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The Dark Side Man Calls His Humanity. . .




(When I sat in my first Philosophy class and the Instructor was explaining the different ways of looking at life,  he went into detail about how some teachers thought every day life was illusion,  not real.  There was snickering of course because how could such details as study and tests be not real?  When coming to grips with quantum theory the hardest thing to grasp is that all time is simultaneous.  I ask my readers to give this idea space in thought.  A ‘maybe’ for now.  It will make it easier to understand from where this mystic that I am comes from.)



(we will lay our swords beneath
the evergreen and paint roses
in the cheeks of the children)

The Dark Side Man Calls His Humanity. . .

The Lesson. . . the Teacher Speaks….Man has forever been maligned because of the evil in him.  That the dark side is evident is no biggie you know.  Even when it came to love.  He could never love enough because of reasons he never could relate to.  But take it from all of us who know this dark side of who we are which we call humanity.

It is dark because in times of strife, in times of war, in times of decadence, we relate to the minute factor which prevails and gives us reason to be bad.  To be our worse.  We relate to that because it causes an excitement, an extreme from which we can waver because being good all the time is a trial.  There is no excitement quite as bloodletting, as bringing a sword across the body to plunge.  The idea that I am king is strange to those like you (I find the only worthwhile competition is against oneself to strive to do better) but to the one who finds the excitement in the competition with an Other, it is heroin to the mind.  It is an aphrodisiac to the body and a stimulation like nothing else.

We are not proud of this you understand and when the fit, and it is a seizure is over, there is a denial, there is a remorse, a regret, a sin that covers our hearts.  When your son transited he wondered how you could love him when he had known such dark places.  But the one you brought into this world and loved into being was the one you sent out.  He became accountable and paid his dues.

When your mentor, your friend, thought man should be accountable, he did not wish for man to keep coming back and lamenting his ancestor’s anguish and never lift himself out of his mire.  He wished for every lifetime to meet obligations and become accountable.  This is what making a difference is all about.  Not to become responsible for our ancestor’s inability to fulfill dreams.  Nothing can be done except by the one who tied the knots.  The ones who did not meet obligations are the ones needing forgiveness by their progeny.  There are enough worlds for this to happen in.  Let their gods work it out and take them as responsibility.  It is not for the child to undo the parent’s tribulations.  Let the children be free to make a difference and the whole planet will survive as well as the people in it.  It will be a classroom of supreme order and not the hellish place it is today. 

(excerpt from Reflections Of The Midnight Mind)

For when the bloom is off the rose,
the sunrise no longer flames
the morning sky,
the midnight cannot arouse
the passions to warm
the bleak and fitful cold,

and I see that man
will be forever blind
to his god self certainly,
for he cannot see his divinity
used to hammer and abuse

the divine nature of his reflective self.


An Ever Fixed Mark . . .



love is. . . an ever fixed mark that looks   on tempests  and is never shaken. . it is a star to every   wandering   bark. . . Shakespeare  

I awakened with these   lines committed  .  I who never commits her own work   to memory and realized  that this  was how I wanted   to appear   to my children   and to those I loved, as  an ever fixed   mark that   is  never   shaken  .

Of course  I had to   learn   how.  It meant  forming   a philosophy  and building  it step  by step, readjusting  as  I lived  it and grew. Simple words  but easy it was not.  Struggle  it was through many obstacles  .   But the most desired result I wished  was  to be  depended upon.  The  reasons  were many and personal  but the  disappointments I did not  wish to  foist on the children.

Big assumption?  I was never aware that  it was not what everyone did and simply   not talk of it.  Naive?  Important?  As I look about me in the middle of my eighth decade  I can see my progeny adopting the same  measures.  Their ideas of what  they can  accomplish  and wish to perfect humbles me.  And  that  I am a beneficiary   of their hard work  humbles me further  and fills me with awe.

