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In The Quiet Of This Night. . . . . .
In The Quiet Of This Night. . . In the quiet of this night, come to me and we will hold hands and talk, and I will show you from how high up you jumped. The night will love you and envelop you and you will find that in the cold moon there is a…
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Worn Like A Second Skin. . . . .
The Teacher says do not worry about what others think. They just think differently. And this difference lends a diversity to life that will peal our heart and make us wish to be among humans living time and again. We will wish to work within the limitations, knowing that the things we have learned are…
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Across The Mind’s Eye. . . .
Across The Mind’s Eye. . . . Laying like whipped icing on the wedding cake, the drifts of snow across the mind’s eye left a clear path to the heart’s memory of the other winters when love closed the doors of the world and cherished me. What were the winters like when the snow stood…
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Emmanuel, Emmanuel. . . God Within. . . . Us. . .
It was 1941 and I was ten and warned every time I went out that God was watching me. And seeing me pick up a nickel from the wooden church floor and go across the street to buy a coveted pack of Walnettos. Word followed me home of course and I was punished. Why…
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When We Trash Our Souls. . . .
Our Connectedness. . . . There is a connectedness I see and it weaves through everything. I am not certain where it leads nor if it ever had a beginning. But this I know. It is real and it is firm and it is gutsy. Not a word that is elegant, but true to…
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The Journey Begins. . .
(When asked often lately, how to survive as a mystic in today’s secular world, sometimes the questions just need a repetition of previous work. I edit for space.) Previous entry the Teacher speaks. . . When your mentor, the Nazarene, thought man should be accountable, he did not wish for man to keep coming…
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Where Can We Go?. . . .
When I was in public grammar school and we were let out for weekly religious class to go to our places of worship, I sat on my hands in the basement of the old church and sweated. I was not answering the priest’s question and knew I would be punished but what he was…
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Awards That Hang On Our Hearts. . . .
It would never have occurred to my mother or my mother in law that there could be fun in the raising of children. It simply was not in the frame of thought in their lives. Children were work for my mother with eight and too much work for my mother in law with one. That…
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We Are What We Know. . . life everlasting. . .
When we reach the point in time that we feel there is no energy to meet another challenge, we relent and let go, we hope lightly, and prepare to depart. We have lived our lives in preparation of our next address. Those who love us know we won’t be disappointed. We, ourselves, probably not so…
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The Crucible For Memories. . .
We, the each, are nothing but memories. We are the Lord of Memories for ourselves and for those of our commitments. And what we as the crucible for those memories have made of our world. The painful we hope we have overcome and forgiven and the good will have repeated itself forever more. For the…