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August
August It is August and there is a sliver of breath inside the sill. The deep breath of autumn is, I think, a matter of time; perhaps only in the memory of the child anxious for the world of new books to open. Anxious for the toys of summer to be put aside to make…
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Industry And Creativity
Industry and Creativity Our world needs our arms and legs and talents. Heaven needs our industry to keep our planet afloat. We are industrious and we are also creative. And to be both is what life is all about. We construct our lives by what is imaged and we create in physical space what…
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If We Sing To The Children
If We Sing To The Children I wear these memories as a cloak to ward off the chill. Emotions forgotten, but like new now ripping along my arms, settling bumps in straight rows to my heart. Kindred hearts, matching my own heartbeat, with eyes like mine and reflecting our souls. Music in voices saying,…
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Bless The Experience
This particular post has been a favorite one of many people. It is to me because of various reasons and I need to remind my self that blessing an experience, especially ones that are painful to remember, is as necessary for my well being as giving silent thank yous for the many good experiences. …
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To Research Oneself
The Teacher Speaks. . . . .For the one who searches the Heavens for his answers and then hopes to find the answers in his actions, his activities and in the midst of his affiliations, he might find them there if he chooses so. But chances are the answers he seeks will be in his…
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The Day Is Good Bread
Resentments hang heavy on the heart. Heaven teaches by the only weapon they have. That is Conscience. Beware the one who sings loudest in church. They may be pleading a cause of which they are not proud. Swift action by the wrong person often takes the decision out of the hands of the one who…
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Echoing Softly
Echoing Softly Echoing softly, in the night the willing heart is nudged quietly into sleep. Wondering why in this place, the interest pales and fails to keep soul aloft. There is no time as now for events to falter, for the spirit wills its place to be yet.. So, come now, foolish it is to…
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And We Live Again
the music tangles in the wind of muted sound and we live again When our son became seriously ill and I could not find holiday cards that spoke to what my heart carried, I started to make Christmas cards. The first card was made with construction paper and carried a poem of mine that I…
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How To Comment On My Blog
Dear loyal followers, I have had some emails from you and you are having difficulty making your comments on my blog. Many of you receive my posts in your smart phones. To make comments you must go to my blog which is fromanupperfloor.com. If you put me into your toolbar it will be easy for…
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A Silent Thank You
Hey there, mister. . . .are you ready? Almost, he says and in a few minutes he appeared. Where are we going, he asked and I said to do some errands . We can walk and because it is early, it is still cool. We did not hurry along, just sauntered. As we came…