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AT The Precipice. . . .
At The Precipice. . . I stand at the precipice of the world, wobbly but still standing, with ancient years yielding to an Essence I refer to as the Great God. Who is it, I wonder with arms ready to receive me? Small and insignificant in this Earth place dressed in my humanity? How is…
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The Counselor. . . .
Oftentimes what I plan on doing does not happen. And in its place comes a something long incubating but not surfacing. In reading recently I came across the topic of emotions which brought Doris Lessing’s Shikasta series to mind. The series brought up many topics for consideration. And the subject of emotions are a topic…
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Approaching Earth Day. . . .as a lover. . . .
Love Letter To My Planet Earth My love affair started when I was about eight and laid upon the green grass and willed the clouds into playmates for my thoughts. I wished, I told my sky, I wished to be wise. I am not sure I knew what wise meant other than just plain smart.…
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Light Touches. . . . .
Light Touches Your light touch on the small of my back, gains for me a courage lacking sometimes to even climb the curb. I appreciate that. Somehow beneath the layers of what I hold to be the who of what I am, is a someone still of note. Comforting to lay my hand on the…
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Revelation. . .
The question is asked: What do I confront when I turn to my concept of education? That education is a thing of the heart and Spirit and no learned institution can impart what is necessary to complete this life. That all bards and philosophers knew that Cosmic Consciousness of the individual was what they talked…
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Guard The Children Well. . . .
Before us we have children who wish to be taught and loved and nurtured and given what children deserve. A sacred passage into the world of delights and treasures and it all begins with the desire to learn. It is within the heart of each to begin this process that sends us on a…
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After The Gathering. . . .
It is not always necessary or wise to hang onto rituals or traditions. Sometimes they are no longer appropriate to a new situation. But the loss of one of the finest customs of the past is a dinner invitation to someone’s home. In today’s world where time is at a premium, often dinner invitations take…
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It Makes Little Difference. . . .
Excerpt from a journal entry of July 20, 1981. . . . I am responsible for who I am. The responsibility cannot be assumed by an other. I may be an alien in this world, but this world, this beautiful world is not an alien place. It is here to sustain and nourish…
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Rolling Thunder. . .
Back in the ‘70s when I awakened with notes written during the night with the words, ‘the past is still happening, the future has already happened and here in the Now we race to catch up with it’ I barely understood what the words meant. It was only in the past year I learned…
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The Wall Of Night. . .
Nothing To See. . . You dropped a kiss on the top of my head as you headed out the door. I wanted to hold onto what the night had brought and the morning promised. . . Too late, I think, another chance missed, to gather to ourselves what time would bring in another lifetime…