I start this week with all these tangled threads….

intertwined wishes by artist Glenda Miles

Google images

these seemingly new pieces…are not new


The colors blend
I think about
the importance of doing both well
how does it happen?
how do we live and die with grace?
the longer I live I am more and more convinced
It centers around our
which lead us to
our choices are all important
to both our living
and our dying
if I want to die with grace
I must live with grace
to live with grace
I must choose my thoughts wisely
I must listen to the wisdom which tells me,
Guard your heart, child, for everything you do flows from your heart.

Amy Lloyd


Amy Lloyd Art

Most of my anger carries me back into places of my deepest loss…

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is
Stitched with its color

W S Merwin


it seems to be deeply rooted in my loss of innocence…



Anger seems to be, in many ways, akin to grief….


Jeff Brown @facebook / other images @ google

Yet there’s some additional brutal, toxic element involved…


I wears me out and leaves me in a state of chaos…

Never set a tiger free if you live in its mountain

       – advice from a cookie


google images

 It is not an emotion I enjoy…


There’s an element of hate-ugliness involved that makes me want to run…

Only stars are free and they are so lonely. Curse what you will but give thanks that everything alive wants something from you.
                  – Mark Nepo from The Way Under the Way

sounds threads

eventually it all connects

Can you pet the yeti

living behind your front door?

Will you water the dead tulips

still standing upright beside your bed?

eventually you meet yourself

beyond the mirror of your knowledge

Can you say no to the wo/man of your dreams?

Will you eat every scrap of chocolate you can find the day after Lent disappears into resurrection?

eventually we all sit on a sandy beach contemplating the ocean

Can you stay in this moment where the lint collects you might have for lunch?

Will you walk the narrow road while Nero fiddles? While Rome burns?

eventually we will catch up to those on the other side of the world

Can you be patient and wait for your own moment?

Will you stay with me even for a little while?

eventually it continues to the next phase

Can you grow into your own fine self?

Will you let the child play just a little along the way?

eventually we all end up wearing a groutfit when we arrive home from work

Can you say thank you for the threads of beauty connecting us?

Will you answer the phone when a new friend calls?

eventually it all becomes music

Can you plant a broken record to make songs grow?

Will you allow yourself to write love songs as the band plays on?

Amy Lloyd


We are God’s thread
weaving through the tapestry,
the masterpiece is slowly
Potential for beauty, we can’t know,
revealing glory
so bright
it makes the sun squint
and reach for sunglasses.
Brilliance so far beyond ourselves
we go shining into the gray
as we open to the new jewels appearing,
sparkling in the moonlight.
As we step into the needle’s eye
the angels catch their breath,
cheering our blazing garments,
dazzled by the vision
God is revealing through the creation.
As we surrender to the greatest mystery,
the beauty we inhabit
becomes us,
walking in humble clay
eyes out shining the stars
set in the heavens.
Until we totally disappear and all that’s left
is holiness
so pure
all we can do
bow in wonder
at ourselves
and give thanks
as the silk thread
becomes liquid gold and silver
pure and simple
as we realize our place.
We are the temple of our creator.
The home of God. 

Amy Lloyd




Break in me whatever needs to be broken.

Fix my hope of ever being fixed.

Use me. Draw every ounce of creativity out of me. Help me live a radically unique life, forever forging a never-before-trodden path in the forest.

Show me how to love more deeply than I ever thought possible.

Whatever I am still turning away from, keep shoving in my face.

Whatever I am still at war with, help me soften towards, relax into, fully embrace.

Where my heart is still closed, show me a way to open it without violence.

Where I am still holding on, help me let go.

Give me challenges and struggles and seemingly insurmountable obstacles, if that will bring an even deeper humility and trust in the intelligence of life.

Help me laugh at my own seriousness.

Allow me to find the humour in the dark places.

Show me a profound sense of rest in the midst of the storm.

Don’t spare me from the truth. Ever.

Let gratitude be my guide.

Let forgiveness be my mantra.

Let this moment be a constant companion.

Let me see your face in every face.

Let me feel your warm presence in my own presence.

Hold me when I stumble.

Breathe me when I cannot breathe.

Let me die living, not live dying.


