February 2011 - Whitehall, NY
And what does it come to, Pilgrim,
This walking to and fro on the earth, knowing
That nothing changes, and everything;
And only, to tell it, these sad marks,
Phrases half-parsed, ellipses and scratches across the dirt?
It comes to a point. It comes and it goes.
Charles Wright, Bloodlines
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
becuase God said so
The
Gospel Truth
As Told to Me by God
I
now proclaim, from heretofore until forevermore, that the word
"becuase" is no longer a misspelling. It is merely a disspelling,
which is not as bad as a misspelling. I can make this proclamation becuase God,
with whom I was conversing last night, put me in charge of spreading the Good
News about Spelling. He told me that's what the word Gospel
really means -- Good news about Spelling.
The Good News
is that God doesn't give a shit about spelling. Which you may already know if
you are an intelligent person with a good education but still get judged by
spelling snobs every time your fingers are faster than your brain. But now you also know becuase I told you -- becuase you are lucky enough to have an
"in" with the Spiritual Speller. That is the title God gave me last night
What?
You
don't believe me?
I
can prove it. You come hang out with me and I will let you talk to God with me.
It might take more than one day becuase God doesn't talk to me every day. That
would be just silly. I mean, he has War and Starvation, Disease and Suffering,
Violence and Sorrow, and Lice
on Schoolchildren's Heads with which to deal. Why would he talk to the
Spiritual Speller every day?
Anyway,
if what I am saying weren't true, why would God have let us think up the
electronic spell checker? The spell checker is God's way of telling us that,
while standardized spelling is a boon to communication and understanding, it is
in no way a measure of a person's spiritual worth, depth of soul, or
intelligence quotient (IQ is Lucifer’s idea, btw.)
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
As Clear As The Drops Of Dew
Last night I dreamed that I saw a tiny girl, fragile and delicate, wearing slippers of devotional blue. We were sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by pillows and silks and a young child's toys. Her slippers were adorned with smooth sparkling gems, as clear as the drops of dew which gather in the leaves of Lady's Mantle. There was someone trying to do her harm. She could not hide because her slippers were so beautiful and attracted so much attention. I wanted to save her. I wanted to warn her about her slippers, tell her that she should take them off and hide them. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't save her.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
The underside of a mullein leaf
| The underside of a mullein leaf |
These things feel joyous to me:
the heat of the sun
the blue of the sky
the textures of things which touch my skin
the way details emerge,
so achingly beautiful,
from the chaos of the world
the feeling of soul/spiritual connection --
with things, with people, with the world
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
High Mowing 2005
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Stories
If we don't share our stories we will all be strangers forever.
There is fear associated with telling our stories. But what the sharing does is open us to Love. To listen without judgment to someone's story is to receive the gift of their self. The story is details and descriptions of feelings and events, a cataloging of confusions and joys. It is a sorting out, a classifying. Those details can awaken us to who we are capable of becoming. They are a way of moving into the future through the past. Sharing something so full of past and of potential creates a vibrant heart connection. It creates Love.
The greatest gift we can offer others is inner silence.
Open our hearts. Leave fear behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Look at me
not with outward eye
but with inward heart.
Follow me there and see
how unencumbered we become.
~ Rumi ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is fear associated with telling our stories. But what the sharing does is open us to Love. To listen without judgment to someone's story is to receive the gift of their self. The story is details and descriptions of feelings and events, a cataloging of confusions and joys. It is a sorting out, a classifying. Those details can awaken us to who we are capable of becoming. They are a way of moving into the future through the past. Sharing something so full of past and of potential creates a vibrant heart connection. It creates Love.
The greatest gift we can offer others is inner silence.
Open our hearts. Leave fear behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Look at me
not with outward eye
but with inward heart.
Follow me there and see
how unencumbered we become.
~ Rumi ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Recent Activity in Algonkian Scholarship
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Why Was I So Hot to Come Back?
If teh letters are all corrcte but in the wrong order it still counts and you sitll get into haeven wiht your pets and your best friend and gte to lounge by the pearly gates wachting all those really really BAD spellers get snet away. And tehn sooner or later yuor turn comes around to get a new body back on earht and "Woo hoo!" you think, "This time i am gonna get all the letters in the right order." Bt it trns out tht you shuda bn thnkn bout smthng els altogthr caus nbdy is hrdly usin vwls anymre and yr tchr gvs u rlly rlly bd grds caus u kp frgttng to leev em out. And so u dnt becm a physicist lk u plnned... bt it trns out thr r no mr of thse anywy. And u thnk... "Why was I so hot to come back? Haevan was...so... haevenly.... and no one cared if I got the letters actually in the right order.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Some Small Thing
Days go by with a complaining mind
then some small thing
will reveal its true name --
like salt,
or water,
or warmth --
and the wonder of that
brings stillness
and gratitude.
then some small thing
will reveal its true name --
like salt,
or water,
or warmth --
and the wonder of that
brings stillness
and gratitude.
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