Answers That Know The Questions To Ask


The Lady Of The Blue Cloths

Can we go today, he asked?  Perplexed, I looked at him and wondered now where since most of the errands were done that we considered a must.  Soon the holidays would be upon us.

To the lady with the blue cloths, he said.  To the lady who knows things.  And of course, I said.  You haven’t asked for a long time.  Because he said,  I knowed when I ask-ed the question!  And how, I wondered, but first we needed to get ready.

Soon we were on the way.  He was quiet and wondering his wonders.  I asked him again how he knew the answer when he just had asked the question!  He stuttered for a bit and  looked straight ahead.  You know, he said, when I ask-ed myself a question.  I wait and knowed I knowed the answer when I aske-ed the question.  Somehow,  pieces come into  places, he stammered,  like puzzles and I knowed that I knowed but I  had to  ask out loud.

I listened to this and still wondered.  But why then do we need to see the lady of the blue cloths?  Because he said, because.   Because it is almost time for the  Glooorrrriaaaaaaaaa time he said and I needs to find out from her some things she knows.   Her answers he said, not mine answers.

We were met by his friend at the door of the shop and she led us to her table.  She held his hand a minute and their hearts melded.  Why, she asked, are you wondering how to say it?  I am thinking he said, how you knowed what you knowed without asking questions out loud?   She touched his cheek.  Like you she said.  When I feel a light breath on my cheek or a warm hand on my shoulder even if no one is there,  I know my angel is.  And knows my question.  So by the time I put the question into words, the answer is in my heart.

I thinked that way so with me, he said.  I knowed you would know he said because I know too.  I think real hard and in my head  pieces like puzzle come together.  Angels are good friends,  real friends.  He got up to go.  Never afraid he said,  never afraid.  Angels carry blue cloths.  They say blue cloths good to wipe tears.  You have lots of angels here.  I come back just to see them?

Any time, she said.  With the holy days we have lots of them.  They follow me sometime he said, follow.  Never alone, I never alone.  She smiled at me in leaving and gave me her hand.  The warmth of it raced to my heart and I drew breath.  You are good for this one, she said.  You are good.  Charged,  himself and I floated home.

Painting by
Claudia Hallissey






How Much Of A Difference

It was morning
though the night still hung heavy,
the clouds hovered,
the sun unable to rise.

The children gathered for breakfast,
morose, unhappy and angry,
heavy still with sleep.
Mother looked with unhappy eyes
and father, already delayed
flew out the door.

What could she plan
for this crew this night
as she scrutinized each face
when they exited.

That night the same faces
appeared to sup together,
hostile, unable to summon
the good things of the day.
Seated, they glowered
and the mother, with hope
passed the platter.

Have some love, she murmured,
as she handed the platter to the eldest.
Puzzled, he helped himself
and in unbelief said to his sibling,
have some love.

And around the table the faces changed
as the platter of love was passed
and with a whisper
bestowed its blessing by each one.
The father then picked up a plate to share
and to his surprise murmured, I bring peace.

And around the table, peace was passed
to accompany the main course of love
and talks resumed and the world
was given another chance.

On a level we cannot enter,
we cannot know how much of a difference
it takes to make a difference.


(Do you think that the problems in the rest of the world are of a greater nature than the wars fought within the four walls of any home?  Think again for this is where the Cosmic Concern is.  What is handed out as ultimatums for the growing family is what we in turn will be concerned with a few years down the line.  Let us pass Peace at  our tables when we gather together for this day of Gratitude.)



Old Friends. . . .




Old Friends

I summoned courage
from every quarter
with friends who
fleshed out my life.

There was Valor. . . .
a recent one whom
I befriended
and Patience who gathered
the young and nurtured them.
He was special.

And among these
were Honesty, a brilliant one
and Honor who brought up
those who lagged.
But also Trust,
a good friend to have beside me.

Altogether we formed
a contingent sent out
to regroup those who diverted
for the moment of excitement.

It, of course, could not last
and the old friends
were called upon time and again
to replenish forces.

It is a hard game to play,
this one of breaking rules.
The cost is harsh
with little profit.

Enough it is
to make use of those things
that prevail with values
hard won over time and tested.

