Tag Archives: mystery

“We shall not be tamed!”



The Buick’s windshield covered with heavy dew obscures our road in blurry wet shapes.  Up ahead–just to the left!–oh look, it’s a coyote.  No, it’s a fox.  Darn it, it’s a blurry wet windshield reflection moving into tall waving grasses.

Deep longing to know.  To bond with tan-red wild creature skulking into the sunrise.  To know its name.  To feel its feral wildness, its unknowableness.

I will never know.

And maybe that’s OK.

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Ours is not to wonder why…

Boats heading out to meet fish

Boats heading out to meet fish

…We have bigger fish to fry!

About a year ago Barry’s ex-colleague lazily suggested one late autumn morning in between coffee sips, “Ours is not to wonder why…”

and Barry, ever-the-fisherman replied, “We have bigger fish to fry!”

He told me this today, a year later, in between fascinating tales about who-knows-what as we sat on the couch swapping Sunday stories.

He said he and Cathy came up with this quote early one morning before work. Barry,  a weekly newspaper editor and columnist said, “There has to be a column in this.”

Cathy laughed.

I laughed and laughed this afternoon until I remembered how Cathy died last February.

Then the laughter stopped.

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what holds our sadness always, valentine?

who we are

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.

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Roadside daisies

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!

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It’s all reflection, folks…

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.

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I’m not sayin’ nothin’ until tomorrow…

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.