– Jeff Foster


and I keep breaking my own rules…

challenging my own determined truth…

doing the work…

needle pulling threads into place….


so I can sing and live and connect
with a free and joy-full heart…


war cry*

*warning…this post has some strong language and images I don’t normally post. It is not meant to be offensive –

what happens when you start your week with this blasting???

stirring things up….

like a punch in the face…

I guess we’ll find out…

it’s on replay for the week….

“Hey, I wanna get better!”

I didn’t know I was lonely ’til I saw your face
I wanna get better, better, better, better,
I wanna get better
I didn’t know I was broken ’til I wanted to change
I wanna get better, better, better, better,
I wanna get better

I’m thinking a lot about anger at the moment…



I rarely get angry…

I’ve worked hard and long to avoid being an angry person…



I’ve been afraid of anger in many ways…


and so over these past years….

I kept anger outside of my inside….



passive aggressive chickens

 lately it’s been occurring to me that maybe…


I have become a bit TOO passive…



{ ok, I’ve made a lot of progress… }


and I’m not saying I want to be an angry person…


but I do want to develop a healthy relationship with anger…




and maybe beat on a few things…
hear some things crack open….



On the journey of the warrior-bodhisattva, the path goes down, not up, as if the mountain pointed toward the earth instead of the sky. Instead of transcending the suffering of all creatures, we move toward turbulence and doubt however we can. We explore the reality and unpredictability of insecurity and pain, and we try not to push it away. If it takes years, if it takes lifetimes, we let it be as it is. At our own pace, without speed or aggression, we move down and down and down. With us move millions of others, companions in awakening from fear.
– Pema Chodron



“Don’t be spiritual with me, my love. 

Be honest instead! 

Get angry with me. Tell me how you really feel.

Tell me how pissed off you are. 

Shout. Or cry. Show me your vulnerability. 

Express what’s on your heart.

Say the wrong thing. Make a mess. 

I don’t care. We can clean up later.

I just want to meet you. Now. 

Don’t wait until you have the perfect words.

Don’t wait until your precious fire has gone out.

Or your tears have dried up. 

There’s no shame in being a mess.

Anger is not ‘unspiritual’. 

It is beauty. It is power. 

I want to meet you beyond the mask.

Beyond the nice little boy, the good little girl.

The well-trained spiritual student.

The expert. The calm one.  

The one who was never allowed to raise their voice. 

I want to feel your fucking flames!

I want to feel your truth! 

Your passion! What you need! What you desire! 

Your unrequited longings! Your frustrated hopes! 

Don’t worry about hurting me.

Just let life speak through you. Now.

I will take responsibility for my own pain. 

Please. I’d rather receive your pure anger NOW

than years of stories, blame, resentment,

and passive aggressiveness. 

Drop the spiritual bullshit.

Just tell me how I fucked up. 

Get everything out in the open. 

I will not shame you.

And we can go from there.”

– Jeff Foster

“In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give evil a foothold.”
‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4:26-27‬ ‭NIV‬‬




I want to live, what author Jeff Brown, calls Enrealment

Intrinsic to enrealment is a deep honoring of the vulnerable, receptive heart. Many of the traditional enlightenment models have been reflections of a paternalistic landscape, one where emotional armor was necessary to maintain its warrior function. Through the eyes of the lone-wolf warrior, expanded consciousness was a disembodied head trip, a lone wolf warrior clamoring for a taste of God in meditative repose while the women were tending to the allegedly mundane world of feeling. What was missing from this lens was the bountiful wisdom of the divine feminine- relationship as path, heart as portal to the God-self, the emotional body as the breeding ground for the soul’s emergence. As our world moves away from survivalism as its orienting principle, the awakening man will one day feel safe enough to lay down his arms, and recognize that an enheartened path is fundamental to a clarified consciousness. That which is real is real because it is felt, and not simply witnessed, watched, analyzed.               – Jeff Brown



Now I just have to figure out how to…



allow it (sigh)


let it go…

Remembering to keep this practice in place….




