We are one

31 01 2017

red-tulips-highlight        yellow-tulip-highlight








We are one.

From childhood, my faith has taught me so.

Is this not true?


Everyone belonging to an all-embracing Truth –

A Truth human expression cannot contain?

Isn’t this Truth true in spite of my faith?


We are one.

Why do these three words raise defensive walls?

Why do they scare us so?


Fear mixed with pride – our ego’s addictive elixir;

an opportunist ego’s playground –

serving it to preserve power;

injecting it to manipulate;

a way to sustain control…


but not The Way.


Still, we chase the god of “better than”

devising decrees of divisiveness ;

forging “us versus them” perimeters –

it’s easier not knowing another’s story;

defining others with broad strokes –

it’s more convenient painting with a bigger brush I suppose;

manipulating foundational concepts to create fabricated walls.

Why are we afraid of what is different? of what is other?


Then do we not believe what we claim within our faith?

What we say is Truth?


We are one.

This is celebration worthy!


We are one.

Created by the Creator;

created within Mystery;

created from Love to love;

created uniquely… out of Hope;

created from the One;

created as one.




25 01 2017


There they are – laid before me at the beginning of another day.

A decision to make,

or maybe I’ll carry them all:

My “I’m fine” mask so I may cover my pain.

My “excessive pride” mask so I may cover my insecurities.

My “I’m in control” mask so I may cover my fear that I am not.

My “I’m the victim” mask so I may cover my self-doubt.

My “self-deprecating humor” mask so I may cover my self-loathing.


There are others on my crowded shelf.

The morning sun hitting each just so,

with a comfortable, warm enticement;

inviting me to a day’s worth of simulated security.


I suspect you may have some on your shelf too.


I would hate to see you cover the beautiful face that is you.

The you that was given to this world.

The you, if covered, would make this world less.

The you we need so desperately.


I wonder what would be different if

I trusted these thoughts stirring in my soul and now exposed?

I wonder how a summer breeze feels on skin rather than against plastic?

I wonder?


my delimitative end?

15 04 2016


Expectations conspire to confine me;

Anxieties hungry to bind me;

Fears scheme to define me.


Is this, then, my delimitative end?


Living in a system that would affirm this desuetude – spinning words dripping, sweet and savory?


Powerless against omnipotent exterior forces, an illusion I count as truth?


I am called beyond this prescriptive and self-subscribed living –

freedom within my DNA.


I’d rather have the Limitless be my guide…

Unchained from Expectation’s hopeless yoke;

Unbound from Anxiety’s insatiable appetite;

Undefined from Fear’s rigid borders.

But Love –

always Love…


Uncaged . . .

13 02 2016


caged 2

Caged –

censored by years of conformity;

chained by links of prescription:

shoulds and ought-tos,




            self-definition deprivation . . .

Gripped by dark matter’s invisible force;

chasing fallacious love — perceived to be the liberator of who I am.


But the soul’s expression . . . insuppressible;



uncontainable . . .


Imagination’s Big Bang – expanding;

creativity’s resurrection – incessant . . .

a poem waiting for completion;

a verse lived day-by-day;

a prose of becoming, composed of daily refrains. . .


Mystery – the poetry;

Creator – the emancipator of imagination and inspiration;

Presence – the deliverer of the soul’s captured language;

Love – the savior of who I am . . .



limited consciousness . . .

2 01 2016

Gettysburg Fence

What bliss it is to live in the realm of limited consciousness;

defending defined borders along the unknown lands:

staving off responsibility for the depth of who we are;

Here, we live in complacent simplicity –

separating and dividing;

categorizing and generalizing;

delineating between “us and them”;

coveting absolutes not ambiguity;

Allowing the container of who we are to become the content –

no more, no less.


Fear, in this storyline, is the primary plot device.

The ego is driven to manufacture a god for our comfort;

holding tight the wardrobe keys so Narnia will remain undiscovered;

seeking self-preservation.


We work so hard.

We deceive ourselves.


But there is always an invitation to explore the Limitless:

in the truth that all of who we are, light and shadow, is already loved –

no strings attached;

in faith that we can risk hiking into the unknown;

in trust that we can embrace blurred boundaries;

in hope of discovering the depth of who we are created to be;

in the joy of living into

True Love;Little River Rain

True Self;

True Freedom;

True Life;

True God;


What Bliss . . .

In Her Eyes…

28 06 2014


web in sunedited











I see in her eyes now, the same indwellers as in her early years –-

anxiety and fear;


She is not who she was . . .

yet this host/tenant relationship remains the same

claiming, slowly, the life of one so young.


Charisma within crowds –- quick to jest;

underneath, though — alone with herself —

the addiction to fear and anxiety is insatiable . . .

Haunting her . . . always haunting . . .


trying desperately to survive,

she shares her dependence with those whom she loves:



I have boxes full . . .



We all have such boxes under our beds . . .

And we –- to our dismay — have given our share of boxes to the ones we love;


Freedom comes, however, in the opening not the storing;

the burden of addictions and attachments (self-created and those received) received as gifted opportunities.










Living a divided life…

10 03 2014





What pay-off is there to living this divided life?

What is it that whispers in my ear?

Telling me to guard my heart so?

What experiences are etched on my soul

so that living is something to be grasped, held tightly, and controlled?

Fear is present in my white-knuckled grip . . .

I choke the life I want to live . . .

Energy’s potential starves . . .


Still Wholeness does not leave me orphaned . . .

She calls me Home –-

gives courage to leave home to find Home . . .

Peace saturates me on Forney Ridge in the quiet mountain air –-

gives presence to welcome Presence . . .

Whispers to me in the language of wind-blown fraziers . . .

Give me ears to hear who I am from I Am . . .

Embraces me in the gift of an unexpected hug . . .

Give me openness to be loved by Love . . .


I know what I long for most . . .

To move toward Wholeness . . .

Come endurance;

Visit me fearlessness;

Inhabit me faith and hope —

so that I may risk opening clenched hands,

letting go of my life so that I may welcome True Life –-


whole . . .

undivided . . .