Friday, January 31, 2014

California Dry

California is suffering from a severe drought. I have lived there twice in my life and I remember the dry and the wet. I also believe that if each of us who reads this blog, would spend just a moment visualizing a wet California then some relief will take place. Give it a try, we have nothing to lose and perhaps confirmation of the power of thought.

It reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago about the Texas drought and the devastation to their corn crop.

Season of the Dry

“They’ll die some more today,” he said, hitching up his overalls.
The dry steals life, leaf by leaf, when green bows to beige.
“Does the green go where it’s wet?” he wondered,
“Is heaven wet and green?
Maybe it will rain today,” he thought,
and shook his head in disbelief at the season of the dry.
He stepped out on the porch and looked upon the field:
weakened stalks of corn, in amber tilting wilt,
a bending supplication to the sun.
A momentary tear welled within his eye
but passed just as quickly in the scorching dry.
“I’ll be with the corn,” he said, moving down the path.
Sarah watched him go, slowly, reverent, to the corn,
like walking to a coffin respectful of the dead.
She knew his heart was saddened, his step told her that.
Each seed, each kernel, a part of him, a planted child,
no given name, but Corn, yet nurtured, and loved,
even as the end came creeping in the season of the dry.
He moved, stepping gently, tender, softly between the rows,
his hands on either side, outstretched in touch,
feeling for the green of life suckled deep within each stalk
protecting root and source
from the searing, barren crust.
“The rain must come,” he said, “to end the season of the dry.”
Then he stood in middle field, surrounded by a leafy wail.
Each plant had spots and withered wrinkles,
long below their time,
each holding to an expectation and reservoir of hope,
waiting for the irrigation that nature’s spirit springs
upon a season of the dry. When all that’s left is trust.
It might have been the heat or maybe something else,
but soon the farmer’s weathered heart
became the mendicant, pleading to a sentient earth,
“Let the water flow.
I know there is some moisture here, some hiding healing rain,
so needed in this parching scorch in the season of the dry.”
“Send the rain,” he prayed, “erase the baking scars,
the tempered cracks of heat that leave their open wounds
stretched long upon the arid fractured loam.
Corn and weed cannot compete,” he thought,
“weakness saps their strength.
They find a way to die together, in the season of the dry.”
Standing there, his waist above the waste, he sobbed.
No one could see his tears, nor his heaving sigh.
“Farmers aren’t supposed to cry,” he thought,
“just sow and reap, not weep.
If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, I’ll have to plow them under, deep,
underneath the dry.”
Later, coming home, he stopped, to find a masking smile.
“Sarah needn’t know,” he thought, only that he’d paid respects
to the corn he’d hoped to grow, before it went to ground.
She watched him through the screen and opening the door,
she smiled faintly in return, as she kissed him on the cheek
and wiped away a telling streak from the season of the dry.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Good Grief - Where Am I?

For a brief moment while reading the following story I thought I was in Egypt or in some banana republic somewhere. Where do we get these guys?

Wednesday, January 29, 2014


There was a report yesterday in a column by Nicole Flatow about a teacher in Louisiana who ridiculed a Buddhist student saying those who do not believe in God are stupid.

The child’s parents reported the incident and supposedly the superintendent of schools told them, “this is the bible belt” and suggested the child either change his faith or move to another school where “there are more Asians.”

The superintendent apparently agrees with the teacher who told her 6th grade class that evolution is impossible and the bible is “one-hundred percent true.”

What we do know from this story is that devolution is possible.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Maybe it's Like This

So here we are in the first month of the New Year. The celebrations are over and the resolutions made and we are back to work or school. Where do we as a spiritual collective community in human form go from here?

I have an thought. It’s not the only answer, but one that seems as good as any other.

I  think that we continue to create what we call life experiences so that we can individually and collectively move toward total unity with the Divine.

My conclusion is drawn from nature. The other day I watched a swirling snow shower with each individual flake dancing with and within the wind and eventually settling into a collective ground blanket of crystalline white.

Once settled onto the earth all the snow appeared to be one covering, yet comprised of individual flakes linked together in a batten of white. In time each flake will melt into the oneness of water only to be used or evaporated into moist creation  at another time and place.

The flakes reminded me of our souls, our spirits dancing with physical life. In time each soul passes and returns to the oneness of the Divine and from there some beliefs posit we reincarnate into another life over and over until we fully embrace the Divinity within the self and return to the Source.

Each of us living on earth, nearly seven billion of us are the individuations of the indivisible. 

Once we see, that within the frailty of human thought, we are really “ONE,” we will have peace.

Monday, January 27, 2014

Letting Go

The past is where memories dwell. The future is where dreams manifest. NOW, however, is where we live in the moment of being and it’s where our attention and intention should concentrate.

I wrote the following a few years ago and recently adjusted it, but it seems to fit my mood on this morning.

Letting Go

Letting go is often fearful
To the mind that sets a limit.
See not a box nor boundary
Lest you find yourself within it.

Be the freedom of your spirit
As it transcends the ego’s greed.
Trust your heart and its connection
To Source within that won’t mislead.

To follow true your creation
Reprise God’s love from long ago.

A gift bequest from All That Is,
As truth above, a truth below.
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