Saturday, March 18, 2017
In Love With The Natural World
Out the back door and up the hill; I love the trek.
This relic marks halfway "up".
It is beautiful, this land, and Colorado is a lovely place to call home.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Rarely Black & White
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| Rather we are hues Glorious color, diversity Shapes and sizes Thoughts, beliefs, ways Parts of the Whole Ever moving with The One. |
The Love Letter
Two year old draft rediscovered tonight. It's safe to publish....now ......that I am in the arms of the Colorado's mountains.
"Brown boxes are everywhere - cardboard in every size, on every speck, of every space, in every room. There are empty boxes, half full ones and those ready to be named. Nothing feels very solid around here these days - other than cardboard telling me that I am going somewhere.
Moving isn't quite my cup of tea any more, but there are sweet spots. When you move you get to dust off and revisit the corners of your life. Some of what adorns my home have served their purpose - these will get shared or tossed. The rest - still meaningful and necessary - will make their way to Colorado. I get to choose.
Tonight was devoted to packing books - the ones beside the bed. I glanced at the titles - a funny mixture of poetry and running, Huxley and humor co-mingling! A wide range of interests and a library to match.
Then I saw the words. The packing came to a hault.
Kahlil Gibran's, The Prophet. Its pages well-worn and softly cradling a letter. I knew instantly what lay before me. Gibran's lens on love and my Beloved's feelings once known by heart. His words had turned my life upside down and right-side up so many years ago.
For a second I wondered if I should read even one poetic sentence. But I wanted to feel again what once was and then experience how much my heart had healed.
I grabbed a glass of wine, propped up the pillows and settled in for a long summer's night read. It was good and by midnight I was done....nothing left. Lessons learned, boxes packed, wine consumed.
This once loved woman, or so I felt, shed hardly a tear. I earned my rock star status this hour.. TIME. It simply takes time."
"Brown boxes are everywhere - cardboard in every size, on every speck, of every space, in every room. There are empty boxes, half full ones and those ready to be named. Nothing feels very solid around here these days - other than cardboard telling me that I am going somewhere.
Moving isn't quite my cup of tea any more, but there are sweet spots. When you move you get to dust off and revisit the corners of your life. Some of what adorns my home have served their purpose - these will get shared or tossed. The rest - still meaningful and necessary - will make their way to Colorado. I get to choose.
Tonight was devoted to packing books - the ones beside the bed. I glanced at the titles - a funny mixture of poetry and running, Huxley and humor co-mingling! A wide range of interests and a library to match.
Then I saw the words. The packing came to a hault.Kahlil Gibran's, The Prophet. Its pages well-worn and softly cradling a letter. I knew instantly what lay before me. Gibran's lens on love and my Beloved's feelings once known by heart. His words had turned my life upside down and right-side up so many years ago.
For a second I wondered if I should read even one poetic sentence. But I wanted to feel again what once was and then experience how much my heart had healed.
I grabbed a glass of wine, propped up the pillows and settled in for a long summer's night read. It was good and by midnight I was done....nothing left. Lessons learned, boxes packed, wine consumed.
This once loved woman, or so I felt, shed hardly a tear. I earned my rock star status this hour.. TIME. It simply takes time."
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Losing and Winning
I was thinking about all the resources and effort that my son recently gave to a music competition. Winning, of course, was the dream and potential payoff, and while a finalist, nonetheless he felt short of that top spot. But his efforts and progress connected so many of us - through the music and also through the human experience of giving something our all. Regardless of outcome, there is joy in the journey.
My son.
My son.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Making Sense of Aurora
Today I am equally anguished by the senseless killings in Aurora, Colorado as I am overjoyed with memories of deliberate kindnesses offered by so many people on my recent bike journey. For hours and miles and only 30 days ago, I met countless good, good citizens. Men and woman who knew me not, yet opened their hearts and homes to a stranger. So many people, so often who gave so much day after day after day.
Yet when I reflect on the tragedy emerging from Aurora, it is the destructive behavior of one man that demands my attention. I think I 'get' the good in people. I see it and feel it regularly. I can name and point to it and recognize those bejeweled by it. I can cite chapter and verse and put goodness on it's rightful pedestal. I even can sing it's tune and paint it's colors. But it doesn't seem to be what we need right now - or at least not yet.
