A reincarnation of my ideas, my creativity, and my intellect into becoming an indwelling human being.

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land…

I love the ease of their full throated laughter. I strive to be an old woman such as these.

Balance is a fleeting thing…

I have known with certainty that something interior can appear to be exterior, and that something exterior can appear to be interior.

Tap into this…

Reclaiming the cosmic image.

The dancers themselves dance for us all.  They unwind the certainty of our endeavours.  They turn willingly though not naively toward the dark.

Surely, we have individual souls, but, the tribal soul has us.

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom…

Even at the summit of Mt. Sinai, there is a Voice in the clouds, in the burning bush, in the tongues of fire.

Love consists in this…

We get glimpses of this other dwelling in our dreams, in our reveries, in our walks in the wintry woods.

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

How do we meet the archetype of the wise old man and receive his blessing?

Alignment to an emergent field.

I resolve to reach up, to reach higher, to reach farther. 

The sweet spot…

Deep in our soul we know these monsters exist. The ritual parade and Krampus events touch it and contain it.

Why is it that those with so little offer so much? How is it that the gift giver is honoured more than the gift? When is it that the feast that is not part of your religion or culture is still celebrated with respect for the other? Where is the stranger the guest and something deeper and more eternal is touched regardless of differences and maybe even because of them?