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Crowded With Saints. . . invisible
When I try to explain what track my thinking has taken in my life, even as a child or a teenager when a peer said that I talk as if I am reading out of a book, I am at a loss. In the following excerpt from The Last Bird Sings, Marshall, the student…
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A Sacred Leaning. . .
A Sacred Leaning. . . When I understood the meaning of the words begat and borne and unearth and wrote this, I wept. It was then I realized that for me the poignancy of creating life was not so for everyone. The school of thought then was that it was all biology. Until we…
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When A Thing Is Good. . . habits
When St. Paul had his experience on the road to Damascus, it unnerved him so that he took a year off from his preaching to recover. He of course had his groupies waiting on him. When my world crashed and I was hospitalized, the doctors asked me to speak to a large room…
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We Don’t Junk Humans. . .
We Don’t Junk Humans. . . People will always question the validity of one’s commitments and one’s purpose. When I am questioned I can only say I see what is mine to see. Regardless though of the mental and emotional garbage one carries, there is always what someone does that has a redeeming value. We…
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What I See. . .
On Different Perspectives. . . . What is so apparent to you is not apparent to the Other. To view with compassion is difficult when the vision of the Other is limited. He/she would wish another just like them. Just as you would wish to share your vision. It is a common human condition and…
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Old Friends Breaking Bread. . .
Oftentimes the greater picture is chosen to be forgotten because it is necessary to have the script as authentic as possible. If knowledge were part of the picture, chances for the lessons to be taught would be hampered. So love is as powerful as the anguish and the angst in their teaching the veracity of…
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This Valentine Heart. . .
It is a truth. . . . Sometimes we cannot improve upon a something that supports a truth and this is one of those times for me. On this Valentine’s Day, to all who are bereft and do not or have not known love, what is missed is something you have known somewhere at some…
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A World I Cannot Place. . .
As we approach Valentine’s Day, I will be choosing some poetry from a work called Psalms of Love. One chosen to begin is A World I Cannot Place, recently written but not yet included in the work. Memory is a powerful tool we are graced with and it comes with questions that have many…
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Will It Be Me?
Jane Roberts in the 60’s and 70’s when I discovered her and her Seth books, was talking about quantum physics. She didn’t call it that but Seth was saying that all time is simultaneous. And she had physicists calling her because even then they were silently interested in what Seth had to say. And she…
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When The Fir Tree Stood. . .
There will be those who question whether it is my memory of having lived a life or many during the formation of this Earth or whether it is genetic memory passed through the ages and lodged within my mind. Or possibly a parallel life living in the capacious present since all time is simultaneous as…