Excerpt: "This was truly a project to discover my limits, determine whether or not I am really a writer and speaker and photographer, to determine whether or not I am a creative.

I am!

And in the process I have watched as this project has helped create the foundation of something that is rising from the beauty of ashes, following a familiar story line of being broken down and reshaped to be a more open, expansive, wise, beautiful, loving vessel…over and over and over."

Excerpt: “ Each morning, I carve out time for a walk in the Boise foothills between morning routines with our kids and work. Over the past couple of years, I have walked these trails almost every day. It’s a ritual. And one I look forward to and bask in while performing it.”

Excerpt: "The thing
about bridges
is that they are
in between places."

She drinks to remember that she is not the job she is doing. That she is not just the job she is doing. Near the bottom of each bottle, she finds possibilities and promise.She drinks a little more to remember that it’s okay. And a bit more to remember that it will be okay.That the way it looks right now is not the way it really is or was or will be.A drink or three free her from the boundaries of her mind.Tomorrow, it will take a little more to remember a little less.Perhaps there is another way. He scrolls

Excerpt: "Now that I am steadily advancing with my easing-into-vocational-life plan, I am finding interesting fears showing up here and there."

Excerpt: "In no time, what looked like a barren landscape, what looked like the same thing for mile after mile, what looked uninhabited and uninteresting, changes almost instantly the moment you hear your footsteps on the ground, feel the the wind whirring about you, and find your eyes lose their focus while the whole body and mind get swept up into something so grand and old and mysterious that there isn’t anything happening anywhere else."

Excerpt: "The beauty has come from the ashes.

The beauty is coming from the ashes.

The beauty has come from what is no longer there, from the space that the fire created.

A clearing.

Space to be.

Space to be together."

Excerpt: "ome days it’s I’ve got it all together.
Other days it’s more trying to hold onto and pick up what’s falling apart.
Some days feel easy and clear.
Other days feel uphill and cloudy."

Excerpt: "It wasn’t until recovering from my brain injuries that I learned and experienced that every “thing” arises with its opposite. It’s commonly referred to as the Law of Opposites. But I had no idea that this existed and, for the first 38 or so years of my life, I operated under the assumption that I could get the “thing” I wanted and avoid its opposite altogether.

I tried to isolate the enjoyment and happiness of the process from the feelings of sadness and loss that naturally come with finishing the project.

I tried to move from one stage of life into the other without completing the former.

So much of the past 8 years has been learning how to be with life as it is as I am."

Excerpt: "My attempt to find something to disrupt my peace was like riding a bike with a chain that keeps slipping when the gears are stripped, or trying to tighten a nut on a bolt whose threads are almost bare, or attempting to get a rear-wheel drive car to go up a steep hill on a solid sheet of ice.

As soon as I tried to put my mind in gear, as soon as I attempted to apply some pressure, as soon as I tried to get somewhere else, it was as if the chain of reactivity slipped, the nut-i-ness of the mind lost its ability to hold, and the wheels of machinating completely and utterly spun out.

So I was left to just be here, now."

Excerpt: "Here we are. Here I am. 90. 90 consecutive days of reflecting, writing, publishing, and podcasting. I began with a commitment of 30 days, then decided to go for 60, and then 90.

I’ve never even written in my personal journal for 90 days in a row, let alone a published, public-facing composition and podcast, each accompanied by relevant and intentionally chosen photographs from my own collection.

Wow.

We are in the season of graduations and ceremonies and the end of school years and so I am taking time this evening to really celebrate this accomplishment and the conclusion and fulfillment of an intense commitment of time and energy.

Wow."