Humanity's evil nature with it's dark, raging eyes bent on destruction is what demands my attention the most today. And rightfully so. Until we understand why and how a good mind snaps or we learn about patterns of behavior that point to a crisis emerging and it's prevention or remedy - until we fully own the reality that any of us are a heart beat away from a mental illness or that we know without a doubt that James Holmes could easily be our son or brother, we literally or figuratively will continue to shoot at the weeds growing among us. Life deserves solutions not more shooting.
But the beauty of life is that it won't let us reside among the harmful for ever. Life calls to us and calls us back - time and time again. Survivors from theater 9 are calling. Anguished families are calling. Our children are crying and bullies are ready to shoot.
We are circling the issue of mental health. How many of us are grief-stricken looking at this hair-dyed-a ridiculous red color doctoral student, knowing he is someones child and brother and a California community's own? How many of us want his life to end - fast or better yet, ignore him and focus on those we lost?
Mental illness is front and center again. And it is demanding our collective focus.
Yet when I reflect on the tragedy emerging from Aurora, it is the destructive behavior of one man that demands my attention. I think I 'get' the good in people. I see it and feel it regularly. I can name and point to it and recognize those bejeweled by it. I can cite chapter and verse and put goodness on it's rightful pedestal. I even can sing it's tune and paint it's colors. But it doesn't seem to be what we need right now - or at least not yet.
Humanity's evil nature with it's dark, raging eyes bent on destruction is what demands my attention the most today. And rightfully so. Until we understand why and how a good mind snaps or we learn about patterns of behavior that point to a crisis emerging and it's prevention or remedy - until we fully own the reality that any of us are a heart beat away from a mental illness or that we know without a doubt that James Holmes could easily be our son or brother, we literally or figuratively will continue to shoot at the weeds growing among us. Life deserves solutions not more shooting.
But the beauty of life is that it won't let us reside among the harmful for ever. Life calls to us and calls us back - time and time again. Survivors from theater 9 are calling. Anguished families are calling. Our children are crying and bullies are ready to shoot.
We are circling the issue of mental health. How many of us are grief-stricken looking at this hair-dyed-a ridiculous red color doctoral student, knowing he is someones child and brother and a California community's own? How many of us want his life to end - fast or better yet, ignore him and focus on those we lost?
Mental illness is front and center again. And it is demanding our collective focus.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The American Way
Relatively speaking, these are tough times. Less merry making and photo-op vacations for some. And others? The days and months have become agonizingly long years.
Keeping homes and families together, food on the table, even holding onto the essence of ones job-self in this compromised economy takes work. On the surface many of us look like we belong and are prospering, appearing American as apple pie. On the inside, however, we've constructed a facade.
It's taken a toll, this pretending has. On all of us. The ground upon which we've built, the institutions we've trusted, even our beliefs and values have become shaky, some are crumbling. As the contrast between what once was and what is filters through our consciousness, we seek balance and in doing so, again, are reminded that life's nature is to ebb and flow.
Of course, this rhythm-tide worth remembering will bring correction. There will come a time when we will celebrate again, but not before we prune and cleanse. Beware, though. For as we blame and slash away the wrong-doing politicians and CEOs, we must take a long, hard look at ourselves, that which we value and the systems we have birthed. In the final analysis, it is human nature to want more and more. Yet when left unbridled, this impulse leads to an insatiable appetite. Redefining ourselves - the American Way and our American Dream - must take priority if we are to call this nation great.
Keeping homes and families together, food on the table, even holding onto the essence of ones job-self in this compromised economy takes work. On the surface many of us look like we belong and are prospering, appearing American as apple pie. On the inside, however, we've constructed a facade.
It's taken a toll, this pretending has. On all of us. The ground upon which we've built, the institutions we've trusted, even our beliefs and values have become shaky, some are crumbling. As the contrast between what once was and what is filters through our consciousness, we seek balance and in doing so, again, are reminded that life's nature is to ebb and flow.
Of course, this rhythm-tide worth remembering will bring correction. There will come a time when we will celebrate again, but not before we prune and cleanse. Beware, though. For as we blame and slash away the wrong-doing politicians and CEOs, we must take a long, hard look at ourselves, that which we value and the systems we have birthed. In the final analysis, it is human nature to want more and more. Yet when left unbridled, this impulse leads to an insatiable appetite. Redefining ourselves - the American Way and our American Dream - must take priority if we are to call this nation great.
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