I wish to kneel before  the  Greatness  of All  That Is with gratitude.  To have  lived  long enough  to say thank you a trillion times and how  proud  I am only to have them say this   is what we are and what  we do.  True values  with perseverance   will work in this physical   world as well as in the unseen ones.  Everything   teaches.

When you listen to what heart and conscience  guide you toward and stay the route,  the gold shows. . . .





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To Make a Difference. . . .

image-1 (2)


We come to help make better.  We come because we hope to make a difference, however small.  The small things, when carried out with concern, can involve a lifetime or many lifetimes.  You cannot change the course of genetic evolution.  It takes its time.  Engineering may be able to code the dna but the emotional evolution  must take its time and in its own time, will either be for the common good or common ill.  We can hope that what transpires will be for the common good.  We  hope that with persistence the individual can decode and overcome what the ancients in their frustration could not bring to pass.  What we hope is that we do not add to the pot of frustrations so that the oncoming generation will have an added burden.


Toward Greater Life

The heart searches parameters
for openings onto worlds
not torn by those intent
on limiting knowledge. .  .

always searching
for those to willingly embrace
the differences challenging
the hesitant heart. . .

We look toward the union
of heart and mind
with the litigious veins
of knowledge, pushing like sludge
thickly through rock. . .

eager to consign edges
toward greater life. . .
knowing always the
least demanding would be
the most sought for.
Even the tardy would give
evolution a jump start.

Never insulting the slower envoy,
always grateful for the god participants,
the larger reality scoops forever
the narrow focus. . .

giving eternity’s starters new life and hope.

photo by John Holmes


The Broader Focus. . . .



The Larger Picture. . .

One of the first joys of kindergarten I remember was being told to connect the dots and behold!  A picture was formed within the larger picture and it was visible and I could identify it!  What joy.  It was a beginning for me then to look at everything to see what was hidden within.  This was a something I could do with ease and soon was applying it to everything and everybody.  Not always the kindest nor the pleasantest thing to do.  But the lesson within was always worthy.  For by looking at the larger picture,  the smallest something within would then be visible.

In talking to a grandson I pointed out that if I could not see the forest,  I would not see the beauty of the tree.  By looking at humanity,  I could see the beauty of the individual, the person.  It is an important lesson to apply to conditions that do not bring pleasure nor meaning to one.  Only by looking at the larger picture,  the broader focus,  does the significance of the work become important or vital.  And sometimes the meaning has nothing to do that the work at hand requires.  It might be a vital link though in the future of someone one cannot even imagine, nor the significance of the event in any given time.  The dots though will be connected and the picture will form and Mind will note the Giver of the gift that was given.  And the soul accountable will note with pride and an ‘I did that! will be heard throughout the worlds.

To Give Credence

At first the leaves of trees
take on the blush of color
that heralds their death;
preparing themselves for a long sleep
that will last through a white winter,

a white on white sparkling
jeweled fire of gems
spread acres across
the eye’s vision.

What more than this
to give credence to
the  profound question
of who made this?

And I in the stillness
hear with clarity
the voice of Creation whispering,

‘I did!’

Photo by
John Holmes


Croesus, My Country


Croesus, My Country

Croesus stumbled
and laid back a war torn skin
for public autopsy.

With bruises bested
by emotional welts
too deep to be visible, he wept.

In the eye of the cyclone,
the earth’s erratic heartbeat
was his heart;
the blood drenching the soil
was his blood
and the screams of the mothers
came from his throat.

From Midas he inherited
his golden touch,
spewing riches tinged with decadence;
stroking the mind of man
and lulling into complacency
the aging neophyte.

Promising to pave
the illusory streets with golden bricks,
the purchase price was extracted
ounce by sweaty ounce
from the despairing brows
of the ages’ overburdened.


We will again bathe our Croesus
in the River Pactolus.
We will anoint his open wounded heart
with the balm of Gilead.
He will stand again
with his ancient head in the clouds
and his heart in the eye of the cyclone.
And no longer will he permit
the mothers’ screams

to tear the earth apart.

art by Claudia Hallissey


A Touch Of Grace . . .