I’ve committed to listening and reflecting and writing each day. Tonight, I find myself some where beyond the place where words can originate or return, some time before words begin. It is gentle and quiet in Here.And full. Full filled. Overflowing. There is gratitude here. Deep, deep and expansive gratitude. There is also sadness connected to the endings of classes and vibrant communities that have been born and grown during this semester. I am amazed at the awakening of this generation. Something profound is happening in our world and I think I will be alive long enough to see it

When I wake in the middle of the night and the veil is thin, my heart remembers what matters most and the rest of “it” becomes like vapor quickly and completely blowing away with the slightest breeze - even with no breeze. There is a sense of clarity that I imagine also comes when one faces their last moments and is immanently faced with the forced and total letting go of all they grasped that cannot be held.What remains?Love.I have come to experience these night wakings as gifts that have followed me all of my life. In them, my guides

Juicy Wormsthe quickest wayto return Homeis to waitfor the next cravingand instead of chasing the worm on thathookdon’t takethe baitlet the craving be the reminder to waitto watchto feelto listento senseto knowwhat lies beneath the juicy worm: barbs lines draggings jerkings pullings away from Homethe rewards ofmindless abandonment to cravingdon’t waituntil gaspings for airand a whack to the head to stop the flopping to rememberthat worms are gooda n dthey don’t all come with hooksthe surest wayto stayHomeis to just waitfor the next cravingand instead of chasing the worm on thathookdon’t takethe baitwaitwatchfeellistensenseknowand then enjoy the juicy wormthat will not

As a kid growing up on our farm, one of my favorite things to do was to find places of refuge from the wind and elements. Since it was windy almost all of the time where we lived, I had plenty of opportunities to enjoy this pastime. Our straw stacks next to the corrals were particularly well-suited since there were small spaces between the stacks you could crawl into and be completely protected.Immediately, I would notice the silence and stillness of the air in the absence of the wind.The sensation was very much like entering another world.A quiet, safe, secure,

A good friend is visiting and during our time in the pitch black darkness and heat of the sweat lodge tonight, we found our way to the topic of creating for the sake of creating - perhaps the topic found us. Our friend has spent a lifetime following his heart and finding a way to make a living at it. It hasn’t been easy. It has actually been crazy hard, quite complicated sometimes, and required sacrifice most of the time. Yet, there isn’t an ounce of regret in his voice when he talks about choosing to live life following his

The Space to BeWhat is needed?to feel seento feel heardto feel connected to feel a sense of Be-long-ingthe rest followsYesrest followsandThe Rest followsthe space to Beto feel seento feel heardto feel connectedto feel a sense of Be-long-ingsome call it unconditional loveandwelcoming acceptancethe sense of Be-ingh e l d inintense p r e s e n c eto feel seento feel heardto feel connected to feel a sense of Be-long-ingto offer such p r e s e n c eto our Selvesand to each otherto each otherwith each otherwith each other Onewith each other One that is as I Amis what

Passing Through What Is Still That which comes goesThat which arises falls awayPassing through what is stillGive it 30 secondsof undivided attentionLet thoughts come and goAnd watchAnd feelAnd acknowledge it as it isAnd accept it as it isAnd watch and feel some moreLet go of labelsLet them comeAnd let them goThat which comes goesThat which arises falls awayPassing through what is stillNot buying it?Wake before dawnSet your eyes upon the eastAnd watchAnd feelAnd acknowledge it as it isAnd accept it as it isAnd watch and feel some moreAnd just to make sureFind your way to near-duskAnd set your eyes to

Raising Us they say we raise our children but i say we raise each other and that many times like today it feels to me like our children are raising us to higher levels greater good deeper love wiser action some backstory yesterday evening we were eating ice cream on the stoop and a text comes in and she says yes to her first job and promptly has to figure out how much do i charge? as much as i can get? as much as they are able? a fair price according to such and such? i say, what’s the

Clutter where I grew up skies are big the foreground is small the horizons are vast and the only times away from home that ever felt like this part of home were the many times looking west into the ocean while leaning against the end rails of Pacific piers and thanking God that there was nothing to see but seeing every once in awhile even where i now live i leave the valley and find my way south and west enough that i can see the seeing and be with out clutter i suppose this is what writing poems is