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From the Pacific to the Great Lakes

jeannes little books 126

Serendipity finds the touch ancient familiar

Even in the not having made skin to skin

The familiar holds the magi’s stone vibrating

A long ago gives call to natures rising touch


There is no matter in how it goes or doesn’t

Way past that portal in the Awakening soul

There is a beyond yet seen by this mortal

For Earth’s call to life holds that mystery


And in the still of wondering of your vast Pacific

The shore that tides your here and now

The fresh lakes wrap around my mitten

Where the seasons beach upon my shores


Maybe touch will find us in the winter of our years

Or hold us up to the Light’s fantastic radiance

In the meet again of what we have always known

Holy is the wholeness or our wander here


Destiny lurks between our shores


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Filed under AGING, ANN ARBOR, BE HERE NOW, GRATITUDE, home, LOVE, michigan

Dease Lake Avalon


We three gather for this year at ‘The Dease’; old friends united forever in heart and kinship.  Sharing old joys and heartaches, letting ‘the now’ fills us up with unabashed laughter and gin, good food and new stories.  There is immediacy in our knowing and care for each other, that spans before and after eternity.  Differences lost to our sameness in the forever after.  Old ‘broads’ letting it rip like school girls crushed out in the drool of want and hunger.  Captured in memories moments for a little while, letting the wisdom of decades giggle us to the ‘Can you BElieve that shit?”


I bring my ‘Dear One’s to ‘The Dease’, to share it.  This place wrapped in sunrises and coral evenings, the shelter of Oaks, the fog off the lake, the call of Loons, the easy float of an eagle, the quiet;  A heart place for all my seasons, a gift of my family’s love sharing.   Here,  all that is stretched and pulled off from me in the pulse of life’s work and stress, melt with the morning fog to rise up to this northern heaven, released.  Free to let the breath and heart know natures giving, and taking.


Words are a vehicle to speak to sights, sounds, and smells of sensorial experiences.  And, in this place of spiritual abundance, this place I call ‘The Dease’, there are not enough splendid words to express the gift of it to my souls pleasure in the wonder and wander of it all.  This little parcel of land and lake that I think I know intimately and yet it keeps it’s secrets like ‘The Lady of the Lake’ , she who rises up with sword in hand, with a gift to open the magic to Dease Lake Avalon.


The great thing is, is that I get to make up my own magic in the truth of it as I make it so.  Knowing all that is ever needed to be known, as the magic and mystery gives in ‘the letting it be so’, right here on Dease Lake, my own little Avalon, celebrating with my Dear Ones.





Filed under home, LOVE, MAGICAL THINKING, michigan, NATURE, north dease lake, SPIRITUAL

the way it was when it was someone else’s way it was


Beat’s and rhythms, all those places

All those places in the changing structure

Of the places I’ve been in the steady

heart beat of that steady heart beat

that kept me alive through some of

those suspicious places structured

to drive my baby girl self away

from myself.


They were not my stories


Other people’s stories playing out

in those moving places that left

the structure of things haphazard

aches, Those kind of aches that belonged

to someone else that melted like

glaziers in the pretty blue of a sky

falling, falling beneath the deep.

Other people’s stories drowning

us all in their forever after


They were not my stories


Blame it on the way it was

In circumstances bereft with

hearts that gathered in another

‘way it was’ to a beat and rhythm

at another place under another

roof in another time dragged to

wretch my time, in that place of home

haunted by someone else’s history


My history was yet to be made


What child wins on someone else’s way

to being the self imposed on by other?

In the seething quiet of life hidden

in that failed structured place

of make believe going down the path

of a discarnate truth that gets to

play out all that shit again in some

someday to come in that poorly laid

structured place called home


I am not my history


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