Three-layered bank of fog.
Hills, mountains, Cascades
hover on the Sound,
a soft, stealthy cat guarding its treasure,
halfway between our shore and the sand spit.
Funny,
how just every now and then,
the wind mists move ever so slightly,
allowing – no, supporting—
the surprised and astonished pines
that peek out
between the long pause,
to say “Good morning!” to the day,
to say, “Welcome!” to this New Year.
For years I tried to be someone I was not. Then, a crisis, and then I worked, I prayed, I went in deep into my heart. I met teachers, and met The Teacher in myself. I opened to Mystery, sought and called forth Source, and found that Spirit moves through me, through us all. I wrought a work of Giving and became generous, honed, still, fashioned myself to serve, through time. The more I grew the more I learned to be humble, and to be at peace. “I am still learning,” says the Artist from the Ancient Well of Spirit…
Imagine yourself a leaf, being carried by the river. There, you will know Peace. Imagine yourself a feather being danced by the wind that carries. There you will know Joy. Imagine yourself a lake, rained on by the clouds There, you will know Fullness. Imagine yourself a stream, being a bed for the salmon. There you will know Birth and Death. Imagine yourself an ear, listening to another’s heart. There, you will meet Compassion. Imagine yourself a heron, fishing the abundant water. There, you will be Patience. Imagine yourself as a poet, facing the blank, white page. There, you will…
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