I wrote this song shortly after moving to Florida in 1989. It gets nearly as much airplay as my hit “No Excuses” (sold under 2 million copies). The persistent question is, “What does it mean?”

“Whatever you think it means,” I usually answer, “is what it means.” Truth.

I arrived in the buckle of the Baptist Belt with the area immersed in controversy over a PBS TV series. The local churhie KKK inhabitants of Duval County were threatening to pull funding from the station if it broadcast the Bill Moyer series of interviews with Joseph Campbell (having never seen it).

The Power of Myth frightened these pitiful creatures. It exposed their religion for what it was: a collection of myths. Myth – a traditional story, especially one concerning the early history of a people or explaining some natural or social phenomenon, and typically involving supernatural beings or events.

Debate on the news reminded me of 1925 Dayton, Tennessee when John T. Scopes was tried for teaching the science of evolution. They felt that their “Old Time Religion” was being attacked again. They had heard that Campbell was challenging the very basis of their “faith”.

The following weekend, while sharing libations at a party, someone was expounding on the dangers of giving chicken bones to dogs – another myth, told by old wives. I couldn’t hold myself any longer. “That is a myth. Dogs that die from chicken bones are simply being eliminated by evolution.” Silence.

Twenty conversations stopped simultaneously. Some glared at me. Some looked away. A few gals looked at me with disbelief. None laughed or agreed.

I stood in the daunting quiet of drunken rednecks fully expecting them to point at me and screech, “Witch. Witch. Witch.”

I was perfectly fine with their beliefs of a Man-In-The-Sky who watched everything they did and helped their athletes score touchdowns. They were not OK with my independent thought that science provided a better explanation than their fables written by ignorant ancients. I was a Witch.

I watched The Power of Myth while I was still in the Land Beyond Reality. It was a concise explanation of stories common across all cultures. Brilliant illumination of the origins of myths and how they recur throughout history.

I took away a greater appreciation for humanity. My new neighbors collected to defend their “beliefs” by banning any discussion that may challenge their “beliefs”.

There would be no enlightenment allowed!

Don’t Touch The Gods

I see a breaking cloud
With the face of someone I love.
I’ve drawn the attention of those
Who seek inspiration from above.

They’ve been waiting, Oh yes waiting
Waiting for a sign.
Searching, ever searching
Searching for the sublime.

And the drowsy water episodes
Cascading from ancient skies
Suckling life’s eternal evolution.

You can reach for the sky,
But don’t touch the Gods.
You can touch the sky,
But don’t touch the Gods.

The reproductive blush that seduces
As the stormy night produces,
The flood of sustaining milk-blood.

You can feel the sky,
But don’t touch the Gods.
You can caress the sky,
But don’t touch the Gods.

Nomadic aliens, prophetic priests
All-powerful, All-knowing,
We expect it all.

There’s a dance in the village tonight,
A worship of wine and fertility.
Naked twirling’s, erotic swirling’s,
It’s the festival of the Ass.

Seek the light within us all,
But don’t touch the Gods.
Attempt to understand it all,
But don’t touch the Gods.

Cast off the damnation of wondering.
Feel the freedom that of spiritual nakedness.
Align yourself with the celestial rhythm,
Feel the freedom that acceptance brings.

You can merge with the sky,
But don’t touch the Gods.
You can know the everlasting truth,
But don’t touch the Gods.
You can ponder the immortality of a star,
But don’t touch the Gods.

Is existence not enough???