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I Had Earned The Right. . .
Events take on proportion that surprise even us who experienced the event. Wondering why in looking back they were significant to us when to others they would be a non event. But to us they often are a turning point, a point of growth and in that who we are now or what we…
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Tracks. . .
Tracks. . . Check on that for me and find out whether the tracks are a rabbit’s tracks. See if in the new snow they lead under the porch. It has been such an old house for so long, even I think, when it was first built. It has seen with eyes blinking…
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This Is Our Planet Earth. . . love her. . .
photo by Joe Hallissey Jr.
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We Don’t Junk Humans. . .
We Don’t Junk Humans. . . People will always question the validity of one’s commitments and one’s purpose. When I am questioned I can only say I see what is mine to see. Regardless though of the mental and emotional garbage one carries, there is always what someone does that has a redeeming value. We…
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From The Top Of My Heart. . .
(January 29, 2017 journal entry I want to share. It is only in rereading that I realize that I connect all manner of things in thought. It is the reason for my seamless existence. It all connects.) Man cannot put in what God has left out. Joe Biden in the Clarence Thomas hearings said…
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What I See. . .
On Different Perspectives. . . . What is so apparent to you is not apparent to the Other. To view with compassion is difficult when the vision of the Other is limited. He/she would wish another just like them. Just as you would wish to share your vision. It is a common human condition and…
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Old Friends Breaking Bread. . .
Oftentimes the greater picture is chosen to be forgotten because it is necessary to have the script as authentic as possible. If knowledge were part of the picture, chances for the lessons to be taught would be hampered. So love is as powerful as the anguish and the angst in their teaching the veracity of…
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This Valentine Heart. . .
It is a truth. . . . Sometimes we cannot improve upon a something that supports a truth and this is one of those times for me. On this Valentine’s Day, to all who are bereft and do not or have not known love, what is missed is something you have known somewhere at some…
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We Need Not Speak. . .
We Need Not Speak. . . We need not speak. Centuries ago we passed from realms noted for words. We now simply look toward the Other and know by obvious signs what the Other seeks. It is a far cry from the world of words where the simple I love you spoke what…
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The Illusion. . .
THE ILLUSION I try to grasp your beloved face, graphically placing it on the mind’s canvas, filling the valleys with fuller’s earth and chiseling the planes with a serpent’s tooth. Devouring every detail with a feverish eye to circumvent time’s mortal immortality. But why do I bother with mortal flesh precluding…