Departing from the day’s conflict,

ears aching from the words

of complicit derision.

Enfolding my tired shoulders

in my sister’s gifted linen shawl,

I exit the workday.

Emerging in the love of dusk,

her freshly washed trees of many colors

bathe my soul.

Her birds of light and grace

sweep away the dirt of judgment


her comfort creeps around me,

gently muting the human harshness.

My soul sighs in relief

as I accept the peace

of the fog.




Hardware Store Candy

“Who wants to go to the hardware store with me?” Silence. Poor dad . . . he loved the hardware store, and it seems he was always going there, and there was always a recruit companion, however reluctant. The youngest of five, with no brothers left in the home and no father in his life, dad was granted four daughters. Even our dog was female. Dad, however, was born with an enormous heart, and an ability to make the best of life’s circumstances, so we were ahead of our time, raised with nil gender bias. There were no “princesses” in our house. He expected us to get up, show up, be humble, be real, do our job, and expect to be handed nothing. As I waited for the cashier at my local hardware store this morning, I heard dad’s infamous whistling, and sensed his never-to-go-unnoticed presence. I felt his big strong hand take my small one, massaging it like he always did, and I smelled the faint scent of Old Spice Aftershave lingering. Years passed in seconds, and I blinked, only to notice the rows of hardware store candy (Neccos, Bit-o-Honey, Sugar Babies, etc.), and it hit me that the hardware store was likely the source for the treats we would find waiting for us next to his wallet and keys when he had been gone on a trip or away for the evening. #Fatherhood #The Hardware Store #Keeping it all together for his family


Last night I had a dream that we woke to darkness, and people spilled from their homes, and there was no difference between the millionaire and the homeless man. I took my light to the mountains to find a boulder so I could place my face against the cool stone and feel the earth’s energy, as I’d done so many times before, and found the stone hot.


If right at this moment I had to leave, and only had a few minutes to give my children a few parting thoughts . . . well, my mind would be swimming as all the things I want them to know would be screaming for air time. I would silence them though, because time is of the essence. My loves, only the Greatest Love knows the heart of a mother. The closest love I have ever felt to the love for my children, is the love I’ve felt from the God I know. It is an indescribably powerful force that holds an energy beyond this world. I first felt it when I was about twenty, alone in a hospital room with a small Native American girl from Chinle, Arizona. She was separated from her family, and alone in the hospital, and scared. We were talking about feeling alone, and she began to tell me about a vision she had, and in that moment the room we were in erupted in buzzing which I initially thought was auditory, but then realized it was not, and then I thought it was kinetic, and realized it was not, and gradually I realized there was no word for the sense we were experiencing the energy with, and she and I gazed at each other with eyes wide and peaceful. I thought to myself, “Please don’t ever let me forget this,” as I knew it was a very rare gift of the glimpse of a power greater than we could fathom, and that it would strengthen us later in our journeys. I would say to my children that my love for them is that love, and ask that they carry it with them into the world, whatever they do, and that they remember how fragile life is, and how sentient life is so dynamic, fluid, and beautifully, tenderly, sadly, joyously, tragically, interdependent. I would ask that they not spend too much of their lives trying to be in control, but that they learn to live in every moment, and to not take more than they need; to love above all else, and to seek truth, and to question every rule, norm, and institution in the name of love. To revere and respect the power of God, however they understand that which has no name but what we give it, and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that proof of all that is good and holy is around them in many forms, throughout every day, and they must acknowledge it when it makes itself known to them. Be aware, not desperately seeking, but gently and fully aware, and trust that all is well. Be good to yourself, and to those you love, and seek to do good in whatever way comes to you through who you are. To my son I would say, “If you have a family, work hard every moment to love them through your labor, deeds, words, and teachings. Put your love into your children and their mother, unrelenting. They aren’t your possessions, but your gifts, and you must give them strength for life.” To my girls, I would say, be strong and trust your heart. Let no one bury your light, and let no one bind the love that burns from the depth of your core. Try not to be anxious or worry, but to be aware and receptive to what your moments bring. To my children, please love one another and watch over each other, and know that my love is in your core and the cells of your body and essence of your soul, and that all is well. Live simply, strong, lovingly, and without pretense. Seek truth and see beauty everywhere. Laugh, love, and enjoy the gifts of life. Guard and protect one another. Lift each other up. Be gentle and kind to yourself. Love your own soul, so you can love others, and let no one tell you who you are and what you should be, or do, or stand for.

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