AWESOME

AWESOME
This is a fountain I need in my yard!!

NAMASTE

Welcome to my blog. It is a blog of my meanderings, my ideas, my celebrations, my thoughts and my activism. It follows no organized or well thought out plan of any kind, just posts that catch my heart or mind or soul. Enjoy!

I am a river with a voice,
I came into your life by choice
And none can judge the way that it feels.
You are a messenger from god
you are the angel ive got
and none can say it isnt real..... (Roseanne Cash-The Wheel)

Friday, June 27, 2008

life unfurls

and i watch with anticipation. When one has all the foundations of life crashing down around you, memories ripped away from you and new ones fitted in, when it seems like not one more thing can be thrown your way..... it helps to step back and moment and BREATHE....
and just WAIT for it to all clear.
Wait for the dust to settle,,, the pain to subside..the broken heart to just stop hurting so damn much.
Life is what it is and I dont know what is my journey but i know my goal..to be the best i can be.
To BE the best person i can be is really all any of us can do.

But some days i tire. I tire of holding my arms up and being strong. Being a rock for those who are around me. I am overwhelmed with things people say or do that are only to hurt another. I sometimes let them make me falter and wonder at my purpose. I let their voices into my head and i let their mean spirited ghosts wander my life.
But not for long......not for long at all.

The Layers

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers,
not on the litter."
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written,
I am not done with my changes.

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