June 14, 2016
Tuesday 5 a.m.

What is Grace?

Grace is a benevolent gesture bestowed to relieve a yearning,  a burden shadowing a heart that is struggling for relief.   It is a knowledge,  an insight given to be applied to oneself to help understand and give this relief to someone yearning for answers,  begging to be moved from under a gravity of weight threatening to take life.  When given and applied to the situation,  to oneself,  first, the relief felt is often one of lightheadedness.  It is no small matter.  It is the intensity of desire, of yearning,  of motive that whatever is the belief system of the individual, of the supplicant,  that is of the highest caliber will be answered by the graciousness of Life,  whose undergirding, overwhelming support of the Universes is of ultimate good.

(the following from a journal entry dated January 5, 2014, 7:44 a.m.)

Somehow, this Earth, when we sent it rolling in this marvelous sea of great tranquility, called the Universes, had as its basis,  safety of its inhabitants and also logical consequences.  That the underlying basis, somehow has Intelligence and that Intelligence evolves as our intelligence does but in greater leaps.  Much greater leaps, unimaginable.  And if we call this Intelligence God or Father or Life, or whatever, this Intelligence is the primary factor of all Universes.  I don’t know if the big bang theory was its beginning or if some other factor sent rolling in this vast sea had even a beginning.  I cannot with this brain, fathom that.  What I am certain of is that the underlying factor of this Universe is Intelligence, which somehow makes my heart beat steadily, and that we, because we are its children, or its product of lust or love or whatever, also are buds of intelligence set on a path of growth, however long it takes.  That the very primary, the very smallest of life’s instinct, has life and intelligence as its point of existence.  There is nothing, not a thing, no thing in this world that should be taken as a granted, as a nothing or non life because we have as its center, life, the smallest particle which one day is growing into its full capacity of intelligence.  And from that point, to whatever ends that particle succeeds will then be another meeting of parts which in its composition will again grow toward other forms of intelligence, of other forms of life.

This probably doesn’t sound like much.  But this to my mind, reminds me more of what was the beginning of life than the unpalatable which had me wondering why when I was trying so hard to make sense out of my life, there was only nonsense.  My body was throwing up all the years of my existence, of  my life and I was dying.  Physically I could not handle it and I was dying.      My head  even hurts this morning to think along these lines because there is no one to speak to and no one to throw the ideas back onto me.

(the Teachers Rebuttal January 5, 2014 following my entry)

It is a good piece of work.  Primary but in its substance of value some good thinking.  You see where it is you come from.  You see where it is that your thought springs and you cannot ever from this point on say that you don’t know where it is you come from.  Nor what is your purpose.  You have at your fingertips the knowledge of what years of schools and instruction has  stymied many a scientific mind.  And you, uncredentialed, have scaled the summit.   It is a major piece of work and though there would be some who would scoff at the simplicity of this page, you know how many years went into its creation.  You have built a world waiting for your presence now.  You have an audience of believers who no longer scoff at what it is the circumstances of life prevent or present.  You always had an inside road so to speak and though there would be those who say dream on,  you know what it is that has led you.  It has not been easy and physically it has taken its toll.

You have on these pages a major work.  You say that beneath the life or the words there is a substance or an Intelligence.  There is nothing that would stop the ever growing list of wonders to say that how did this Intelligence come into being.  You would without doubt be able to handle them with a volume of material. 

You say that here we have Intelligence and whether it is the big bang theory sending molecules into form we know that Intelligence and common sense are its virtues.  We know that we are not incidental to life’s picture.  There are other forms and other life cycles and we participate in all of them.  How we know of this Intelligence is by observing the work of those whose business it is to improve life.  To lift the burden of existence to a tolerable level and to wave the spirit of triumph to what has been endowed to the minds that would not stop learning.  This is what it is to be alive.  This is what life is about.  We are placed in this environment to learn.  We are given the heads with its propensities to accomplish what the heart desires.  It is up to the parents of these minds to grasp their importance and for themselves to learn the consequences of their actions.  You were right when you issued the warning for people to pick up their mistakes.  Their names are attached.  You have given enough material for all the sages to start running.  There will no longer be excuses for them to lie back on and say I did what I could and did I not have fun?  You would take to the classroom and set the students on a roll to learn.  This is what we do.  This is our work.  This is a good work for a beginning scientific adventure.  It must be a perverse God they said who would put sacred teachings into the head of a farm girl!  You got them off their butts and we only begin.  Amen and amen. 