in the world between worlds

where the shimmering abstract

holds all the secrets within us

words are absent

no scripture exists

there are no definitions

as there is no need for such things

in our eternal knowing

we are ever-being known

the mystic colors of God fill us

unseeable in this earthly realms obscured vision

they hold us there

where we don’t need to be  understood

or understand anything

we are simply

all we could ever hope to be

we are the lover and the beloved

eternal love

eternally loved


You in I

I in you



until the scab scraping

demand of this waking earth

this illusion glazed moment we choose to serve

pulls us completely blinded

into a day in a life

pushes us ass-backward

into the harsh reality

of jaded time

of hard-earned, hard-learned experience

of continually disappointed expectation

of broken hearts, once tender

of broken dreams, once beautiful

broken everything, once whole and healthy

and instead of fighting for our very lives,

we put away our dreaming space,

as if it were somehow the wrong

we decide we’ve learned the truth –

that love hurts –

though what we’ve learned is trickery –

because true love sets us free

and so we surrender to

the soul-sucking zombie apocalypse of our addictions,

our chosen favored forms of slavery

not knowing our vast worth

our royal bloodline

our supreme destiny

we clothe ourselves in useless, flimsy armor

our only known defense.

we use fools gold

cheap drug store variety,

Madison avenue, false-advertisement protection,

these rabbits feet of proclaimed luck,

these traps of anger, arrogance and pride,

against the barbarian onslaught

of what we have been brainwashed to accept

as important

the carnivorous eating of our flesh

by the demands of our own complex making

focused only on our foolish collecting of silly objects,

overrated treasures and pleasures

as we ignore our need for love

choosing instead to battle

the cannibals salivating at every corner

waiting for us to stumble and weaken

so they can take our place at the top of the illusive list

of whatever sort

we have entered into

as our arena of competition

eventually they will toast to their victories over us

with our own fresh, falling blood

pouring from the golden goblets we ourselves had taken from another


we accept it as normal

as we attend to the business of forgetting

who we are

pretending to be full

as we starve to death

in order to get just a little bit more than those waiting

for what will never satisfy any of us

lusting for salt

even as we faint from dehydration


we live, lonely, in empty mansions

forgetting all that makes a house glow

is the home light burning inside of our other to warm our bones

in order to impress those who will never truly know us, love us, or want our best to be honored

in order to arrive at the end of our hourglass

dragging what we will not be able take with us…


we trade our chance to be truly remarkable

to create singular intimacy

we see our chance to find gardens of happiness,

to build something as mind boggling as the seven wonders,

and we choose to ignore it

as we continue on.

too busy, too consumed,

to stop for a moment,

just one moment,

to take off our shoes,

fall down and worship…

to allow the lover into our heart –

as though love isn’t important enough for the likes of us


why do we go about wasting our opportunity here?

how can we awaken to the highest and best within ourselves?

how can we choose to lay our hearts bare in vulnerability?

how can we empty the deepest motes of fear and isolation?

why do we trade love for rust?

why would we ever do such a thing?



Let us return again to where we began…

the joyous place of our belonging

to the passion and wild danger inside our freedom loving hearts

children on Christmas morning

full of sheer wonder and excitement

at the beauty of who we are

passionately in love with our created uniqueness

the fullest colors of our self unleashed

living worship eternally under vast blue skies

shining from our highest place,

with the extreme audacity,

the sheer wonder and glory

of our calling as love

pure love

I in you

You in I

as we

the many,

once again,


the one

Amy Lloyd


\iznə̇s\ /wuznə̇s/ \whiiinə̇s\

sometimes we forget…



sometimes we get stuck in this…



sometimes the morning alarm is a hard start…


life can be full…


or flat-out-empty…


starts & stops…


we keep trying…


life recharges…




fragments seem to be missing…



when you just don’t know how…


or where…


or what…


or when…



yes….that little why seems to come back

{ ….again…and again…. }


mostly there are no easy answers…


I have found over these past years…

the way through is to stop and remember….

it is

always & ever


there are lines we cross on the path…

we go from struggling with our…

 \whiiinə̇s\ /whyness/


suddenly we find ourselves in a place of…

\wasness\ /wuznə̇s/

until we come smack dab, full circle, back into our is…

\iznə̇s\ /isness/



it truly feels like a lifetime from there to here…



I have recently been reminded…
to think about these things…
healing our life-trauma is essential to growing new life within….
there is unlimited potential…
keep letting go…




That day I saw beneath dark clouds,
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before,
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.

