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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.


Many Truths

DSC_1148Many Truths

I once heard an elder  say that people only know what it is you let them know.  I gasped,  because I thought she actually believes this.  She still believes that her thoughts are private and that secrets are truly secrets.  She does not know that privacy of thought is the last illusion.  That there are those who are bulleted with thoughts as they walk in gatherings.  Not realizing that they are picking up flagrant thoughts sent as flying debris and landing in the heads of unsuspecting walkers.

And lucky for us all that these are innocents.  Never knowing that their fatigue in crowds comes from picking up so much litter.  The reason for recluses going into the woods is this very fact of fatigue.  Throughout history we have had our neighbors vacating our neighborhoods for the silence of the forests.  Where the natural life is conducted in mind pictures shared by kin of their own kind.

My answer to this elder was to write Many Truths.   You will now understand my thinking.

Many Truths

I tell you true,
if my eye caught it,
a picture has already
been taken of it.

If I know something,
I can tell you true,
the neighbor down the street
or the unknown one around the corner,
knows of it also.

If my ear has caught your cry,
or the deception in your words,
the heavens have heard the cry
and the deception, however layered,
in time is betrayed by you.

If my song is sung,
the heavens and my god
have heard the melody
and whipped the wind
and carried the joy or sorrow
to its Source.

It has always been so
and this I tell you true.
The difference?

I, now,  know it.


Argument With Crossed Signals


Another Argument with Crossed Signals

There was a maxim often repeated when I was growing up that one never ‘tempts the gods.’ My ‘sense of’ justice and unfairness peaked early for me for which I was punished. When I was a child, I was puzzled  that the big people did not take issue with this unfairness. Later I questioned, why a positive statement could not be made without the old fear following, ‘if the gods allow?’ Or when humanity graduated to one god, the dictum became, ‘if god wills.’ It is a dastardly thing to do to people, this division of desires and penalty. The world criticizes the negative attitude and says you must be positive. And churches on the other hand teach free will and then hangs it all with providing it is ‘god’s will.’

 The Teacher Speaks. . . .Is it much of a free choice when one desires the good and then must have it tagged with if god allows? Again we must look at beginning and see where the churches fail, if they do. Our anthropomorphic god must be dusted off periodically if we are not to destroy ourselves. In the beginning there was much power thrust onto the priests and this was with people’s choice and desire. Who wanted full responsibility for his actions? Who wanted the knowledge that would free man and allow him to assume the course of his life? Look at it fairly. The church simply took upon itself to give man what he wanted. He wanted a father god to look out for him. The chain of command grew and soon there was no differentiation between the nearest priest and the almighty god. The priest was father in fact as well as fancy. He absolved the sins, he raised the Eucharist and played the part as the connection between man and his god. What behooved man to be a conscientious objector to the lusts and materialistic desires which satisfied the flesh when he knew that by donning a mantle of humility and reading off the list of his sins, which were legion, that he would be absolved of his indiscretions and made new again?  

What composed the list of sins? That which man decided separated him from his god. Were they sins? Or were they just actions, albeit infantile of a people not grown to adulthood? The line is a slim one. Man knows and knew always what he was capable of. We have a case of wanting the cake and eating it too.   Can you see why this particular planet is unique in its ability to teach the striving soul of its responsibility?

Ideas manifest in the quickest possible way. You dream of a desire and within its context it materializes. With little obstruction. And with this manifestation, man soon realizes or not so soon that this does not satisfy what was a hunger. He learns that he requires more and more or less and less. Within that there is much gained. What man realized was that the initial satisfaction was not long standing, so he prods himself to work harder and harder to afford more and more. Not consciously does he know this. He keeps the carrot on the stick and keeps moving it himself.

In many ways man gives meaning and an objective to life which would not have meaning otherwise. The otherwise would demand of him an objective look at himself and a life which would need examination. Man steers clear of the inner path because he thinks it is fraught with dangers. The church has pointed this out in many ways.   Stray thoughts do pepper the mental landscape and requires courage to examine them. Easier to say the devil did it and never have to analyze their concept of either the devil or their god.

The church continues to serve man until it finds it serves no one. When man takes upon himself the responsibility of his choices he will know he cannot blame anyone for his inabilities concerning his life. Then and only then will he gain the plaudits saying his is a job well done. Man has taken blame when things fail and in humility when things work out gives credit to a greater power than himself.  Unfair.   The good of one man in its highest sense will be the good for all men. How can something which benefits truly one man not benefit in its largest sense, all men?


Suffer The Little Child


The Teacher Speaks. . . . Any human action which must delve into its past for a pattern for progression is bound to fail.  There must of needs be new attitudes, new forms of behavior that speaks to the new man and new times.  A reaching back to the cradle for behavior, for mannerisms befitting the child to become adult is never a course of action to follow.   The state of the progression must be one to choose an upward and though tentative step, it must be forward to be progression at all.  The past must be forgiven its transgressions because those involved were not adult enough to know better.  They truly did not know what they do.   And because in our new knowledge,  we do,  we forgive but do not forget ever the behaviors that crippled us.   And we will live never to inflict hurt upon those we touch.  Let our attitudes be such that there will be gratitude in that we lived.  


Suffer The Little Child

There are magic words
in my head
and yours, too,
turning upon themselves

like prayers.  They invoke
graven images
cast upon the  mind
in forms to be worshiped.

We uncover them like idols
in the churches of our choice,
when the season or
the time of solstice

assures us this is proper.
We bow before them
with reverence.
We pay homage or penance

for untold sins
and beg forgiveness for our humanness.
We forget we once
shared space with them,

helping to make them so beautiful.
Instead, we consign ourselves
to these words of magic
and pretend that we are

what we always were.
Denying ourselves a profit,
commensurate with our work,

we suffer the little child, forever.


You Cannot Teach Thirsty. . . .


The Teacher Speaks. . . . you cannot make a horse drink when it is not thirsty. You cannot do it. Only when the thirst is there will the horse or the person or the being know to drink to satiate. But you cannot teach thirsty. You cannot teach learning. You cannot teach hunger. You can be the example that would make others want what you portray. You can be the font of learning but unless you can excite the turgid brain of the Other by showing how wondrous the fountain of facts can be, there will be no learning. You have to be the example that would make them want. And you cannot teach want unless you first show that what it is has made you into someone they would like to be. And there will be those someones who will look upon you and see what it is you have made of your life and how you think and what your hands can do and they will think that maybe if I tried??? And if they begin, heaven will step in and show them how. But the heavens need a someone on the premises who sets the example. .

The Immortal Quest

I live this life
with staggering numbers,
in singular purpose.
I’ve come bent on a quest
of my own immortality;
propelled and struggling to duplicate
a vision, a dream, a love of what I know
to be the truth of me.

I’ve chosen a frame of reference
of height and depth
that would reflect the best of me.
And in that narrow web of thought
found dimensions in construction.

I’ve gathered, harvested,
ideas of equal splendor;
discarded, disclaimed what mind
in honesty could not accept.
But found instead a reality
that claimed and captured
the illusive content of a world
destined to please.

With gentle persuasion
life interrupts the empty mind
to inject with soulful purpose,
hints determined to arouse
the sleeper to action.

For those of sterner stuff
and artful cooperation,
the syncopation is accelerated.
The heart notes the mind’s distress
and with dispatch
teaches the acolyte accordingly.

I would have you chase rainbows
for that pot of gold.
I would have you search
the bottom of the sea
for the pearl of great price.
I would have you follow
your heart’s dream.
For in the quest of
the illusive content,

your immortality will be sealed.


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