Monthly Archives: January 2013



The weather drives like a school bus

Big and yellow, formidably containing

It’s little treasures of sun and snow

All busy in flurries and sunshine chatter

On the way to educational elemental experiences

that change with every volatile bump

On the road to knowledge

There’s talk of the weather here and there

In global contrasts and agreements

Hoping to figure it all out with nature

And God and the people who want to fix it

Try to fix the weather in a school bus

Filled with every season in the storm and calm

In the capricious shift and change within us all

Like today; frigid, bitter wind, and snowy

Yesterday was sporting 55 and pouring rain

There’s days like that, minutes like that

In the seasonal thrust of living like you mean it

In the variable experience  of your expressed weather

When the forecast was sunny, hot, and humid

When the truth storms out in a tidal wave

The weather will drive you like a school bus

Whether you’re passenger, driver, or watching

It drive by from almost to the bus stop.

Whether you like it or not on any given day

You have weather choices to make inside

Let the outside take care of itself.

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This poem is a prompt from the lovely Jill Badonsky, my creativity coach teacher.

She asked that we pick an event in our lives and let it find it’s importance in a prose, poetic, sorta way.

This was a very significant event in my life.  It lead to the first most embarrassing experience of my life.  I have had a few…

This was fun to write this morning.  It just sorta fell outta me. I hope you enjoy it.

Me  1956 pink dress blk n white


On more Rah Rah and a sky high cheerleader jump

To Earth was my skirt round my feet in a slump

White cotton girls slip and white round collar blouse

Imprisoned am I in the brown plaid serpent of the gym house


300 hundred, a thousand, a million eyes all on me

Standing there in silence with my skirt  past my knees

The sixth grade basket ball game came to a screeching halt

For me in slow motion trying to figure how to get out


Of standing in the center of this gym floor all alone

With a million, gaggilion people staring at my little girl bones

The silence was deafening, my horror was bold

When the crowd in the bleacher stood with their cheers in a loud roll


All over my body the roar trembled from head to feet

The cheering and laughing closed in to my narrowing defeat

I shivered and quivered and grabbed at that snake

Quietly laying round my feet so damn sedate


It hissed and shimmied and gave in with relent

Only to meet at my knees as I shuffled and went

Past the crowd cross that shiny miles of gym floor

Desperate to get to that far away exit door


The family, the friends the entire school had come

To witness the joy of this small town’s homecoming fun

And me with my Rah and cheer a snake at my feet

Embarrassed beyond whether the boys won or got beat


Trembling beyond anything I had ever known

Huddled by the door with the millions and feeling alone

All eyes were on me now what was I at last to do

They’d all stopped their cheering afraid for my boo hoo


From somewhere deep inside me I certainly don’t know

A riotous laughter was bubbling and ready to show

Before all these people, before I had any clue

Out of my mouth loud laughter it flew


A little hysteria, maybe a little ingenue

It was funny, ridiculous, I had no boo hoo

The crowd joined me in laughter and wowed me  sublime

The sixth grade boys wouldn’t forgive me for taking their time


Selfish boys they do that cause they must

I was the center of the that homecoming fuss

My cheerleading ways they ended that day

It wasn’t the path for my bohemian way


Girls like me didn’t take to the cheerleading cheer

My joy was exulted in my journey for there to here

Many a Rah, a cheer, and a hoot tootie toot toot

I’m friends with that serpent that laid my skirt to my boots

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Aaah… well the weirdness with the weather continues.  Record high temp  in Jackson, MI. 59.  wwwwooooo.  And it’s raining hard here at almost 40.  By thursday it will be 25, snowing, with a windchill that will freeze the hairs in your nose.

Nature wins.

My personal weather report:  mellow, a rumble in the tummy, my knee is an annoyance, sippy the coffee, like the sound of rain hitting the roof, made an event page for an art show in my salon in Feb., sitting here with you, letting the weirdness of weather, knee pain, and global madness not interact with my goodness quotient.  Be Here Now.


Whether the weather wishes to wind you

In whirls of worry with world wide weather

Why not will the wonderful of no worry at all?


Change your choice and chide away confusion

Conflict as a choice causes constant self criticism

Choose confections that celebrate co-creation


The weather you will within your self wisdom

Can create copious continual celebratory choices

Why would we will woeful wishes when we want world wide well-being?



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MIDNIGHT BLOOM…a poem for Jackie

Happy Birthday Jackie.  I still hold you in my heart as family.  Joy and wonder, and peace to you..

This photo is of one of Jackie’s watercolours.  Beautiful.




