There are places
I like to go
When the world seems
A little grey
I like to go
When the world seems
A little grey
Places where
I always find
The colour
I’ve been missing
Tag: life lessons
Maelstrom
Caught in the maelstrom of thoughts
I am lost in a chaos of possibilities
I am lost in a chaos of possibilities
So I breathe
Let go the thoughts
Dispelling
The chaos
Until I am conscious
Only of being
Smart phones and donkey carts
I live in a world
Of smartphones and donkey carts
Of poverty I have known
And poverty I cannot imagine
Of wealth I have known
And wealth I cannot fathom
Of smartphones and donkey carts
Of poverty I have known
And poverty I cannot imagine
Of wealth I have known
And wealth I cannot fathom
The Open-hearted Joy of a Child
There is nothing quite like
The open-hearted joy of a child
Such a presence is a gift
Reminding me that everything
Is going to be just fine
The open-hearted joy of a child
Such a presence is a gift
Reminding me that everything
Is going to be just fine
High Vantage
Even the benefit of high vantage
May not reveal the road ahead
May not reveal the road ahead
I travel the path before me
Accepting the unknown
Tenacity ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #20
Some mornings
I get out of bed
Begin the day
Clinging to what I have
Thinking that is tenacity
I get out of bed
Begin the day
Clinging to what I have
Thinking that is tenacity
But if the coffee wakes me up
I remind myself to find a way
To reach a little further
Climb a little higher
Take another step forward
My Bright Mantra
Eight years ago, right about this time, my life was a process of transformations. Significant ones. Life changers. World changers. Personal, spiritual, career, love: you name it, it was changing. It seemed like Bif Naked had a song for every single transformation, every single condition I was experiencing.
Prayer Wheels
Clockwise. Always clockwise. Clockwise round. Walking, spinning. Always clockwise. The wheels turn, continue turning, after they pass. Some turn and turn and turn while others fight against the inertia. Pilgrims, bright and tattered, or bright, or tattered. Some of these too will turn and turn, always clockwise, round the cluster of buildings capped in gold and brass at Labrangsi.
I will not count them: the prayer wheels, the meters, the pilgrims, the steps, the number of times I will feel the smooth patina of wood against my palm. I say to Emma: “I want to do this.” She assents.
Velocity
The world reels by, unfurling at 90 miles an hour. At this speed, travel gains the sense of dance even on a relatively straight, flat interstate such as this section of I-395. I am aware of the countryside, the gentle undulations of the valley floor contrasting the angular gyrations of slowly eroding hillsides; I am aware of the thinning stands of Joshua Tree and can pick out a few individual shapes for their magnificence or their decrepitude; I notice the snowline band so evenly frosting the hill tops, that I am climbing toward the line, that I am now above it and that the snow along the roadside proceeds from spare dollops to a thin crust with mesquite poking through.
Pix to Words 