That is when the gold shows.


(double click on photo to bring up details)


The Significance Of The Common Search


The Teacher speaks and the scribe takes dictation. . . .

As long as the desire to accomplish is within us, there will be sufficient time to do what needs be done.  As long as what it is we wish to do is for others and for ourselves,  there will be sufficient time.  Time being a space in this dimension, has its own terrible cost.  It is a tyrant.  It is also a whip that has beaten its own inhabitants to a pulp.  Never intending to be used in such a way, man has made it his master.  Never stretching it to cover his wants as well as his needs, he has filled it more tightly with things to do and when taken out of context without his personality imprint, is simply just busy work.

We can give meaning to our work when it is filled with love.  We can give meaning when in our own desire to make a difference, we stretch ourselves to fill in the holes in the work when left to itself means little.  It is our own imprint, ourselves, that give meaning to what we find to fill our days.  The other, the work that cleans the premises, that gives beauty to the eye,  takes the heartbeat of who we are also.  It behooves us to make our space shine for those who come by and who also follow.

There is much that could be done within the confines of our premises.  There is much work to be done with those of our commitments.  What we do with them is of importance when it is done from the heart and with our own best motives.  All else simply becomes work.

It seems there is within us, all the knowledge of longstanding, but with the passage of time loses its impact.  There comes the time when in viewing what others simply let drop, the feeling that it hardly is worth the effort.  Yet the perseverance and the sticking to it is most necessary for others to gain entry into the sacred place of the heart.  It is most necessary to keep the circle intact and the other pursuing, even when our own pursuits are fulfilled.  Our least dropping away will soon discourage others from their own even little effort.  And they in turn will think they are not worth the effort.

What this presents to the efforts of the earth classroom is failure ensured.  We cannot allow this to happen without repercussions, even to the babes.  The whole depends on the integrated pursuit of the aims of those  who go the route and tire.  We watch the entire procedure with calmness at times and then we border on hysteria.  For the workers are few.  They are not in great number.  They work with no conscious memory and when the lack of memories and efforts become too much, they fade from the picture with work still to be done and leave the majority who cannot get out of their own way, to themselves.

This in itself is of no great import singly.  But when taken to the extent that the lights are extinguished in the group and the hibernation begins in numbers, then we know there is little that will give meaning and direction to the majority.  The effort required to keep the lamp burning in those of influence and not necessarily to mean world importance, but by singular effort, is immense and sometimes so overwhelming that further work is impossible.  We then use what we can to keep the process intact and start the individuals moving again.

Even when the track record is evident, aging precludes the sustained interest.  But we adjure and constantly encourage prolonged effort.  We must.  For we have so few in the fields.  In the vineyards.  The larger scope must always be employed.  We cannot let not even one be lost to the place of darkness and mist.  We count on our people of light.  We must for we have no other support in a world of closed circuitry.  We employ every means we can to keep the interest high.  The personal input is of major importance.  The aging body works against us.  And the feedback for this work is nil.  There is no one who bestows the kudos on the heads of the menial workers.  The words of comfort and encouragement no longer are heard and the larger picture fades from view and what we have are the nuclear boundaries.  So what we ask seems impossible.  To keep on keeping on when there is arid territory to plant and feed and urge into production seems a monumental task.  Yet we ask it again and again, keeping the worker in the field in the face of obstacles that a high jumper cannot navigate.

They cannot measure their impact nor fathom their influence.  This is of the individual we speak.  Not only the producer of works that gain attention but also of the cogs in the wheel that keep things balanced.  ‘Only’ seems to be a very little word,  yet to the cosmic populace, the word becomes holy.  The ‘only’ includes all those on whom the workload falls, the ones who balance the entire lot of worlds precariously swimming.  We hold to be of importance the ‘only.’  They are the ones who are shunned as the so called movers of the world and cast into the place of no importance.  They are not called to the summit for conferences where the world’s conflicts are discussed.  Only called to Mount Olympus where the holy work of the worlds is parceled out.  There is the word again, ‘only’ in conjunction with holy. 

