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Stone on the Beach

I pick up a small round stone on the beach
I hold it in my hand—it is still wet from the Waves that have washed over it or perhaps Washed it up just as I picked it up and I Wonder about it—where has it been all These years before it met me on this beach I think about its sister stones up in the desert Who haven’t seen an ocean in eons--just Soaking up sun without waves—this blessed Stone has both sun and waves—I raise my arm And toss it back into the waters—Perhaps we Will meet again
Recent posts

Sing For The Dead

When you wake in the morning Sing for the dead Your walk to the coffee maker Is a victory march
You are alive—last night people died Sing for the for the fires Sing for the hurricanes And the earthquakes Sing for the violence The floods, the starving
Sing for cancer and sing for those Who just said “goodnight” to a world That promised love and took it away
In your song the dead will hear And will smile and bless us

Wisdom Is Not Words

Wisdom is not words It’s something in the eyes… Something in experience Something that was hurt And was wounded and healed And tucked away in the heart
The healed heart talks to the eyes Quietly saying “See differently” “See quietly” The world that hurt you Is not forever.
Words will talk And say wise things
But the words are a mask Of the heart--who knows That what the eyes see Are mealy waves on a Very deep ocean

Shared Values

The Shared Values of Spiritual/Political Independents
Respect for the spark of life in every human being.
Respect for the Earth and all living things.
Respect for all cultures, races, genders and religions.
The validity of science, philosophy and spirituality in our search for truth.
Justice and compassion in all human affairs

I Lie On My Back

I lie on my back on a grassy hill At night alone with the moon and stars And the breath of cool night air Thoughts try to think me And I stop them—they are yesterday And tomorrow—not tonight Where the stillness of this moment Lets me pass into s specialness Of quietness uncomplicated By thinking

Torn World

I watch the dance in the torn world Torn between body and soul The body is animal—The soul is so very human The body is flesh—willing to fight for self The soul is something new on earth Emerging out of Earth into uncharted realms Where caring replaces the self And knowing replaces instinct And the soul discovers love—unknown To the animal but he is fascinated Love and lust become mixed  In the new human brain and.... The confusion is immense— Often beautiful—often violent—often both Then they die—but the soul has left its mark In beauty, in words, in images, in things, in love

Sometimes.....

Sometimes I am stopped dead in my tracks by beauty by something that doesn’t come from within me but something outside of me.
Sometimes a sunrise.I wake before dawn and make coffee and walk out on my back porch.The sun rises with golden rose touches on the clouds.I watch.The sun says “don’t think, just watch” and the sun rises over the ocean, over the mountains and the sleeping city.I drink my coffee in silence. The sun would rise with or without me.
Sometimes a simple blooming lily in the garden next to the building where I live.Age has slowed me down and I notice things that younger, I would have sped right by.Its blossom is small but glorious and I pause and bow to beauty surrounded by traffic and horns and people catching the bus. Knowing this flower would bloom with or without me…with or without the people catching the bus.
I know it won’t make any difference in their life or mine but sometimes A simple unexpected beauty can quiet the ugliness we have to live with.