Us

a smile

a tussle of their hair

their energy

light shines through

reflects the love

for themselves

their lives

their loves

all that they encounter

experience

learn

let love and life

thrive from their souls

and shine within and on all of us

Osmosis

float through

but do not touch

come close

but that's close enough

be here, be there

be everywhere

but keep to yourself

there is no more room on that part of the shelf

make room for me 

I am part of thee

can't you see

what you can be

be part of me

we are one

not two or three

just realize me

then we can just be

                                               

Open and let it in

                                                 I wonder how easy it is to open your mind?

                                            at a rate that your hand can keep up with your mind

how frustrating it is 

to work my way 

through a word

the letters slow to form

yet...

the feeling of excitement

the spark of ideas

amaze me continually

tuning out is hard

all i really want is to tune in

Blooms among the gray

flowers fill my senses
the scent of life in full bloom
the sound of the day passing you by
the sound of life buzzing in the air
the feel of a soft tickle on your toes
the taste of freshness
             all around you
like nectar slipping
                 d
                     o
                         w
                              n
                                 your throat
the sight....
oh, the sight- the wonderous color
ALIVE and BRIGHT

Love as Life

I saw this written on an old bridge in a nearby state park.  So many people have hiked these trails and left pieces of themselves on this bridge for all who follow to enjoy.  Many of the thoughts left to linger on this wood touched upon a part of my soul, none more so than this.  Love requires nothing- only people to feel and grow from it.  I hope for a day when love will be the cornerstone upon which our civilization prospers.  It seems to me that love is forgotten lately, something of stories- once dreamt of but not made for our general reality.  Poets and musicians and writers abound with ideas of only needing love- I wish that was all we needed... we need to love ourselves, we need to love each other and we need to love this amazing, beautiful ever changing earth on which we live.  When we find the love for all that bring us together maybe we can find the key to our troubles.  Love all that you can!

To See

       The time ticks by… slower and slower until it seems as if time has stopped altogether. Her chest heaves up and down, then, it too seemes to stop. She turns her head, eyes quickly scanning the shapes and contours of the room. Colors blend together as her eyes lose the focus that guides her through life. She feels the beating of her heart and knows that in truth time has not stopped, even though her world seems to have come to a grinding halt. She raises her hand in front of her eyes; they’ve stopped scanning the room and don’t even seem to see at all. She wiggles her fingers-muted colors flash before her eyes to alert her that she is able to see-but unable to really look.

       She breathes again, deeper this time. She allows her eyes to close while breathing in and keeps them closed as she breathes out. In and out, in and out, she continues to breathe while counting to 10. Her hope is that when she opens her eyes again she will see, feel and be her normal self again. In and out, in and out, as she reaches ten she breathes deep again and slowly opens her eyes.
Her lids are heavy; she raises them just the same. She feels the same, yet her vision has changed. She no longer sees clearly. Gone are the outlines holding atoms together- there are no distinct forms. There is nothing separate-only colors that bleed from dark to light- colors to represent objects previously clearly seen. Her eyes open wide in panic as she searches for familiar pieces in her room, objects that gave comfort to her life.  Her heart quickens, so does her breathing- faster and harder as fear and realization sweep over her as storm overtakes the sun. She can no longer control herself and panic engulfs her, her mind shoots questions that she fears the answers to. She doesn’t see as she did before, her new visions are startling- the colors a mess. She sees an area made up of yellows and golds and knows that is what used to be her bed. A safe and comfy place to hide- now the only spot that has held itself together. The only sense she can rely on at the moment is touch. 

       She feels the bed beneath her body. She sits up slowly. Her sight is still off so she keeps her eyes shut and tries to picture the form of her bed in her mind. Her hand smooths the covers down around her. The blanket feels the same but as she peeks through one eye she sees that it seems to be flowing through the spectrum of yellows, as if the blanket itself is breathing.

       She squeezes her eyes shut. In her mind she knows where the bed should end, she tries to confirm by sliding her hand towards the edge of the mattress. It stops where it should and she bends over and follows the angle of the mattress down to the floor. The cool touch of wood on the floor assures her, it’s there. She opens her eyes and looks down; browns and blacks, swirls cover the floor. The colors seem to be blending in endless motion yet it feels firm and in place beneath her hand. She closes her eyes again; the constant colors in motion are overwhelming her. She sits and allows her mind to grapple with the challenge she seems to be faced with today.

