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“Cozy”

I sip in stillness

tea’s rare silent solitude

sweet, deep reverie

****

“Swift Transition”

Ev’ryone comes back!

reverie? no! upheaval

now, where was I, tea?

****

“GAH! (epilogue)”

sinking in too late

how did it and I become

so noisy, my fate

**blessed,

grateful **

“After a long and arduous journey a young Japanese man arrived deep in a forest where the teacher of his choice was living in a small house he had made. When the student arrived, the teacher was sweeping up fallen leaves.  Greeting his master, the young man received no greeting in return.  And to all his questions, there were no replies.  Realizing there was nothing he could do to get the teacher’s attention, the student went to another part of the same forest and built himself a house.  Years later, when he was sweeping up fallen leaves, he was enlightened.  He dropped everything, ran through the forest to his teacher, and said, “Thank you.”

– John Cage sharing an old Zen story in his book Silence

I am going to reblog a poem that I wrote for my daddy, but first a bit of his life story, I hope you enjoy it, his adventures in life were many, as were the heartaches and pain.

It is my father’s birthday, although I wish he were here with me, he would have been “110 years-old” He had just turned eight years old when his mother died, he went to live with his Native American grandmother, as his mother and father were divorced after his father left them sitting in an empty weathered house after he removed everything.

Unfortunately at the age of ten, his father came after him, he lived with his father, slept in the barn, ate on the back porch; treated as a farm laborer.  Not allowed to visit his beloved grandmother, he dreamed of running away.  When he was twelve, his father put him to…

I love this quote by “Ken Blanchard”

We each are unique in our own way.  At times we think that others should see, think and feel as we do because we are human, but this is not so.  We are individuals and each of us must be who we are meant to be.

I want to do the right thing, but often, I don’t know just what the right thing is.  Every day I know I have come short of what I would like to have done.  Yet as the years pass and I see the very world itself with its oceans and mountains and plains as something unfinished, a peculiar little satisfaction hunts out the corners of my heart.  Sunsets and evening shadows find me regretful at tasks undone, but sleep and the dawn and the air of the morning touch me with freshening hopes. ~ Carl Sandburg

Do you feel this way at times?  Do you gently lay your head upon your pillow at night, unable to sleep while you recount the day’s events, perhaps even berating yourself for tasks undone, words unsaid (or said) and the feeling of an unfinished day?  Then take a lesson from Carl Sandburg and allow…

From Kat on spiritualnetworks.com:

These quotations are interesting; their logic excites curiosity.

What do you think?

“He reminds me of the man who murdered both his parents, and then when sentence was about to be pronounced pleaded for mercy on the grounds that he was an orphan”  Abraham Lincoln

William Faulkner quotes (American short-story Writer and Novelist, Nobel Prize for Literature in 1949, 1897-1962) wrote the following about injustice.

“Some things you must always be unable to bear.

Some things you must never stop refusing to bear.

Injustice and outrage and dishonor and shame.

No matter how young you are or how old you have got.

Not for kudos and not for cash.

Your picture in the paper nor money in the bank, neither.

Just refuse to bear them.”

Have we become immune to shame?

Do we no longer feel outrage and empathy for victims of crime?

Would we rather look…

The English Plural by George Carlin

We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,

But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.

One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,

Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,

Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,

Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?

If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,

And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,

Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,

Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,

And the plural…