Petal white soft to heart in the midnight hours

Blooms with pages that hold to stories told

With shared create we remember always

The tender of friendship that we hold


To paper we give our lyrics

In colors that bare our souls

We open pure in the art of giving

To speak from our hearts that unfold


Time has no time in what is always

Flowers give because they must

White soft bloom in the midnight hour

Friendship goes beyond the ash of us




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I was asked by one of my online teachers, Christine, from Abbey of the Arts, to consider a word to dedicate to this year.  A word that might embrace a feeling I have, or need to deepen in.  A word that might challenge me, or call me out to me to pay attention to.  A word that gives play and intention to my daily practice of breathing and Being Here Now.

For me, it was about what calls to me, to ‘own’ in my daily journey, to remind me of what will bring me ‘home’.  Tho’ I do believe I am already ‘home’ at the deepest heart of myself, I don’t always have a sense of that in the busy of the world around and within me.  Living is such a distraction and all of you are so interesting.

I chose the word,  ‘Stillness’.  Maybe it chose me.  What I can tell you about the feeling that rises for me when I think of stillness, is how hard it feels to embrace it.  I have lots of wonderful idea about what ‘stillness’ is and how important it feels to be in my life.   I can think myself in and out of stillness very adeptly.

Winter stillness goes like this….  It looks like an entire forest ladened with snowy branches and hardly a track on the snow covered carpet.   It tastes like a lick laid down on the heavy snow that bears down a pine branch.   It feels like me laying down on that carpet of a gagillion snowflakes and making an angel in slow motion.  All of it rests in my thinking about it, imagining what that quiet ‘stillness’ might be.

Can I be still, undisturbed, calm, tranquil?  Good Lord, why did I pick ‘stillness’?  Choice can be changed.  I tried, sort of.     Some stubborn, tenacious part of me refused to make another choice.  Stick with that word, ‘stillness’, see where it lead you. See what comes up for 365 days of absorbing what it is or isn’t.  Maybe, find the stillness that connects me deeper to my spiritual journey.  Ok Ok… Alright already.  Stillness it is.

snow angel


Stillness calls for my stewardship

Tells of times once remembered

In the ever beat of my heart’s desire

Longing to live in peaceful countenance

Listening deep beyond the idle chatter

Nearing my quest for home remembering

Ever present when I give myself to quietude

Simple in the ever presence of breathing

Stillness gives it watch over me


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My first visit in Cyberspace this morning was to a blog that I enjoy by a young woman named Bella.   This is actually her brand new blog.  It’s significantly different from her previous blog and still she is a woman that is full of heart and she brings that into her new blog.

What she reminded me of for my first filling up with thoughts and feeling this morning is, keeping an Open Heart.  Not new information, or something I don’t consider daily, more that she is another touch stone for that remembering to move through life with an Open Heart.    As well as to allow in the experience of creating a loving, positive, joyful life in the good ol’ Be Here Now.  Ya’ll know how I love my Be here Now.

Imagine your life an endless wonder of creative force that you allow to move through and with you?  Limited only by our thoughts.  Certainly, physical limitation may curtail some of that physical creative force, and a heart open and mind centered on positive reality, considering always the ‘highest good’, still has the ability to maintain and hold great joy and incredible body/mind/spirit well being.

So, when I write all the things that roll out of me here on these pages, it is my way of remembering who I really am and have always been.  “I am a spiritual being having a human experience.”  And, I get to choose how to have that no matter the physical consequence of my being here.  I choose Love, being challenged every day to see if I really mean it.

Right now IS all there is.    I choose Love over fear.

Choose me...

All thoughts matter in the matter of things; in the manifestation of everything

you see is a thought and your eyes behold it.

Look around at all the creations that someone thought up and now you either use it,

or want it, or feast your eyes on it’s incredibleness.

There is no mystery to the choice of seeing beauty to the choice of holding pain

Choice is endless and abundant.

Even in the choices that struggle for the feel good to wrap yourself around

Another choice opens to a new set of choice and so on

As you find your way to your heart’s opening and strip away the negative container

That you made up in some choice in the long ago to hold you

Scrap that negative thinking and fear of what isn’t and might be in the later on.

Give it up to the wind or, the sea, or to Source, or to the fire to burn it away.

This moment holds your highest and greatest good. Here … NOw.




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With the bitter cold comes a bitter cold.  Stormed on in to my body battering all my edges and forming a tunnel of attractive snot in, around, and through my face, and ears and… Rest.  Rest.  Letting it have it’s course, treating it with tea and ginger, Chicken soup, AirBorn, and more of all of that.


Batten down the hatches mates. Check the supplies

The storm, she be a raging and that ain’t no lie

She thinks she gonna take ya.

