It was late October, and I was on the top of the mountain,
and the snow flakes fell like feathers. I heard her call me,
come lean against me awhile and rest. I sat under the Aspen tree,
and felt the strength and warmth of her limbs. I invited her to watch me awhile,
and her golden leaves touched me, and the snow melted me.
I wonder now, how she grew so beautiful,
with just the touch of the wind and rain
The Little Things
Last night I went to visit a person very small, yet very great,
yet very humble. The person had never known anger, fear, greed, or hate.
Little Rhiana is four months old, eight tubes in her body for life support.
She is leaving here soon in grace, sharing only love,
her mission complete.
I welcome the messengers that put a smile in my eyes, upon my lips,
and in my heart. I welcome the tear makers that wash my face.
I welcome the breath maker that comes to visit me, and chooses to stay awhile.
The snow hangs on the apples red
The apples hang on the branches bent
The branches hang from the tree
The tree stands in the earth
The earth moves through the universe
Is there a little universe inside the apple?
Inside the seed?
That such a beautiful tree can stand
in the snow and feed me.
Maybe we can sit awhile and open the cage door, and see the golden pond.
The holiness of our faces reflected there.
Watching us stop running for a moment.
Make a Life
Some say just show up. What if I no longer just let it happen?
What if I decided to make it happen. To make a life.
I would have to make some decisions, on what I wanted,
and manifest the creative source from within to come forth.
My mind, heart and soul are full of the gifts waiting to evolve.
There is a love poem my daughter wrote when she was ten.
I mainfested it would be shared a million times, and it is now happening.
It is on this web site, unfolding in the abundance of creativeness.
It is not that things are difficult that we do not dare.
It is because we do not dare that they are difficult.
Into the sea go all the rivers, and yet the sea is never filled,
and still to their goal the rivers go. There is enough, you are enough,
there is time enough. What ever you can do, or dream you can, begin it,
the willingness has power and magic in it.
When I was nine years old, my mother took me on a Sunday drive,
and left me in an orphanage. I had never seen a nun before and I shook with fear.
As I grew, I hated that nun, who looked through my box of clothes that day.
As she held them up, it was like showing me what I was worth.
We never liked each other, and over the next seven years
my resentment towards her became a mountain. Twenty years later,
I was moved to call her one Christmas day, and tell her thank you.
I called her three months later for her birthday. Then I called her once a month
for the next twenty years. She died last year and we learned to love each other,
before it was too late. God's name is forgiveness,
and sometimes it comes to visit my door.
He was old and I was small. I filled the tank of his Chrysler.
He asked me about my family. I only saw him twice. Once as a young boy
at the gas station, and once when I was twenty-one, and he was dying in a hospital.
In the years between he made arrangements for me to be placed in an orphanage,
he paid my way to a good college preparatory school,
and he paid my way through college. When he left here,
his will contained a check for me every month for fifteen years.
His name was John Randolph Callaghan, to me he was the Christ,
with a few loaves and fishes who fed a hungry boy.
More Messages of Hope