Wednesday, March 7, 2018


Whenever nature explodes in an aberrational fury as it is today in the east, we quickly reestablish awe for her power and acknowledge our respect, not only for her seemingly indiscriminate manifestation of the elements but for a force we cannot control or appreciate.

In nature’s harshness, there is poetic beauty.

O northeast states in winters grasp
Delighting all who choose to know
What beauty comes from steady cold
And sifted blizzard-driven snow.

Drifted, diamond dunes of white
Cover street and tree and trail
With crystal sparks from nature's heart,
A blanket ode to season frail.

Long shadows cast by breaking dawn
Create the grays upon the bright
From standing buildings tall and straight
Peeking, poking through the white.

Cold, early hurried people trudge,
With crunchy steps on blowing way,
Their rhythmic puffs of huffing breath
Will vanish with the warmth - someday.

In all things, we can find beauty, if we look for it. The looking, however, must not diminish our compassion for those who cannot see it until their weather becomes a gentle climate. Hold on; spring is coming.

Monday, March 5, 2018

Sunday Morning Meditations

Sunday morning meditations in the living room where I rarely go.

We are in a tumultuous period of our human history. Look at what's happening in the world to validate the statement. What all of us learn from the process is that we can't control it. That frustrates some and emboldens others for there is a struggle between forces of the new and the concrete of the past. The answer may come from the carnival wheel barker who chants "round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows."

I hope we each don't have to wait until we have nothing to lose and nothing to gain before we change our thoughts and thus our minds. It seems to me the need to be right is the problem. If we let go of that, we may receive the grace of transcendence.

Enough of Sunday morning! I'm looking forward to the truculent energy of Monday morning, so I can learn again and again to let go.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Unwanted Phone Calls

There is so much going on in political Washington, that I will leave it for another time and post.

I do have a question for the readers of this blog. Has this ever happened to you?

The Phone rings. It's a number you don't recognize. You reluctantly answer, and there is a very slight pause, and then the person says, "I'm Hazel with accounts services, and I want to talk to you about your account."

By that time I usually hang up, because it's either a scam or an advertisement.

Other calls are from some police organizations, and it's always with a forceful live guy on the other end pitching help for the FOP, the PBA, the SBA, or some other benevolent fraternity. They never listen. They are insistent. If I say I give to my local law guys, they say, let me put you down for just ten dollars. By this time I'm indignant, and I hang up, not without an expletive or two.

Apparently, if you are on the "do not call list" you have to re-up every so often. I just bought a new phone system. It has a call block feature. I love it.

Monday, February 26, 2018


Hypocrisy thy name is the UN Security Council.

Last Friday the Council voted unanimously for a thirty-day cease-fire in Syria and the lifting of sieges.

Syrian Asad forces backed by Russian bombs have been killing civilians in rebel-held territory. Tens of thousands may have been killed or maimed in war-ravaged enclaves.

The United States backs the rebels with its firepower.

The United States is the number one supplier of weapons to the world. Number two is Russia. Next comes France, China, and the United Kingdom.

The US, Russia, the UK, China, and France are the five permanent members of the Security Council. Are they voting for a cease-fire so they can sell and re-supply more weapons?

When will governments, the suppliers of arms, and those who buy them realize their greed is the source of war's pain and dying in the world?

The so-called leaders of our fragile planet purport that peace is complicated. The heart, the temple of compassion and the soul of the Golden Rule, knows it's simple.

Friday, February 23, 2018

The desert wind

I sat in the courtyard of a beautiful adobe home on the outskirts of Santa Fe, a few years ago and listened to the voice of a high desert wind.

The courtyard trees translated the wind's voice and pulled me into a meditation of awe and expectation. I had several minutes of being alone. It was magnificent and an eternity in a single experience.

The wind sound was not the rustle of an Eastern forest when the wind speaks through the trees.

It was not the clapping voice of the low desert where palm fronds applaud in a steady wind and clap their appreciation to the All That Is.

It was an undulating hushing voice of a canyon wind speaking through the Pines and Cactus and Sage. This is the same wind that has forever honored the native people of the southwest, and it honors each of us for we are the sister and brother winds of breath.

I’ve spent time in the desert camping, hiking and just listening. It is an experience of stunning silence. In the morning and early evening the wind is present and, as I mentioned, the wind brings its own sounds. In the stifling bright hot of the day all is quiet. The only movements are the translucent and distorting heat waves rising off the baking-sand in the sun.

I think about these things, mostly in the winter.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Good Grief

From where do these people come?

"A Florida legislator’s aide was fired Tuesday after claiming two survivors of the Parkland high school shooting were not students, but instead “actors that travel to various crisis when they happen.”"

Apparently he saw a clip on a YouTube conspiracy site.

We may be born ignorant, but you'd think that by the time you are an adult you'd have developed some discernment. Sensitivity might come in another lifetime.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

The Path to Greatness

I had an extraordinary experience many years ago. I was on Ellis Island in New York harbor. If you haven’t been there, you should visit it and wonder.

It is a place that is energized by the resonant memory of the past.

It’s an exhilarating experience standing in what is now the Ellis Island museum. I felt the courageous spirits of our immigrant ancestors and profound respect for their courage to embrace unknown change. So many moved step by step through the great hall on their way to liberty.

When I was there amid the din of other people and soft conversation. I walked the path and steps that 18-million immigrants followed. I felt their hearts with each step and stop on the stairs. I sensed the pride at what they accomplished, and at what this country has become because of them and what we still can be.

These ghosts of greatness still linger there, not because they came through that portal of liberty so many years ago, but because they returned to stand watch. Their presence is everywhere, in old photographs, in hundred-year-old scribbled messages to loved ones on a passage wall, and in the descendants, who visit there and keep it hallowed ground.

Ellis island reminds us that it does not matter how or where or when potential greatness comes to this land, it only matters what one does with the manifesting dreams of freedom, opportunity, and responsibility.
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