She thinks yer gonna die

Batten down those hatches mates

If ya wanna stay alive


She’s a wicked little bitch, she is, raging her stormy sea

Bringing in the drownin’ waves where ever you may be

She be pourin’ through your senses

She be pullin’ you to your knees

She’s a wicked little bitch, she is

She got a wicked hold on me


Let no offense be taken. It’s what she can’t help to be

This wicked little storm bitch owns the deep blue sea

She shares her angry moments

She goes viral for a gift to thee

Give no offense my maties

Fill up on vitamin ‘C’




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A MOMMY TALE… Happy Birthday Mom

Happy Birthday Momma.  She would have been 97 today.  wow.  I will always miss my momma.



I was 14, awkward and a floppy teenager.  You know the kind;  sure we’re right, and giddy most of the time, flopping on the couch bemoaning the affairs of school and friends, always saying.  “Oh Mom.” extending the drawn of the ‘o’ in the whine.

My mother was patient.  Doing her best to keep hearth and home stable for my brother and I. She worked as a secretary at the University to keep food on the table.  She was a cute, sassy lady.  She was always a lady cause that’s what her generation of women tended to be that came from educated backgrounds.

It was a Saturday night, I was babysitting for the neighbor boy in the apartment next to ours.  Mom had a date.  She had never had a date that I knew of so this was a big deal to me, and I image in forethought it was for her too.  It was all about me wasn’t it?

He was  a professor at the university and she was quietly excited about it; consulting me on what she’d wear.  I failed to see him come and pick her up because of my babysitting, which cause me all kinds of duress through out the evening.  I wanted to see this old guy that was taking my mother to the movies and dinner.  I wanted to lay my eyes on him and make my own teenage assessment.

My ears were attuned to every little sound emanating from our apartment building; waiting to hear the door downstairs open and my mother would return with some story to tell me.  It was just gone  9pm, when I heard voices and knew she was home.  I cracked the door to hear what was being said only to hear giggles and mumbles which made my heart a little racy.

I did hear his good bye and the door close.  I then stood at the top of the stairs waiting for my mother to come up.  First came her shoe; a little beige pump that landed on the first landing coming up, followed by a giggle.  I felt shocked and said, “MOM!”.  That was when the second shoe came flying up, landing on the top stair in front of my feet.

“Mom!”, I say, “What are You doing?”  She gives no reply.

By this time she’s at the top of the first landing making her slow steps up to me.  Her eyes are all glittery and mischievous.  Her closed mouth looks odd and ready to pop open as she gets to the two steps just below me.  I’m shaking my head and hoping she’ll tell me what in the world is going on, when she gives me this grin that looks like her teeth are bright orange.  And with this exhale of laughter a slice of orange flies out of her mouth and hits me in the chest falling to my feet.

I am stunned.  She is laughing hysterically at me, and I’m standing there mouth open and eyes like saucers wondering what the hell just happened.  Who is this woman in front me?  What happened to my mother?

I think for a moment I was frightened.  As fun and playful as my mother was, she didn’t act like this.  She had left the house kind of nervously excited and seemingly calm and returns insane.  I was speechless momentarily till she gave me a big hug, and I started to breathe again.

Mom had had a really good time.

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I am Pine.  I have a deep bed of my birthing at my roots, a couching of the fruits of my living,  laid to the Earth one on top of the other, on top of the other giving back to the land.  A loom of feed, a dark mulch to the land that holds the moist to my roots.  My cone of seed to find genesis.

I would be in silence and perfect stillness were it not for the tumble of the wind through my branches and the Sun pulling my green to my surfaces, and rain that shimmies through the bed of my children to my roots.  I grip the land with the gentle weave of my roots ever busy drawing up and in the taste of rock and soil.

My stillness is deceiving to my sensory vitality.  What is seen hides the unseen.  Were not the forest for it’s trees.  Not for the forest family that nibbles at my bark, or builds a fortress among my branches for me to hold the sacred birth of freedoms flight, or the protection from the surface bullies hunt, and hungry needs of what takes to give back to the cycle to life.

I Am.  Rooted here, vulnerable to the seasons in their elemental cacophony of mood swings and tumultuous whims.  The giving and taking of what feeds me lays to my branches and finds my roots for my reaching and pulling in.  Everyday holds a give and take in the mingle of roots to dirt, roots to neighbors in the family of forest keeping.  Roots to the land that is my becoming to this stewardship; busy nurturing from roots to sky.







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Wrap my loved one in healing light

Chant her songs of cherished delights

Nourish her land with the mulch of my heart

Every moment I begin at the start


I sing love songs across her land

Imagine great goodness to flow hand to hand

For the Highest good her greatest power

That her land blooms with fields of flowers


I wrap my loved one In healing light

Seeing her whole, well, and with a long life

We have lots of joy and play left in us to do

There are some thing that don’t belong in life’ stew


I light all my candles on my altar to you

My dear loved one some laughs are there too

Cause we’ll be doing some giggling and some big hahahas

The best medicine I know for the poopy blahs.








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