Come to me, goodness. GOODNESS! GRACE! The moving forward on the good path’s ground. Come to me now.
Look at these cuddly years passing, scampering their wee bodies over the big plush couch. Innocuous, till. Shoot, where’d they go? All those little years, running around underfoot.
I’ll just keep calling for the life I want. GOODNESS! GRACE!
Come find me on the battlefield; offer me your hand, and I’ll rise like a kite. We’ll stride through the fighting and leave a tinkling armory landing on the tilled ground. Without weapons, opponents will be revealed as neighbors and walk on to care for their daily needs. Life will proceed. Anger will evaporate like puddles, and then the rain will fall, and the sun will shine, and this field will bloom with irises like forgiveness and resurrection. So mote it be.
GOODNESS! come, come, come.
GRACE! please enter.
May my force be a mirror
that helps Light travel
to where it needs to go.
Please help our lives to shine.
With four drops of lemongrass oil touched to my candle, the citrusy haunt dances me back to Hawaii. The ocean’s surf is crashing through my body, effervescing at my hips. Continue reading
Secretly, we’re all heroes sometimes, whether or not anyone notices. Making loving choices that aim for balance is heroic. And that’s the truth. Three to five business days after private acts of courage or sacrifice, we should all receive superhero capes in the mail. Continue reading
In my dream, I glued butterfly wings on my eyelids for eyelashes. A woman talked to me about my grief over losing my dad and said I couldn’t just bumble through the waves and drown, and I saw a pale-green image of myself walking along the sea floor as the tall waves passed above me. Continue reading
I was concerned about the cooling temperatures, and days shrinking on the edges, and trees changing, rattling, and shedding leaves. But then it kept being so beautiful, so that helped. New Mexico is like my long-time lover I think I know so well; nineteen years we’ve been together sleeping side by side, putting up with each other’s shit. Continue reading
I miss you, words. I miss all the doors you held open for me that led to other places only a breath away.
Lately my writing feels flat and heavy like I’m working with a sheet of slate instead of paper, and writing things down is tiring. Continue reading
Sometimes I think it’s too bad I got bigger.
My new desk has a small shelf under the table, which I realize would make a very nice cave addition Continue reading