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Love transforms. . . .
Perhaps you also feel as I in looking about, and wondering is this not the hardest lifetime to have lived? This lifetime is filled with notes and memos reminding me of the impossible events I have labored through. And wondering from where came the energy and the chutzpah to work through them. I am glad for the…
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Take Me Home Jason, Take Me Home. . .it is time.
I have been trying to catch up with myself for a very long time now. Putting up with the old timer’s disease of trying to make a body work like I remember it doing. But of course, it does not. At better than 90 it will not conjure the energy it did at…
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How Much Is For Real. . . . or Illusion?
As I Watched. . . Part of a whole, yet wholly here. Slowly as I watched the silence was encompassing. Piece by blessed piece, each tree, each entity slowly folded upon itself and laid itself down. The screen protecting vanished as it bent itself into nothing, a wisp of an idea no longer useful.…
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the immigrant. . . .
Immigrant. . . I watched as you worked a mind through endless turmoil, sifting and sorting truth and fantasy and arriving. . . You opened eyes and unblinkingly stated, ‘you have always known, haven’t you? How did you do it?’ I knew I could not take even a moment of self revelation away, answered,…
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No Place To Go . . . .
There are others who have experience in matters not common. I have kept notes on dreams and researched my experiences. I could not speak openly and was cautioned much because of public circumstances. Times are different and I speak for the children who are different. There are babies now being born who have been mentored and…
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If We Sing To The Children. . but you know. . . .
There comes to mind that time warp where events leave their linear places and congregate in the place where we know that thunderous motions occur with the simplest actions. Or even with no action. Like the times my brother Stanley and I discussed what he saw along the road but knew immediately I knew…
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Pray the garden into a sanctuary. . . . . .
On May 14, 2021, I posted Time’s Gleanings. It is a collection of paradigms as a brief respite in diets of heavy lessons. My last maxim of that post reads like this. . . ‘Like a dancer learning the discipline of a new score, we have rehearsed minute by minute to come to this place, …
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My reason. . . Because Of Love. . . . .
Explanation Caught in Part. . . In the beginning, in the place where I came from, there was a veil covering the foetus, the skin of man. I remember the place and the one who sent me here. He said it was because he loved me, and all those who would be part…
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Each One. . .Teach One. . .
. . . It always is a struggle between the correct thing and the right thing, no matter the subject or the action. The correct thing is not always comforting nor comfortable. And it generally is confrontational. Too much on our plate and we already want to hit delete. But whooooaaa!!! We…
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All Who I Am . . . Our Coats Of Many Colors. . .
I write again of my coats of many colors. Because I love and care for those in my life and love life itself, I will repeat those of my posts I feel urgent about. Since I have memories and dreams of lives lived and have written of them, apologetically lacking times, I rightfully attest to…