who we are
what makes me sad is sharing half-truths.
no matter what we say it seems we can’t wrap the whole truth of life into 1,000 words, let alone a half sentence.
no matter what we say we can’t express the mystery.
sometimes that makes me very happy. inexpressibly happy, even! to not be able to express the mystery of life’s constant inexpressibility. it’s a gift, really, a hidden gift, but a gift nonetheless.
sometimes we weep in frustration attempting to share what can’t be shared.
every time i type the word “i” it’s misunderstood, at least by myself.
It’s my birthday, dear reader.
Time to celebrate the arrival of this 55th year!
Imagine, what mysteries shall present themselves in a new year on this planet?
We can never know how many small delights, how many heart aches, how many bird songs await us.
Some Native Americans give gifts to their friends instead of receiving presents, expressing gratitude for the joy of accompaniment.
This week it will be three years since a wonderful spiritual awakening on my 52nd birthday. In gratitude, I’ve spent lots of time this week focusing on Presence and the love which we all are.
Just like you guys are some of my favorites in this beautiful lifetime of possibility!
Let's walk down the road to the Eagle Pond this fine April evening
Count yourself a lucky soul, if a pond exists within a stones throw of your couch. If one doesn’t exist, fathom it out. Trespass if you must. Ponds speak to your underwater longing. You can find yourself while pausing cross-legged in pine needles beside a mirrored pond.
Not tellin' nothin'
Last night I dreamed that I published eight blog posts today. They all contained one picture.
Consider yourselves lucky.
I’m only publishing one post.
Isn’t she cute?
Where do you think she is?
More on this tomorrow.