To Embrace The Essence. . . .




To Embrace The Essence

He was a young man when he went up to the top of the mountain and a very old man when he came down.  What he saw we will always wonder but how close was he when he embraced the essence of God.

It was no mean feat we thought he did when he no longer deigned to fight the Romans as he had  promised.  But now all he said was give to Caesar what was his and to God what belonged to Him.

The essence  is not real one thinks, except as one embraces and is embraced.  It smacks too much of voodoo unless one tastes of the elixirs of worlds not even born and feasts on food nowhere yet on this world.

To Be embraces as awe in primary form.  It is walking naked into the womb of the birth mother only to be embraced by love nowhere else a fact like this.  Awesome, awesome, I know I speak, awesome.  The heart stops and breathing is not necessary.

The mundane seems a wasted time and my friend Judas will think all is lost since his friend deserted a cause to liberate minds held captive.  But note the harness now on the life of our friend and we who know the Essence of the Greatness that swells the bosom.

How else love, how else to keep on living when desire to pray becomes the prime reason of breathing?  And all worlds become the altar for kneeling?  How you made the flight up the mountain to stand at the precipice of the world is of no import.

But where you stand now is because you embrace with awe the expansion of a heart yielding to the embrace of inspiring and inspired love that you find you embrace in turn.  To walk into the womb of your birth mother evoked from memory for countless lifetimes and know ultimate love, the creation of the soul of you.

It is no small thing to stand so and be revealed.  It is sufficient reason to lay one’s life down.  Instead one moves to work more lifetimes; the great love that spurred the mushroom to live in dampness forever and bring delight to the palate, the rabbit to multiply,  the daffodil to bring light after the dregs of winter now gives breath to lift man’s tortured soul and give reason for being.

No matter the insignificant account given the primary being, the ultimate in service will not be curtailed.  The need to discover reasons to maintain will be reason for breathing.  Enough to be embraced by a perfect love.  In itself it silences all need for the search in all life, no matter the dimension.


Answers That Know The Questions To Ask


The Lady Of The Blue Cloths

Can we go today, he asked?  Perplexed, I looked at him and wondered now where since most of the errands were done that we considered a must.  Soon the holidays would be upon us.

To the lady with the blue cloths, he said.  To the lady who knows things.  And of course, I said.  You haven’t asked for a long time.  Because he said,  I knowed when I ask-ed the question!  And how, I wondered, but first we needed to get ready.

Soon we were on the way.  He was quiet and wondering his wonders.  I asked him again how he knew the answer when he just had asked the question!  He stuttered for a bit and  looked straight ahead.  You know, he said, when I ask-ed myself a question.  I wait and knowed I knowed the answer when I aske-ed the question.  Somehow,  pieces come into  places, he stammered,  like puzzles and I knowed that I knowed but I  had to  ask out loud.

I listened to this and still wondered.  But why then do we need to see the lady of the blue cloths?  Because he said, because.   Because it is almost time for the  Glooorrrriaaaaaaaaa time he said and I needs to find out from her some things she knows.   Her answers he said, not mine answers.

We were met by his friend at the door of the shop and she led us to her table.  She held his hand a minute and their hearts melded.  Why, she asked, are you wondering how to say it?  I am thinking he said, how you knowed what you knowed without asking questions out loud?   She touched his cheek.  Like you she said.  When I feel a light breath on my cheek or a warm hand on my shoulder even if no one is there,  I know my angel is.  And knows my question.  So by the time I put the question into words, the answer is in my heart.

