and healing and uplifting for all of us. Join us sometime. Registration at www.michaeltomlinson.com

---

THANK YOU FOR VISITING

Thank you for visiting, my friends. I realize I write the longest letter on Substack. I’ve had some requests to make this letter a little shorter, but send more often. When I asked around, some said they like the longer version. Some said they forget to go back to it and read it all. We may try some new combination. My thoughts when I began this letter was that you might go back to it over a few days or a week. But I know that in reality, something left behind with the attention to read later — often never gets read. If you have any input ideas on this, please let me know.

For now, I guess I’d better get back to paying attention to the road. Happy Springtime to you. Don’t forget to take deep breaths and be kind to yourself.

Email me any ol’ time at mt@michaeltomlinson.com.

Your friend in the wind on a bicycle, Michael