No mail of worth comes to the door begging one’s presence.  No telephone call summoning one to the world’s conferences.  But neither is there the residue of regret, nor the hidden head in the sand hiding embarrassment.  There are, in fact, words hanging in midair of encouragement and those now willing to give it another try.  Another try and another try is what we ask our workers to give to others and to themselves.  We need the workers.  We need the ones whose vision contains elements not seen by the majority; the majority who yearn for role models of caliber.

We do not paint the pretty picture.  What we do paint is our need, the cosmic need.  The need to keep the classroom operative.  To give meaning to the dailyness of the population struggling with stress to find meaning of their own.  We know this and unfair as it seems, with no awards to hang one’s hat near, it is a work requiring doing and few know about.  When it seems futile, we ask again the workers to think again.  Instill within the neophyte the desire to improve one’s self,  one’s place,  one’s world.  The least effort is not wasted.  The smallest encouragement may be the encouragement that prevents total disaster.

The beds indeed must be changed to prevent contamination in a world of great numbers.  The babies must indeed know of those who love them and care.  The lonely soul trudging the inward path to procure meaning keeps another off the streets with the contact of one who has gone the route.  The beautifying of a relationship, the word to the lonely, the hand to grasp, the eye to contact is all the encouragement sometimes needed.  We cannot fathom the depths of life, of god. 

Life, god, renews himself, itself.  Summoning all of himself, herself, to the work involved, he reveals himself to himself.  And learns of the depths of who he is.  Always in the process of revealing,  of revelation, of learning, we struggle as god struggles, as life struggles to give meaning and to ensure the depth of it all.

There is a depth still to be probed.  There is a deep still to be revealed.  And the human body is a marked probe waiting and seeking its own depth.  Nowhere can we begin the excursion into the meaning of what surrounds us and to what we cover except by the dailyness of the common search.   It is of no use to think that we can cover distances in a leap of profound understanding.  The elements of discovery are step by step.  It is a work and one of excruciating pain.  It never was said to be easy nor light  but what was said was that it was going to be deeply satisfying for one who struggles with it all.  No one comes through but with some store of experience which translates into knowledge.  Somewhere.  And here it is that what the individual learns is applied to the group as a species and then is integrated into the whole.

Man was told that what is done for one is done for all.  The lesson is profound when taken seriously and applied to everything.  Not just to the case in hand but to all cases and to all hands.  Keep it always forefront.  The individual effort is noted and the heavens are not deaf nor are they blind.  And the homecoming is worth it all.

We ask the blessing on this day and allow all things their space, for the simplest and most menial task is only so when glimpsed within the structures of the day.  When taken to its completion, it becomes a sacred work of art.

artwork by Claudia Hallissey


It Is Enough



It Is Enough

It is enough. . . .
just breathing and feeling
the north wind
coming through the night.

It is enough. . . .
to stir my senses,
to lift me from my bed,
to get on with life.

It is enough. . . .
to work the dirty and sweaty labors
and point out
that in these are the gifts of life.

These are the beautiful,
along with the first snow
and the harvest intact and sealed.

And to find a reflection
of what I hold dear
in the eyes of an Other.

It is enough.

Art by Claudia Hallissey


We Are The Reflection. . . .


We  Are The Reflection . . . .

of what we worship.  We may not think in those terms,  but our actions reflect what we think to be highest and best within us.  For some seem to  have come a long way and they mean to go even further.  And push to extremes the psyche of man to the point where he will indeed proceed with the amelioration of his acts that only serve to propound the problems of the children, his children.  And we take them and give them a what for and say get on with it.  Stop taking your heritage as god given and sacred when your eyes tell you that problems will result that will only continue through the ages.

That within their crusty skins is the divine.  That within all that they are for this moment in their thinking is all that there is.  And if they demand more, then they make more.  For the god who shines in them is the reflection of what and who it is they worship.  And if they are not pleased with what they present, then they better get on with it.

Defeating?  What are now the options?  For centuries man has worshipped a god outside himself and it would not require a first rate intelligence to see what the morning papers blare out every day.  This is the god man worships and it would dismay them to think that they represent their god?  What is it about themselves that they do not like?  Is this all there  is or am I all there is?  Yes, pure and simple because until the understanding is broadened until the larger perspective is gained that encompasses all others,  this is all there is and they will be right back in the stew pot and not scot free for eternity.

