Absolution's Dervish

The sun neither sets nor rises. It is simply the earth turning. Forgiveness is turning from the belief that that all things, events and people should be exactly as I want and wanted them to be. To defy gravity and stand in the open cosmic Space of Life, to turn and know absolution’s release. Free from gravity I can see both sun and moon. Free from gravity I can twirl and dance the heart’s dervish and watch a million sunsets and moon rises. All is as it should be. 

The Gifted and Giver

"Inside yourself or outside, you never have to change what you see, only the way you see it.” – Thaddeus Golas And then to read " Everything in our lives is important. Everything matters. There are no trivial throwaway moments" ~ Norman Fisher. 

Oh to empty our backpacks, or better yet simply to keep them open so they both receive and gift. To open the backpacks of heart and eyes, body and spirit and see what we see, know what we know, feel what we feel, and receive each gift fully. And in the fullness of receiving to be the return of the gift. A grand image, a grand day. To open our eyes and know we are the gift Life wanted to open and then to return the gift. Sweet mercy yes....

Tangible 'Yes'

Hellen Keller, without hearing, without sight, without speech and untouched by the world had no bridge nor thread to tie the words spelled into her hand by Anne Sullivan. Words we take for granted were no more than a scratch in the palm of her hand. Finally, Anne thrust Helen's hand into a pump's stream of water spelling w-a-t-e-r  in the palm of her hand.  It was a baptism into context, sensation, and life became tangible, even precious.

"Prove it!" "Show me your evidence!" "What makes you think you would know!" The proverbial pat on the head that conveys the other's superiority and knowing and our child like simplicity they tolerate. Our world demands facts, cause and effect, evidence and proof.  I cannot prove these threads of hope or the whispers of life calling each to arise and take hold of their dream. I cannot even say I have or can always believe. I cannot say when "post" is clicked that doubt does not batter me. I simply cannot prove that you and I fill a desire in the universe, a unique niche and calling, a dreaming made alive for a purpose.  I am not so wise.

I know when I laid my body down into this snow melt running river, the riverbed sand clinging to my hair and the tiny pebbled river rocks dancing under my body, I thought I felt my heart stop.  And instead of "w-a-t-e-r" scratched in the palm of my hand, sand, water, rocks and cold etched in the silence of the heart's brief stillness "y-e-s".  My own baptism into context, sensation and life becoming tangible.  And so, my simple thread, for however many or few the seasons remain, will be to spell "y-e-s" with threads, whispers and even tears. Maybe one day an echo. Maybe another's hand reaching for mine beneath the pump's or river's streaming water. 

I do believe.

Racing to the Starting Line

I remember my first marathon.  Because I was a competitor, only against myself, I stood at the rear of hundreds of runners who were competing against time.  I had to strain to see the Starting Line, waiting for the gun to go off.  The first couple of minutes of the run were spent trying to get to the Starting Line so time and the marathon would begin. You could feel the heart beats and energy of hundreds of others racing faster than their legs could ever hope to carry them. Heart beats that would soon settle into the rhythm of solitude, their pounding feet and the ticking of the stop watch.


I was racing against myself, my own weaknesses and fear, my own will that said "I can" and the same will that said "I cannot."  I didn't need a starting gun booming through the air. The sound of the gun exploded when I made the decision one day, to run just a mile, trusting the Starting Line would be there.


Why the picture of an old barn standing out in the mesa's plateau and a worn dirt path? Even though I cannot see the Starting Line, and feel somehow I am now racing against myself and time, a reminder, a thread, a whisper that someone, another presence was here, no matter the solitude of the run or time.... it whispers, "I'm still here."  The Starting Line.

Texture of release

"Pursue, keep up with, circle round and round your life as a dog does his master's chase. Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still. Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality.  Be not simply good - be good for something.  All fables indeed have their morals, but the innocent enjoy  the story.

Let nothing come between you and the light.  Respect men as brothers only.  When you travel to the celestial city, carry no letter of introduction.  When you knock ask to see God - none of the servants. "
Henry David Thoreau


Annie 7/9/12 released in peace and love.

Life unfolding

I did not know what it was

It started to reveal

Not yet she said, but almost

And then she blossomed and unfolded

Life.