Sometimes the Simplest Things

Sometimes
the simplest things
give me pause,
like bringing water,
electricity,
and fire
into our houses...

and letting me
use them all...

The forecast was rain...

they got the 1 to 2 inches right...


Out of thin air,
I pull my thoughts together,
waking from a dream
to find the earth around me
cloaked in white again.
Patience, patience wears thin,
but I know the sun
will do what the sun will do,
and all this snow
will melt away.

And, my love,
my heart and soul
drifts back to you,
I marvel how delicately
you pull me back to you.
Perhaps a gravitational force,
perhaps a light and warmth
greater than the sun,
this grey morning,
you shine.

Hope Is A Green Thing

Every gardener knows
that in February,
the longest month of winter,
that hope is a green thing
that appears in the brown litter.
Spring reveals itself
in the remains of autumn.
Everything is dead,
and then there it is,
that green thing that is hope.

What is Right?

What is right?  I asked myself this question three times today.  I don't know.  But, I believe in these four principles: 1. The Right should be naturally evident, and not some arbitrary requirement imposed to test me.  2. I am the Authority for what is right for me; and I will surrender my authority and sovereignty to God (and Jean, my wife) and no one else.  3. I will use apparent and possible consequences to decide what is right for me.  4. I will change my mind as new evidence prompts me.

Who decides what is right?  I do...

Each of us do.

Waiting

There Is A Spirit

There is a spirit in my garden, an intelligence, a soul.

This is the season of hope!

yep!

Preparing

I have surrounded myself with symbols, icons of beliefs and perspectives, words unspoken beneath my breath, inside a sigh.  I have gathered all the elements to create a new life, but can I assemble all the parts and then breathe life into it?  Can I point my creation through the canyons?  Will it find rest tonight?  Will keep its sanity?  Will it hold together as a whole?  I sort through all the pieces of certainty and faith flashed into my eyes.  I want it all!

Framed

each of our lives is framed
by time, from birth to death
by space, we are always here
by love of those we love

10:31 PM, 10 February 2020

I sit with this stone in my hand
and questions in my head.
My eyes are tired,
but I still look
at this stone for answers.

Nothing is quite right
at this hour of fatigue
and restlessness.
What am I to do?
Or rather, what am I?
How deep is this well?
What waters can I draw up
from its dark depths?
Indeed, what am I to do?

This mute red sandstone,
stolen from beneath a cliff,
from the bank of a river,
reminds me of where I am,
but nothing more
than what I can imagine
as I sit with it tonight.

In the Dark (Sometimes)

"Time is always the great revealer of truth."  Simon Sinek

Are there truths that are not evident or rational?

Anything can be used as a symbol... That's what our imaginations do.

February seems like the longest month of winter, and this year it's even longer!

Two Falsehoods: 1. If everyone is doing it, it must be OK.  2. If the POTUS does it, it must be legal.

A selfie in the moon light looks like I'm in the dark.

My eyes can see much better in the dark than my camera...

Anchors

I woke this morning from a prepper's dream... to news of civil distrust and coronavirus deaths... I wondered what the future would be for us all... and I let my anxiety drag me down another rabbit hole of doubt.

I watched the snow fall into my artificial slot canyon, and the junkos and sparrows come and visit my feeder.  And I wrote out my thoughts and feelings, to return to a single thought, a breath, a syllable...

I then looked at my anchors: a fossil, a red sandstone, my journal and a pen.  I could see my place in time, my place on this planet, and my work I have chosen for myself.

If junkos and sparrows can live through this snow storm, I can live through this time as well.

Now I will go hug my wife as well...

Hold on to the Light

Bare Foot in the Garden

Yep... it was cold.

I've Got Bones in the Ground

I know I've got bones in the ground
but I can't find them;
no where looks like it did
when my folks lived here.

How is it that the sun's still up there
and the earth's still down here,
but I still got lost somehow?
I got bones in the ground somewhere...

a glyph

sentinel

I Am A Disturbance

In the daylight,
I let the sunlight
reflect off my face
into space forever.

In the evening,
I sing a song
that vibrates the air,
changing the weather,
perhaps in Africa.