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The Surety Makes The Difference. . . .
A Small Thing To Be Sure. . . . Lori came to my door while I sat and wished for a derrick to materialize to lift me unto my bed. It never happened but a small miracle did and gave me wings to soar by myself. Seems like a small thing? A really small…
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What We Feed Our Minds. . .
My Mentor said seeing you will not see and hearing you will not hear. I have long known that we are other than what we seem. When the veil was lifted for our middle son David and he saw what was his to see , he asked of me, how long have you been dodging…
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All Who I Am. . . with knees bent . .
I scribed October 10, 1983. . . We wait for this day. You hear the arguments in the head and you think all the while the hands do the mind’s bidding. In this we find a great interest and comfort knowing that it is possible to function in a secular life and continue to grow. …
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Life’s Adjuncts . . . like me. . . .
Life’s Adjuncts . . . It seems I drive my family crazy trying to follow my thinking. My mate of many years said too many times that George did not say what I repeated George said. I looked my mate straight in the eye and said then I elevated George’s thinking. Eyebrows shot up and…
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Even a little bit of difference. . . .
This potholder was made by our friend Sally’s mother. She made many of them and when she left this earth, Sally gave each of us a potholder to take home. And I tell you true, every time I have used this I bring to mind Sally’s mom to wonder if she made great strides in…
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Born With Conscience . . . .
and memory. . . . . . My readers are perceptive and I grasp eagerly what they say. One said there are places I would not be allowed to voice my thoughts or concerns. I have lived almost my entire life being cautioned as I left the house about what I say. I had no…
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The Work Of Being More Human. . .
On being a more human being. . . When I first decided to make a small table out of a no longer used chopping block, I think the cosmic forces went into cardiac care. I remembered safe practises learned from my brothers and sons, but neglected to secure the work on the table. With…
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Always. . . the farm woman. . . .
The Farm Woman. . Woman of the Earth, you are loved. You gather the fruits of your labors to your bosom and feed the children. You’ve inched your way along the path with back bent in great fatigue and cultivated the rows yielding wise fruit. You would feed out of your mouth, those you think…
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Life’s Connectedness is what must endure. . . . .
I wrote to Maria Wulf (fullmoonfiberart.com) for permission to share her post which drew my attention. It is such a deep pleasure for one like me to share the larger picture when our thoughts merge. There is a connection in the soul that has no word coming to mind, describing what happens when an Other…
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And is god enough . . . . .of course. . .
So Who Cares. . . Nobody they say. . . Except you know you do. . . All it takes is just one I hear, to look for the sun to rise each morning. . . . to look at the moon at night and wonder, . . . . where home is. .…