It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing,
speaking out loud in the clear air.

It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.

David Whyte
The Opening of Eyes
New and Selected Poems
©David Whyte and Many Rivers Press



so much sweet goodness….

and then…


as if to prove all the points I just made above…

just as I thought I had come to a natural end this post…

here comes this new idea (below)….
[it’s from MLK…THAT in itself can’t be ignored]
must be brought into the thinking zone!!!!

/ahhhhTnə̇s/ \oughtness\

--Dr. Martin Luther King.



it’s why life must be lived in the present…

there is nothing but NOW!!!

truth & love stories do not end…

every day we hold eternity in the palm of our hand…




always and ever……to be continued…


a lot of these images found through Google images and facebook…the rest are my own



It’s July!


there are things exploding already…

(you know it takes two)
let’s use the word tango
as we plan on multiple uses of that fun Sue-word*,
we can do that, right?
you and I
it’s hard to hold hands with yourself
it’s much more fun with someone’s appendage
on the other end of the space between us  

it’s tricky trying to lead the dance alone,
follow cannot even be spoken
without at least a couple thrown in
one is still the loneliest number
(tho one is always preferable to a dominating,
dangling, or divided second)
Equals of one plus one always add to an even balance
of the perfect two
which is just what it takes
to make the finest whoopie
or when naming a pair of wild bohemians
we’re all looking for a split-second flash
of the light hidden within
to show love reflected back in the infinity of eyes
caught in the light of the moon
shining through the open french doors
in the soft-air-still-of-the-night
let’s only fight about me stealing the covers
then make up immediately 
before the sun comes up
and one by one
we once again
make our solitary way into the day

*Sue-word – fun words to use in this blog / suggested and inspired by
Sue Timony-Hall

I found my energy flowing again…


there are some plain ol’ good days…

{Raven by Robert Bateman via Ted Simendinger

                                                                   Rainbow at Big Y by Fisherman Dan at Branford, CT
Rainbow at Guilford, CT by Jesse Ruotolo via facebook Simply Guilford, CT}

days heavily sprinkled with holy mundane magic…

Sprinkles GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY


there are even these to think about….

IMG_6763[1]             IMG_4903

and this comes front and center…

I find the most important reminders…

Don’t be nice!

Nice is boring. 

Nice is fake.

Nice was an adaptation

designed to win you love.

It doesn’t work.

Be real instead.

Nice is a mask

which covers up your anger, irritation, 

frustration, disappointment

(beautiful energies you learned to smother

when you were young).

Nice will suffocate you 

and everyone else around you.

Nice keeps others 

from ever really knowing you.

Take the risk of not being nice!

Take the risk of showing yourself.

Be prepared for others to dislike you.

To think you’re selfish, cold, mean,

or even worse: “Unspiritual”.

Say what you mean!

Say yes when you mean yes.

Say no when you mean no.

Take the risk 

of looking after yourself!

Be prepared to feel alive again.

To feel your heart pounding.

To sweat. To shake. 

To wonder if you have the right…

To finally feel your guilt and shame 

instead of running away from them.

Be prepared for your ‘nice’ world 

to crumble.

Be prepared to lose your 

carefully crafted image.

Be prepared to feel 

the rush of newness! 

Jeff Foster

❤                                               ❤                                   ❤                                               ❤

I’m feeling more than a bit…


with large dollops of…

OK, one more time before I go…


oh Yeah!!! THAT!

here’s to allowing all this goodness to burst around us…

all the time…


that’s a lot of good, loud lights bursting and shining around us…

the holy mundane miracle

No Miracle Happens

IN DOSTOEVSKI’S NOVEL The Brothers Karamazov there is an extraordinary scene where the old monk Father Zossima dies. They lay him out in his coffin in the chapel, and all of the monks wait around to see a miracle—for the body to give off the fragrance of a rose, maybe, or his dead face to flicker with a holy light. But no miracle happens, and not only does no miracle happen, but as time goes by something else happens instead. After a while the body shows signs of decomposition, and gradually—though at first the monks try not to notice it—the chapel is filled with the stink of death. No miracle happens, but decay and death happen, the stench of dust returning to dust; and the one who loved the old man most—Alyosha, the youngest of the brothers—stands ready to give the whole thing up as a bad joke, to give up all hope of miracle, to give up his life, to give up if not God himself then the dusty world that hides God from our sight. Then he has this dream.

