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Maria’s mug of milk and warm moon. . . .
One of my cyber friends had a marvelous post on March 14, 2025 called a mug of milk and warm moon. Maria Wulf is a poet as well as an artist and she is a joy to watch when she posts. Her connection to our natural world puts us all in a classroom to wonder…
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Thoughts en Route . . . .
Thoughts En route The cliché ‘I am only human’ is a self qualifier and an excuse in case of failure. Reverse psychology would have humans admitting their divine self and then the Heavens would have reason to shout, ‘Prove it!’ We then might not fall so squarely on our ethics. The only tool necessary in…
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The Mist That Sustains Me . . . .
(there are those like me in our terminus who have carried what the sophisticated did not because they were born for better lives they said, more important things than menial work. Because for reasons mostly involving children, the work of caring for those unable fell on unsuspecting shoulders. We find a hundred years later…
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When Passion Is Exhausted . . . .
The Best Of All Worlds When a teenage grandson arrived into our family, my talks with him were cerebral and pithy. We were in my basement study and on the wall was a quote which I had paraphrased from something I was reading and his mother, an artist, had illustrated. (We have since used the…
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A bigger boat, I guess. . .
IN NEED OF A STRONGER VESSEL. . . . In my early growing years, there was always much to overwhelm me. Things just never seemed to be what others said. When they remarked on the lovely family living upstairs in the two family house on the edge of the playing field, I believed…
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the best gift of all. . . . and best friend. . .
our minds as companion . . .to treat with respect. And the next statement must be, how much better can life be? When to thy Self be true, could we be not true to everyone? If I could wave my magic wand and grant a loving wish to all children born into whatever worlds are…
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WE WILL TALK AGAIN . . . . .
We Will Talk Again . . . We will talk of philosophy and we will talk of poetry again like . . . .once upon a yesterday. . . . . We will talk of people and beings whose lives are woven tapestries of great wonder. . . . And we will again grace the…
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For Sitting On The Porch . . . .
For Sitting On The Porch. . . It is a night for sitting on the porch. The night is soft and there is a breeze about. Soft. A love night. . . How could it be better? Only to share with an Other whose eyes see as mine do; the shapes of the trees…
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Be It True Just For Today. . .
What if it is true. . . . .just for today. . . . The thought occurred to me what if whatever we think is true. . . just for today? How would it affect me and life around me? How would it affect you being related in thought with me? What if it were…
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New World Carved Out Of Our Hearts. . .
When you asked the question. . . I don’t know that it occurred to me at some particular point, or that I always knew the moment you asked the question you already knew the answer because the process by which intelligence grows is by the conclusions reached by the hard work of consecutive thoughts…