I’m about to confess something.

I have habits.

Oh, I mean everybody does, but in the course of my life I have developed some habits. I sometimes fall short of them and get off track for a few days, but eventually I come back to them.

I have a habit of taking walks. Walks clear my mind, help me remember who I am. I talk to my Creator when I walk, talk about whatever enters my mind. Sometimes I just think, but I always come back feeling better than before I left. When it is warm, I often pull my shoes off and walk barefoot across open fields and country roads. I love the feel of earth under my feet. It’s a connected feeling. I just meander and see what comes up, like turtles at the pond, and see what lands, like cranes or wild geese. There is no therapy better than a walk.

I have a habit of doing physical things. I like to walk and hike and garden. I love to train in kung fu. I love to build things and make things.

I have a habit of creativity. I can never stop designing…curriculums, paintings, projects. I am always writing and thinking about writing and playing music. Creativity flows out of me. It’s not an effort, but it is a habit, and I’m highly addicted to it, so much so that I’m not even a little bit ashamed of it. I am openly a creative-addict. If I’m restricted and not allowed to create I become antsy and snippy…agitated. I was created to create.

I have a habit of quiet time. I need it, everyday. People always ask me where I get my energy. I get it from the quiet times. I get it from moments when I am allowed to re-center myself, to remember to keep the main things, the main things.

Those are a few of my favorite habits.




Not Unworthy

If I could wash the blood stripes


from your toddler days


I would wipe them away.


If I could purge “fat kid”


from your memory


I would make it so.


And the demons? 


I’d banish them


to desolation.


If I had the power


I would free your mother


from bondage to neediness


and your father from slavery,


but all I can do now is say,


I believe you are


a Phoenix.





Early Morning Existential Thoughts

It’s 5a.m.

I’ve been up an hour already…just thinking.

I do that sometimes, just wake up with a head full of noisy thoughts that scream so loudly that I can no longer sleep.

Thoughts of family, and friends, and of eternal things.

Lately, I’ve been feeling kind of invisible and to some, I suppose I am. But in the long run, we all become invisible to the frivolous nature of this present world system which places value only on the external things. However, I am not, nor shall I ever be invisible to those who truly see through spirit eyes, who do not look at the house but at the being inside it.

My daddy used to tell me that it doesn’t matter what people say about us, it only matters what God says. I think he’s right except I would add one thing. It also matters what I think about me, what you think about you. In Proverbs, Solomon said that as man thinks in his heart, so is he. That, of course, is referring to a human being of either gender. I hate it when people ask me how old I am or how much I weigh or how tall I am or what size clothes I wear, because none of those things have anything at all to do with ME! They are just devises to color another’s perception of me. I love it when people ask me things like, “What are you passionate about?” About poetry and writing, about music and martial arts, about teaching. I love these questions because then I feel that someone actually cares about seeing me, instead of basing my value on some frivolous and temporal concept.

I have news for those who haven’t discovered it yet. Age is nothing more than the amount of years you’ve been on this earth. Whether you are 19 or 99, you’re still the same spirit you’ve always been. Height, weight, and genetics are equivalent to wether you live in a brick house or a mobile home as far as spirit things go. Meaning they don’t matter. Spirits know spirits by kinship, not temporal illusions. I have met people of various physical descriptions, both in real life and online with whom I had an immediate connection that defied all the physical factors. When I look at another person I don’t know them so much by how they appear but by their “nature” or “turn” as my dad would say. My mom used to say, “pretty is as pretty does.” She meant that physical beauty had no value to her in a person, but rather character. So, I could much more easily be with a person this world has deemed “ugly” yet is compassionate than be with one the world labels beautiful who is shallow, self-centered and vain.

Having said all those things, I will say, however, that the more time I spend in this Shadow Land, the less value I place on what others think of me. We each have our own journey and while those who have been here longer may have  picked up some valuable advice, I believe it’s important to remember that we each must walk our own road. Perhaps, it is a great tragedy that so many spend so much of their lives looking for that person who “completes” them. I don’t believe there “is” a perfect person for each of us, because I believe that the only person who can make me happy, is me, and no matter how close I become to another person, when that day comes for me to leave this mortal house, I will go out of this world taking with me nothing but the love I gave away and the lessons I’ve learned.

So, as Solomon said once again, everything that is of this world is vanity. It is passing away. And, as Jesus once advised, I want to lay my treasures up in eternity. These treasures are stored up by being compassionate, forgiving, merciful, full of integrity, by treating others with the same respect we long to receive ourselves.



I find my strength in quietness,

in waiting, observing, listening

to the voice of the One Great Spirit

as He speaks through wind in grass,

through cicadas in locust trees,

through falling yellow leaves of walnut trees

who find ending of summer too hot

and decide to shed their clothing.

He speaks to me through the salamander

black and yellow spotted, darting under mud

through algae floating in tiny green triads

and pears lying beneath their mother

through apples

crashing branches

flaunting their scent.

When I am invisible to men

inaudible to women

HE still speaks to me and something leaps within…

there is no greater sound.

*my computer is down so I’m reposting, via my phone, an old post that speaks my heart.