Time immemorial

I’ve seen the face of gratitude. The mirror does not lie. I’ve turned it toward you. My reflection. You remind me of what I’ve forgotten. You listen to the remembrance of my core when I return again to truth. You are the stone upon which I have carved our meeting: April 5, 1975. I awoke in the wee hours of that morning. A cry let … Continue reading Time immemorial

Night light

Because I can only stand here, I can’t stand there. Some things aren’t meant to dwell together: Light. Dark. We come to see the seeing of our sight when we open ourselves to the light. Dark, too, has a purpose: Reminds us of what is and what is not. Reminds us of where we are and where we are not. Reminds us of the people … Continue reading Night light

All is well

It comes cool to calm, like warmth over the chill of the cold. Peace. I welcome it the way I welcome gratitude bursting from the seams of my inner. This is the walk of my journey through this lifetime. I rise and I fall in seemingly the same moment. I give thanks and I cry for the way of my mind’s movement at times through … Continue reading All is well

A snapshot of my life in reflection

Each day I become clearer and clearer. Mexico is a gift in that way. I don’t think I’ve ever been this clear before, even as I’ve enjoyed a depth of clarity. Here, in this time and this place, I see differently. Snapshots of truth flash across my mind like fireworks. They come with sound and magic—the eye can’t help but see; the ear can’t help … Continue reading A snapshot of my life in reflection

I am listening

In each moment do I come to know more fully what this is about, why I am here: To look and to see. To listen and to hear. It has been me all along. It is true. It has, and no one can show you the way of that. Some things we must come to know in that one moment when all aligns and receptivity … Continue reading I am listening

It depends on what you desire

We cannot miss that which we let go. To miss is to misunderstand the letting go. To miss is to linger long-lasting in a past that no longer has a face, has lost color, has removed itself from the richness of the present. Some things we are unable to see—stuck there on the turntable where the record has scratched itself into new lyrics. What of the … Continue reading It depends on what you desire