He is keeping vigil at the old man’s coffin while one of the monks reads the story of the Wedding at Cana over it, and when he falls asleep, the dream comes. It is a dream about Cana. There are the guests, there are the young couple sitting, the wise governor of the feast, and suddenly there is old Zossima too—a little thin old man with tiny wrinkles on his face, and of all the things he could be doing, what he is doing in that dream is laughing, laughing at that great feast like a child. And when Alyosha wakes up, he does something that he himself does not fully understand. He tears out of the chapel and rushes down into the monastery yard. He hears inside himself the words, “Water the earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears” and suddenly he gets down on all fours and kisses the earth with his lips; and when he gets up, he’s no longer a teary wreck of a boy but a “champion,” Dostoevski writes—some kind of crazy champion and hero.

– Originally published in A Room Called Remember by Frederick Buechner



here’s the deal that I’m currently experiencing as bottom-line…


Wispy thoughts
Soft white shadows
Smoky Silhouettes
of Trees on hills
Shades of white on white
Soft fog filling the world
I drive through this soft, thin place
the only edges
are cut mountain rocks
teaching me about life
teaching me about spirit
Changing me
Softening my eyes
Filling my heart with a new holy
Softening my darkness
as hope slips in
under the closed door of my heart

I’m back at a new beginning and feel myself falling once again…


in love with this concept of simply be-ing human…


the ‘easy’ miracles we often don’t appreciate…

the miracle of the simple fact that our heart beats…


the beauty of life as it is right now…

the magical lettuce we grow right outside in our own patch of dirt…

veggies from my sister, Nancy’s [aka Non] garden

remember to remember…


I feel like I’ve been making things WAAAAY too complicated….

Tell me a story
End it with you getting that blood
out of your favorite yellow pants
Make me belly laugh with your mystery
captured from the mundane
the wounds of your humanity
Inspire me to rewrite my own boredom
my insane tragedies
into divine comedies to entertain myself
sing with me
La dee da dee da

save me from my inherent heaviness
allow me to enjoy my special fool within
until my effervescence bubbles for all to see
Lights flashing within me
all the colors of my own personal rainbow
Then I will raise my hands
and sigh with all this released cascading joy
as we all dance and yell to the moon, and beyond,
Very good
Very good

the greatest miracle may just simply be…

the final straws of our discontent….


the tears, smiles and laughter we experience each day we are granted beats…

we are full of beating love…

adventures await us as we gently step into our own unique rhythm…

I walk in clouds of messy grace

carry them with me wherever I go

I traverse the worlds of the dark and the light

allowing them both to be places I belong

I jump in puddles of deep infinity splashing stardust with my feet of clay

I sail my ship into the driest desert  full sails catching the fine winds of new understanding

I climb the highest mountains

to see all the beauty found above and below me

I lay in the green grass of home to respect the very stuff that I am made of

I drop for 45 minutes into the center of the earth

to allow my stubbornness to burn away

I search the seas at midnight to find one open heart like nine

I am the night ocean

mysterious life. sparkling light-forms

I am the stable earth

wings of birds. creepy creeping things

I am the rain forest

rarest orchid. poison-est frog.

I am the hottest desert

stickiest cacti. smallest grain of sand.

I am the heavens

guarded by angels. home of God.

I am the word

spoken. written. thought.

we are possibles

be-ings. unlimited. infinite.

I am you

child. sibling. parent. friend.

as you are me

loving. lover. loved. beloved. love.





Green was the silence, wet was the light,
the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
– Pablo Nerunda

June (in Connecticut) started rainy and cold…

the greening vines just kept growing and changing color…

the word LUSH comes to mind…

we went straight from cold to hot…

hot cold 1

I put the air conditioner in the window almost half way in (6/11)…


sometimes the spelling gets a little wacky…



yet we still know what it’s saying….



inside we always know…


I’ve spent the greater part of the last two months…

going slow…

{ in Norway there is this

maybe they’re on to something!}


practicing this…



You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come, to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.