What is there about themselves that shames them?  Time to clean up then, isn’t it?   Time now for a housecleaning with confessions and restorations to be done wholesale.  There is no time for mousing about.  We have babies with memories.  And the ability to see what is in the hearts of men.  And adults are now on the defensive.  And should be.

The larger, broader perspective deserves its time.  The grandfather image in the sky, outside of man, no longer serves.  We have listened to the laments for too long and our hearts also cringe when the prayers reach the hilt with the wailing.  These are souls in travail, having given birth and now reap the whirlwind. They feel abandoned and frightened.  That they were to assume accountability did not cross their minds.  That to simply get through life was not all that was required.  But to add to the physical dimension somehow escaped them.  Failure falls on all of our heads.  And ‘not knowing’ is no longer a tenable tenet.  The wail will not be heard but the mistakes will be picked up by those whose names are on them.

Simply traversing the schism separating man from his heaven does not necessarily bring enlightenment.  The process of housecleaning is painful and our nursing homes  are proof that this knowledge is innate and to be avoided at all costs.  What was not done while the doing could be remedial must be done at some time with the added burden of physical infirmity.  The shift to childishness is premeditated, thinking that avoidance would be whole scale.  The  god of their childhood would welcome them in their childish state.

What is not understood is this childlike faith, the utter knowledge of the child who enters the world complete with his memories  weaves his destiny through all worlds until the desire to focus comes.  Then decisions are made and oftentimes because of survival.   But if survival is the main ingredient of life, the options to learn are presented in all things.  The choice not to learn is a conscious choice, chosen because of ease.  Inserted within each life is the prime time for the option of learning and not necessarily in the formal classroom.  Time and again the inner voice is dismissed for various reasons.  And then old age is upon the person and what we have is a reversal, a conscious turning to the childish state so that the separation will not be painful.

And it works for many.  But what is involved is a lack of no insight, no enlightenment and the souls find themselves back in the frying pan so to speak, none the wiser for the journey.  The problems compound themselves and the cycle is incomplete.  What to do?

We study the ancients and this means ourselves.  What is asked, with intensity and motive discerned, will be granted.  But when work is involved, the individual too often opts for diversion from his primary task.  Or the long way around the barn is taken, thinking that good works justify the person.  Good works coupled with intent and motive, do.  But the union with the invisible self is imperative.  For only then will the good be transmuted into stable conditions with long lasting improvement.  Otherwise the measures are like a bandaid when the body is bleeding.

The conclusions reached when this journey begins are simply on the surface.  They must be applied to the greater picture and not limited to persons.  The suffering begins but the habits are now attacked with persistence.  It defies the thinking brain that what was sufficient at one time and brought awards is no longer sufficient.  But the depth of man is being penetrated and the work just begins.   The  time is now.


Simple Observations

Simple Observations

Creativity requires expression and the expression will take on the coloration of the individual souls.  And memory being what it is would soon color the manifestations, would soon color situations with a diversity that would promote problem situations in order for Beings to work and live together.  It is how worlds are born.


The only purpose in doing a thing is what you bring to it.  Without the personal intent to do good or bring beauty,  the work is dead.  It may look all right but if there is no life in the creation, the project’s life will be of short duration.


It is far easier to prolong a situation waiting for it to work itself out.  Confrontation is not for everyone.  Especially when history has shown on whose shoulders the workload will fall.


When a lesson is simply given, in simple words, there is an enormously complex system behind it.  With most of it unsaid.


Can  one demand that someone grow up?  How does one do that?  When something is outside our frame of reference or will require a something from us, we will fight tooth and nail to remain innocent and free of taint.  We preserve our naivety because we think the new will undo us.  That we will go babbling down the street and be caught by the fellows in white coats.  Far better to be comfortable in what is familiar, otherwise we might have to think.


If you keep yourself too tired to think, then of course you don’t have time to be afraid.


