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The Uncertain Dance Made Easier. . . .
Sometimes I think the youngers would be happy for me to lay down my things, and pay attention to do what other elders do, so it would be easier, than to pretend to listen to what they do not understand, to make fit into what they cannot relate. Senseless no doubt…
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The Invited Guest. . . . .
with hammer and saw and wood and file. . . . Many of us, when we find that our life is not working for us, no matter what we try and even invent, take ourselves to the doctor. And when all the protocols still do not work, if we give it thought, we take ourselves…
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Known By One Name. . . .
Perhaps Doris Lessing and I would not be close friends because of commitment. But I do admire her brilliance with the written word and some of her ideas. Two things of value for me stand out. The first is of long standing and I spent hours locating this source only to find it at midnight…
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The Vault Of God. . . you know, my friend, you know. . .
‘How did you know to do it?’ he asked. I loved and raised babies and painted roses on their cheeks and planted evergreens in their hearts. Now you should put the sabers at the foot of the evergreens. The dove sings high, gargles her song at times, but you know my friend, you know.…
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IN Harmony We Embrace . . . . . .
Child of my heart, do not boundary me. . . do not cut my power to enhance lives of our beloveds for abundant life because heart requires. My thoughts in the cradle of my mind, are a gift of my abundance for a rich life. Faithful to my adherence to belief that life continues…
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We Are Being Watched . . . once said the blue boy. . .
There is a universally ineffable, inherent bedded value in all life that holds us all accountable. It is this which we must answer to. Not because of Others’ intent. But of our own basic divinity, our own intent. We may try to dismiss this urgency within us, but we cannot destroy it. It will continue…
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A Variation Of A Dream . . . . .
A Variation Of A Dream. . . There is nothing new to say. . . All of life is a variation of a dream. How often they resemble one another and easy it is to lose my self in them. They are a dinner of words, a potpourri of feelings, a smattering of knowledge…
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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…