John O’Donohue

Excerpt from the blessing, ‘For One Who is Exhausted’

some days I get impatient for things to go faster…


[I’m now an official member of the International Institute of Not Doing Much…

I encourage you to join me in this worthy, slow-grow movement!]



One of the interesting things I am learning…

is how much I have been attracting ‘fiery’ energy into my life…

because I have felt it ‘pushed’ me to be more…

because I felt I needed to be more…

I am learning to trust my own needs…

finally learning to accept my own pace as ok…

maybe, not just ok…

but truly – SPECTACULAR!


finally embracing my own flow…



It’s interesting that I feel a growing sense of grounding…

a sense of removing something toxic…

something that has caused inconsistency in my life and relationships…

something that has caused much inability to be in my own purpose…

That’s the way things come clear. All of a sudden.
And then you realize how obvious they’ve been all along.
~Madeleine L’Engle

not sure where it’s leading…

as of yet…

maybe nowhere but here…

and somewhere…somehow…

I think I’m completely ok with that…

all good

memes and photos found on Google images

of budgets & brouhaha’s





What if you woke up with today…
and found yourself with only those things you were grateful for yesterday?





before I talk about budgets…
I always talk…
and think….
about gratitude…





Over 20 years ago…
I left….
on my way out the door…
what would turn out to be…
the very last time…
I would ever enter the beautiful home I had created….
THIS framed Bible verse is what I picked up…
I’ve wondered a thousand times how that happened….
I remember doing it…
almost as if, somehow, I instinctively knew..
it was what would save me…
something to KEEP me…
something more important than any other possession I had…
was the counting of gifts…
was the giving of thanks…
No matter what circumstance or brouhaha
It is indeed…
what saved my life!IMG_5675[1].JPG

the act of gratitude…

is our invincible summer!

20 years forward on this crazy path…

it sits on my bookshelf…

in its place of daily reminder…

I go no where…

I do nothing…

without giving thanks…

I have come to


the thanks we weave through our days


the stirring of soup

the matching of socks

the washing of china

the feeling of clean sheets

the smell of grilling meat

our feet on the glory path of nature

the building of our budgets – big or small

our eyes lifted to sky & sea

the telling of our stories

the reading of each others poems

the morning hug

the kiss goodnight

Is where we find our


our very



This past week I have been working on my personal budget…


Becoming more mindful of how to sculpt my future…





The signs are everywhere…





Looking at what I really want to accomplish…


What my goals are…






What I want as foundational…







and so I set my eyes to the future…



Pure audacity right here…

in this current brouhaha of our world…


I say this a lot…

it’s another thing I have come to believe…






 We climb mountains
We get back up when we fall
We keep fighting for our dreams
We refuse to die, while there is breath within us
We stare our suffering in the eye
we walk straight through the dark forest with courage,
trusting our steps will not fall
We will not fail
We are warriors
We are the chosen
We are strong yet soft
We know ourselves
Acknowledge our weaknesses
while seeking for truth
Bow in humility when we make a mistake
Easily say the words –
forgive me and I forgive you

Light glows within us
We are the children
We are the beloved
We are the followers
of this majesty
properly named
grace & beauty
which comes to us right where we are
but never leaves us there
from glory to glory
we are learning to be holy
as we walk the mountains and valleys
listening for the call
thirsty for more
abandoned to love
eyes to the sky
lifting up each other
life gives us all good things
peace unshakable
Joy unending
Patience to wait for a drop more of this un-understandable mystery
Love unconditional and unlimited
we are free to be who we were created to be
we do nothing from guilt or manipulation
our love songs come from gratitude
expressions of love pour out unfettered
We speak with authority
not to judge
but from experience
nothing can rip our faith from our hearts
we Know that we Know
because we have seen with our eyes
heard with our ears
been moved in direct opposition to our own selfishness.
and so we climb
Ever upward and outward
toward the stars
toward the heavens.
They say God saves his best work
for the inside of things.
May it be so, Lord
May it, always, be so


images found on google




7am Saturday comes…

Half-way through this Year of our Lord…

2017 AD….

Third day of June…



There is no blog post for

The Oracles’ Compass…


The last week of May started with Memorial Day…

I actually had a 4 day weekend…..

