Home Is Where My Being Is


Oh, you’re a holiday

Oh, you’re a holiday

Now it’s my turn to say

and I say, “You’re a holiday.”

—————— the Bee Gees

Holiday inns and ways
to escape
the core of my being
the life in my days-

There’s dialogue with others
There’s hope midst despair
There’s love in my living
Not getting stuck in repair-

So, I’m singing my song
Painting my poem
There’s love in my living
when I am being home .

From “Heart Spirit – Freeing Our Poetic voice”

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Evening Song


sunset-tableOh the evening sun, it touches down,
coloring all, see day is blest.
Oh, the co-lors flow,
they give my heart this rest –


Oh, these feelings come and go
as the breeze, it whispers low,
and the song it sings
is the song inside my heart.
Oh, the song it sings
is the melody in my soul –

Restless day of needs all done.
Another day, I journey on.
Stop to rest, eve-ning’s song
blends with colors into One –

The colors blending, touch my soul,
painting eve-ning’s feelings whole.
Enchantment of the night
harmony of soul.

“It is one of the tragedies of modern culture that we have
lost touch with these primal thresholds of nature.” –
Anam Cara – A Book of Celtic Wisdom, John O’Donohue

Pond Edge


Shimmering, rippling pond surface
mirror of reflections
encircling trees on edge –

A sudden breeze gently spreads
a yellow-green mist of pollen
across the water’s surface-

“Remain present here,”
says a voice inside –

I enter the silence
at One with the stillness,
of the wind, of the pond –

I am feeling more at peace,
feeling a sense of renewal,
seeing new hope,
letting go of stresses and worries,
baggage dragged down here
to this pond’s edge –

I am at One,
at Peace –

Personal Note: The reconciling of opposites both within and without has been a life journey for me. I say this mindful of being in the midst of a contentious, emotional social, political debate in the USA

How will it be reconciled, I don’t know. I would say, however, that I sense a strong feminine voice and spirit arising, perhaps worldwide. Perhaps that will rescue and nurture where history has brought us. Finding ourselves in present day 21st century reality, the only reasonable alternative, I see, is as many wisdom voices, de Chardin and others, have been counseling us: build a new interior mythos and let go of the prejudices and animosities from the past, and build a new synthesis.

The Garden


What is the garden saying to my soul?

Come and bathe in the color-sea.
The reds, the whites, violets: a mosaic,
a panorama, a journey for the Soul –
A symphony of color
amongst the grand healing tones of green.

Experience in the stillness
the flower’s vibrations.
Be open now to those sounds in the silence
out of which comes all the languages –
Open now to this experience of the Heart.

“The seat of the soul is where
the inner world and the outer world meet.

Where they overlap, it is in every point of the overlap.”

Novalis – translated by Charles E. Passage

Art, How I See It

This is a heartful, beautiful, and profound statement about art in the broadest, most courageous sense.

Artsy Teen

Hi, everyone! My name’s Elm, and I blog over at Just Call me Elm or Something. I’m collaborating with the lovely Maya, which honestly makes my day!

Before anything, I want to tell you what I can see – or rather, what I can’t see. Far be it for me to define myself by this, but I’m blind. I can see nothing out of my right eye, and only light, contrasts and a few shapes out of my left. I couldn’t see faces, beautiful landscapes or anything of the sort. I despise getting pity for it; I’ve always been blind and have never seen anything different from what I do now, and so I view it as normal. To set the scene, I needed to tell you, so that you understand.

Because of my lack of vision, it may be surprising to you that art is actually quite important…

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When Will I Be Loved?

Boy, this a lesson I learned the hard way, but it has made all the difference in my life.

Matrignosis: A Blog About Inner Wisdom

baby-crying-1024x710Late at night a baby cries out in hunger. The exhausted face of its young mother appears over the top of the crib. She thrusts a bottle of cold milk in the baby’s hands and hurries away. Alone, yearning for the softness and warmth of her mother, the baby greedily drinks the milk while a tiny portion of her soul’s light flickers and fades.

A toddler taking his first steps crashes into a table and breaks a lamp.  “Now look what he’s done,” his father shouts at his mother.  “I paid good money for that lamp,” he yells as he storms out of the room. The confused child sees the hurt and fear in his mother’s eyes and begins to wail.

A third-grader on the playground says to her friend, “Look what I can do!” and executes a dance move she saw on TV.  A sixth-grader nearby rolls her eyes…

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