Your Holiday Shop


With a weekend visit from the grandson who encouraged this grandmother to blog back in 2011 and set me up,  we also went to work on my Shop of wall quilts and included again the books, The Last Bird Sings and Kiss The Moon,  The Woman Speaks and Gives Grace.   For those of you who have wondered why I have been lax about this diversion from what I call my headwork,  the reason is simply I have not known enough about setting up this particular section of my blog.   It seemed utterly complicated and much too difficult but not as difficult some of you would say as quantum theories?  The fact that I wander between two screens on my computer (and worlds?) is a wonder to me.  But there are some things that I need a someone to walk me through.  We now have the wall quilts in the Shop with dimensions and prices.

If you are interested, please contact me through my blog.  I will accept personal checks and money orders.  For personal checks,  do allow sufficient time for banks to do what they do.  And should you see something similar to what is sold, I cannot duplicate art of course,  (it never is quite the same anything) but I can and will do something similar.  The prices on the wall quilts do include shipping so that you know the price on each of them is the total price.  The books will be $17.00 each and that will include shipping also.  From now until January 1st,  I will offer The Last Bird Sings and Kiss The Moon for $30.00 for the two in one order  and that also will include shipping.

I hope we have made this a bit easier to look at and for you  to contact me.  I look forward to hearing from you soon.   With the oncoming holidays, perhaps this will be your one stop Shop for your favorite people.


You Know As Well As I. . . .


You Know As Well As I

You know as well as I. . . .
that when the air clears
and the morning is sharp. . . .
the night air brings
the sleep that rests. . .

when food again
pleases the appetite
needing palliative measures,
you will find
what is necessary to rise up
and go.

And know without question
upon Whom we live
and breathe and have our Being,
we will rise up and give thanks. . . .

because of All That We Are.

photo by John Holmes


We Are Becoming. . . .



We Are Becoming. . . .

The Physicist, David Bohm is quoted as saying that no theory can adequately explain all facets of Nature which is infinite.  And that quote  I read only this year affirmed my thinking.  For me it was a truth that anything or all things in the act of becoming will be impervious or inadequately explained all the time.  For a precise segment of time a theory may fit the conditions as they are known.   An infinite Nature constantly evolves.  And in our universe(s) which are in the act of becoming other than what we are at this moment,  what is a truth for today may indeed change with tomorrow’s  growing knowledge.  This is a difficult statement for most of us to accommodate.  Because in human thought a fact once discovered  should be so tomorrow as well as today.  Or as last week’s question went,  what can we safely eat today because it seems with this latest news everything is bad for us.   (I will be 85 soon so how bad has our food been?)

My thoughts on this follow Michael Talbot’s Holographic Universe, where explicate matter reflects an implicate center which rolls and enfolds into infinity. Can evolution (and already I can see where it is)  be the way to stabilize what is an illusion and give substance to matter to make it easier to learn what is necessary to promote life?  (An aspirin would help?)

My invisible support system has steered me through a lifetime of independent study.  The following poem was written in the summer of 1982 which shows the variable paths leading to a holographic universe and how a need to know can persist and discipline a life.   I had no idea there ever would be a place to draw breath let alone draw some conclusions.  I am grateful.  I am.

If You Can Bear The Truth

If they should ever ask you
from where comes this knowledge
and you can bear the truth,  tell them.

It was written in the stars
that I saw with inner vision,
shining exuberantly with a vitality
that bears description.
It was hung by a sun that had dried
my ancestors’ tears for a million centuries.

The lyrics have pressed my ears
in moans that I find unbearable.
Does not everyone hear the cries?
If they should ask you,  tell them this.

It is the music of celebration,
when one, even one,
is freed from a lifetime of servitude
to anguish clogging the throat.
This music is heard
down the long lines of generations
and will be mated in their genes.
They will glory in their freedom
and they will live forever.

So if they ask you
and you can bear the truth, tell them.
It was taught by my Spirit
spilling into my heart with no reprieve
and into my mind with no relief
It is a lifetime of no alibis
and a coping system diffused.

My teacher has no name.
Still the imprint is within my genes,
implanted within my ancestors’ memories,
resting within me.
They do not rest while I cannot.
My song continues, if only for me.
Enough it is

for me to break the waves.



photo by John Holmes


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