I had long, multiple hour phone calls of inspiration, connection and conversation…

I deep cleaned and moved rugs and furniture…

had moments of sheer wonder of how dust can gather itself….

I read lots of very inspiring poetry….

A book of  serious poems all in one evening….

I didn’t write much…

just a little…

I worked on my budget…

{based on sheer miracles…}




Work was a bit crazy…

the newsletters…

the copies…

the bulletins…

the phone…

the allergies….

a long week…

in 4 short days…


The OC post-time was in my subliminal…

It just never broke into my space-time reality…

I’ll let you work that all out…

All I know is…

Saturday morning came…


and I have no post…


not intentionally in one way…

I wanted to do a blog…

I meant to do a blog…

I thought about blogs…

I just couldn’t get a blog completed this week…

and…it’s all ok…


My “deadlines”…

at least ‘here’ on my blog…


Are ALL self-imposed…

and so…

I do something out of the normal…

something exciting…

something unusual…

I WRITE this post on Saturday Evening!

After a long day…

which began early….


I think about the most important thing…

I can tell you I have learned from this week….

Is this….

I think about the most important thing…

I can tell you I have learned from the first half of this year…

Might just be this…

there is magic everywhere…

In two days I will cross an anniversary…

[ of sorts ]

the wasn't in the plan

It makes me wonder as I think how much a brief encounter

can completely change your life

for better in ways…

and for not better in others…


after the four Miles had come and gone

and the three tenors had paused abruptly 

my two legs stopped to design some landscapes 

plant a few hedged borders

build a moat 

or maybe several 

the forsythia’s flame had burned to the ground in minutes

I had no cake

so I sat eating a protein bar by the ocean


tho the sensual strength of it all makes me smile)

sand, definitely, all up in my business

I lay, watching blue and white swirls

birds up high – teaching me to trust 

the sun making a last stand atop the tree-line

water…well, what more do I need to say..

breathing deep

achieving serenity

smelling favorites 

the erotic mixture of charcoal and meat

mixed with freshly mowed grass 

I float in tune with the laughter of children 

fading in and out as they just run until breathless

there was nothing sexy 

about the couple loudly talking staff meetings 

beside the waters edge

but the feather left on the path in front of me 

on my way home

spoke of wisdom meant just for me

I carried it home in my pocket

I used to miss you on a Friday night

but, now I make an important discovery 

as I slowly make my way home

between sitting on freshly cut stumps

and old stone bridges

writing poems on the path

Now I’m much too busy to miss you

 being at peace 

with my own lyrics

being in love

with my own life

Photos from Google Images

smoke. mirror.

How often does it happen to you???

                                      {to me?}







things go up…





changes happening…

within us…

within everyone….

in the world….

in our world…

smoke gets in….

our eyes….

our throats….

all up in our business…

our concrete plans….  {poof}   [cough]


we live with this idea…

that we control things…

{ we don’t }


we hold on to the illusion….

we can control things…

[ we can’t ]

tree 1

(very) little…

do we actually control…

[ though we like to pretend ]


some say…

we can only control…

our attitudes…

and our efforts…

I would even question

{ ? }

if that is always true…


though, I agree

[ Y ]

it is probably all we can ever practice

– & –

try to continue learning….

and so we look in the mirror…


we smile at ourselves…

just a little…

{ or a lot }



and after the smoke…

the fire

the burned bridge…

the earthquake…

the life-storms of Biblical proportions…

the mirrored revelations…

the lessons in…

self mastery

( & )

shape shifting *

we travel on

{ there should be singing here }

leaving our worries in better hands

knowing, for sure, the best of life is always ahead…

proposing a toast

with that other strong, determined, Southern Belle –

Tomorrow is another day

singing out loud

with those who mean it with all their hearts and lives –




Just like everyone alive

Your days will be full of threads

Weaving your life into a tapestry 

There will be days of great joy 

and ones of overwhelming sorrow

Good days 

Bad days

Medium days

Average days

Snow days

Hazy days

All your days you will have circumstances to accept and embrace

Some to let go – some to overcome

Life is not about being fair

Life is about winning with the cards you hold

Winning doesn’t mean being rich and famous

Winning means living as your very best and highest self

Winning means experiencing love, peace and joy

You’ll be as happy as you decide to be

You will be as healthy as is possible – based on your genetics and your lifestyle