I thinked that way so with me, he said.  I knowed you would know he said because I know too.  I think real hard and in my head  pieces like puzzle come together.  Angels are good friends,  real friends.  He got up to go.  Never afraid he said,  never afraid.  Angels carry blue cloths.  They say blue cloths good to wipe tears.  You have lots of angels here.  I come back just to see them?

Any time, she said.  With the holy days we have lots of them.  They follow me sometime he said, follow.  Never alone, I never alone.  She smiled at me in leaving and gave me her hand.  The warmth of it raced to my heart and I drew breath.  You are good for this one, she said.  You are good.  Charged,  himself and I floated home.

Painting by
Claudia Hallissey






How Much Of A Difference

It was morning
though the night still hung heavy,
the clouds hovered,
the sun unable to rise.

The children gathered for breakfast,
morose, unhappy and angry,
heavy still with sleep.
Mother looked with unhappy eyes
and father, already delayed
flew out the door.

What could she plan
for this crew this night
as she scrutinized each face
when they exited.

That night the same faces
appeared to sup together,
hostile, unable to summon
the good things of the day.
Seated, they glowered
and the mother, with hope
passed the platter.

Have some love, she murmured,
as she handed the platter to the eldest.
Puzzled, he helped himself
and in unbelief said to his sibling,
have some love.

And around the table the faces changed
as the platter of love was passed
and with a whisper
bestowed its blessing by each one.
The father then picked up a plate to share
and to his surprise murmured, I bring peace.

And around the table, peace was passed
to accompany the main course of love
and talks resumed and the world
was given another chance.

On a level we cannot enter,
we cannot know how much of a difference
it takes to make a difference.


(Do you think that the problems in the rest of the world are of a greater nature than the wars fought within the four walls of any home?  Think again for this is where the Cosmic Concern is.  What is handed out as ultimatums for the growing family is what we in turn will be concerned with a few years down the line.  Let us pass Peace at  our tables when we gather together for this day of Gratitude.)



The Uncovering





Genesis 1.26  Then God said “Let us
make man in our image, after
our likeness; and let them have
dominion over the fish of the
sea, and over the birds of the
air and over the cattle , and over
all the earth and over every
creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”


We wandered the universe in the beginning
and were known by one name.
We walked and talked and set to dreaming. . .

How would it be, we said,
if we blew our collective breath
across this cosmos and set a planet whirling. . . .?

If we lifted the shades of darkness
and let our pain for expression
burn hot enough to warm even the bleakest spot?

And we did and the earth
rolled into space we designed for it.
And we blew breath into Adam and
we became Adam and called ourselves Man.

We hunched for too long before we finally stood.
In due time we crowned
our Greatest Achievement sinful
and then created a god to absolve us.

So it is with men who  are god,
who have wandered a million light years away
from their divinity.

Am I permitted to construct a mystery?
We blew our breath across the land
and it became wind that warmed and
chilled to make life tenable.

We blew our breath into flesh
that was fashioned from our potter’s clay
and Man became Spirit.

We determined to stand upright
and with our own hands tilled the barren soil.
Our sweat ascended in costly mist
and descended to irrigate life.

Our tears filled the rivers with fatigue
which filled the oceans with frustration
as the fruits of our fields were dispersed.
All the while we continued to labor
for redemption.

Ahhhhhh. . . .the mystery?

Who first told us we were no good?


The Teachers Speak. . . many years were required of intense study to reach conclusions which only this year were verified for the poet and writer.  She is now finding ancient scripts which are quoting what she is finding in her poetry of over a half century that she considers a Given.  And finding physicists who are expounding a holographic universe.  She feels affirmed in what has been a difficult time marching to a drummer whose beat was heard by her heart.  And has surprised us all that she has lived with her knowledge for almost 85  years.  Courage is dispensed to those who begin the inward journey.  It was the purpose for your desire to be born to this world.


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