The Beginning

UGH! She thinks as a tiredness so overwhelming and complete settles over her.  It’s the weight of life, the weight of all the should be’s, could haves and would have been.  It’s an enormously heavy weight.  The weight of all of society’s ideas, of her family's ideas, her friend’s ideas, even the weight of strangers’ ideas.  Ideas and expectations all weighing her down until she can barely hold her head up, barely open her eyes, barley hold onto a vanishing thought as she mentally files through all of the information and ideals put on her to better herself, to succeed, to be happy, to be.  The weight brings her down so that she doesn’t think that she will ever be able to just be.

        She thinks of those calm and wistful souls who practice yoga daily and echo the ruminations of the Buddha as they flow through their days.  Seemingly so secure and full of light and positive energy, are the supernatural?  Do they live on the same planet as she does, she wonders to herself.  How can they seem so light and free?  Do they have a trick, a secret that allows them to just be?  If so, share it please, she thinks, what about me?

        Her thoughts race around inside her head.  Don’t I get to feel that flow? She wonders.  I chase it and chase it but never see the end.  In looking I probably lost it, trying to look outwards for something that can only be found within.  But isn’t that what we all do for all of our lives?  We search the world for feelings and answers when really we can search endlessly throughout the outer plane in which we live never finding an answer; until we turn inside to search ourselves and search to find what we need within.

Sacred Grove

I’ve read of sacred groves where trees are honored and all is well. The moments are calm, with spaces of serenity, of refuge and enlightenment. They are living temples which should be revered and protected. They are secure from the chaos that fights to get in; Secure from the dark that is ever following.


Groves of lush, life, born directly from the earth- a gift from the creator, life growing up, growing out, and growing down. Life flows through the roots into the ground, life flows through the trunk- strong and sturdy into our dimension, life flows from stem to branch to leaf and out- energy flowing into the heavens to be cycled again.


Endless streams of life flow all around and these trees, in the grove, balance the flow among three: the heavens, the earth, and the underworld. The energy flows up, in and out creating a vaccum of light. Light that flows through us all, light that is our life.


Seek out the grove and give thanks for the beauty, give thanks for the life, give thanks for the grove that balances all, that balances us. Seek the grove and be sturdy and strong, seek the groove and feel flow and be serene, seek the groove to revere and protect, seek the groove inside of you. Be strong, be sturdy, protect yourself and your calm. Find the grove that is calm inside of you. Embrace it and grow.

Little girl

     She sees a young girl, shiny black hair cut in a pageboy style- just like Buster Brown she thinks with a smile, sitting by herself in a yellow room.  All around her life is yellow; the walls of the room, the dressers, the shag carpeting that she loves to wiggle her toes in, the bedspread and sheets, yellow, yellow everywhere.  It’s as if someone wanted this room to beam radiantly like sunshine on a hot summer day.  The yellow is comforting, it’s warm, it’s sunny, it’s as if the yellow is the love and intense feeling pouring from our largest star, our sun.  The young girl doesn’t seem to radiate as brightly as the rest of the room, in fact she doesn’t radiate anything even resembling yellow, she’s more of a deep purple, the kind of purple tinged with blue that results from a fall or the coming of a bruise. 
     She’s crying, rocking back and forth with her arms gripping her knees to her chest.  The girl looks around her room taking in all of the yellow warmth, but not accepting it to warm her.  In fact, she wants to get away from it, she wants to run and hide.  Where could she go, she doesn’t know, she’s young, only a bit more than five and she feels all alone.  All alone in this beautifully pleasing room, feeling no warmth, no sunshine,no yellow, feeling no connection at all to the abundance of yellow, no connection to the world surrounding her. 
     She hears her name being called from downstairs.  She waits, she breathes in and out- trying to keep the tears under control.  Her name is called again.  She forcefully wipes the tears from under her eyes.  She blinks again and again forcing the tears to stop flowing.  Forcing her little mind to grasp control over herself.  Forcing herself to put on a happy face.  She slowly rises from the bed and heads toward the sound of her name.  The little girl knows that her mother is waiting, waiting for her little face to beam sunshine to her.  The girl doesn’t know if she’ll be able to do it but she walks down the stairs trying for the smile that only touches her lips, never reaching into her eyes. 

me

I sit. I go.
I drive, I walk, I talk, I see, I feel. 
I think.  I am.
I feel, I feel, I feel, I often feel too much.

I see, I see colors, I see light.
I see life all aound me.

I touch, I touch the textures of my world.
It's rough and smooth,
both hot and cold,
I hope to feel them many times,
each and every day
until I am old.

To feel the wind upon my skin,
breeze flowing thorugh my hair,
sunshine burning down upon my cheek
to live, to be
to live free
to be me