You’ll choose to accept, or reject, what is offered you

You’ll do what you want to do

Go where you want to go

Keep holding on to what is most important to you 

   (even if you destroys it)

Love who you love

Be who you are 

You will be worth as much as you decide you are

You will have as much love as you allow inside you

You will have as much of God, and mystery, as you want

You will inhabit your life,
or not

All this will have nothing to do with your life’s circumstances 

or about anyone else, or what they do

It will all be about your choices

Simply and always your choices


(Photo sources found on pinterest / al513)


has it struck you yet that answers come before questions? That healing begins with illness? And that you can’t have a dream come true without a time when it hasn’t?

shoot, isn’t it all so perfect? everyone, no matter where they are on their journey, can be happy.

The Universe


back at the resurrection
night has turned to day
here I stand amazed
at my own rebirth
dazed and a bit confused
eyes blinking in the morning sun
attempting to adjust
I am completely changed
from my life to death
back to life experience
more than a bit claustrophobic
due to the burial, no doubt
I am no longer sure
if my bank account is active
or my passport still relevant
how will I go on here in the world now?
what will my friends and family do with this who-is-now me?
they who have done with grief
and moved along with life in-between
I am, for sure, no longer the way I used to be
I have, for sure, experienced things they will never understand
I have flown with angels
and seen what lies beyond the Milky Way
I have, for sure, left my fear behind me in that fresh, unmarked grave
I know, for sure, there will be no turning back,
no compromise of this wild and exquisite thing beating within me
this life of mine is mine
this heartbeats miracle will be never forgotten gift
I can only take this first step
away from this boneyard
named and dated final markers
a place I no longer belong
I can only start close in
in silent revelry walking
along this uncharted path
which will only be revealed by my footsteps
I discard my grave clothes
and turn to see the colors of my new self shining
I take a small shaky step
and find the ground holds my weight
I breathe deep
inhale – exhale
soon I will attempt to speak
with my new voice
there is a song being written
which must be sung
a beauty seeking to burst
which will no longer be denied
a love now known
which will never be unknown
I raise my hands and kiss the sky
I bow my knees and kiss the ground
I rise and begin the journey
through the narrow gate
that leads home to LIFE

There are many times I am struck…

with this very strange truth…


the best of times…


the worst of times….

life is this mixed bag…

of bitter / sweet…

in the middle of someone dying…

there is a response of someone being born…

in the middle of the wedding…

someone is filing for divorce…

in the middle of someone convinced they hold all truth…

there is someone doubting all they have been taught…

in the middle of fear…

is where we finally find courage….

I have taken back my own listening
The weeping cherries have cried their last for me this spring
We have eaten cake and shared a toast or two
The dogwoods and lilacs having waited, now bloom just for me
My heart is still full and empty at the same time
Flaming bushes hatch their eggs and throw holy joy into the blue sky
My tears find their way to the ocean, to mingle with their brothers and sisters
Freedom is never free, the cost is always found on the edge of a cruel mans’ sword
I lay on feathers of lost innocence, those naked birds plucked for my dinner
My body, still adjusting to this new age, burns away the old days, realizing this present moment is all I have
What does it mean that I spoke, for a minute, about you, about good hair, you in a suit and tie, aesthetically pleasing to the eye and ear
I wonder what will become of me in these nexts, in these upcomings, in these wild, deep blue yonders
My new friend, Khalid Bin Al Kamaal reminds me,
‘Don’t wander off alone in thought lest you dear feel lost’ – I have not listened to his well-intended advice
I am forever lost to my own thinking, forever making towards the light of my own future, forever stepping into the now of my own footsteps,
forever inhabiting my own self, forever revealing my own hearted purpose for be-ing here, forever knowing myself as I am known
Over and over I find new truth, for better or worse, I am that I am