CRAYOLA, (written in 1971)

I first failed to see the order

When I tried to arrange my crayons

In a spectrum on the floor.

There was no place in any sequence

For the one labeled ‘flesh’,

Or the brown or gray or pink,

Or even the black and white ones,

Nor when the sun burned through the mist

Could I find them in the rainbow.

Then I took

A black man from the Niger,

A brown man from the Ganges,

A golden man from his island in the sun,

A yellow man from the Yangtze,

A red man from the last reservation,

A white man from his throne of ice,

And lined them up naked

In a spring green meadow –

An earthy prism indeed,

And wondered what was more strange:

The colors, the nature of skin,

Or why our eyes think what they see.

If I could drop them all

Into a thousand year melting pot

Would I have the perfect color

Or a useless pallet

Devoid of hue and nuance?

As I put my crayons

Back in their box,

In no special order,

I closed my eyes,

Wondering if blind people

Would think much of my orderly exercise.

Adding Us Up

There are infinite ways to describe ourselves, as we are, conveniently, infinitely unique beings regardless.

We are the sum total of all the things we’ve done but shouldn’t have, all the things we should have done but didn’t, the things we shouldn’t have done and didn’t, and the things we should have done and did. I’m not quite sure what ‘should’ means however. Do add the guiding motivation behind all these choices.

Buddha said we are the sum total of all our thoughts, which is a more condensed way of putting it. But that must include all the times we were not thinking, but still entertained thoughts. Or they entertained us.

It took a while to figure out that this does not imply that one should be filled with thoughts. Overthinking tends to be a state of senseless static. There is quite possibly such a thing as too much knowledge. There is no point in hoarding universal knowledge, and less so for being a repository – and worse – a font, of opinions. If we are metaphoric books, would we rather the pages already be filled, or leave some some nice blank ones for new revelations and adventures? Maybe a little poetry or magic yet undiscovered.

Another measure of who we are is what fears (lies) have we been liberated from, and what fears do we still cling to, or allow to still cling to us? It can be scary letting fears go, which sounds like a joke but isn’t.

Add the degree to which we love ourselves. Self love is something more than a set of thoughts, though it may take some new thoughts to achieve. (Different than the old thoughts that may have taken it away, but always a choice.) True self love is a nice balanced response to how the universe regards all of us.

How we process every experience.

No doubt, to some degree, we are exactly who we think we are – or just a reflection of who our ego wants us to think we are.

To what degree do we care to resonate with our oneness with the Divine?

Who we are is also the sum total of every choice we have ever made. Which begs the question: which aspect of our multidimensional self made those choices? An old version, a new version, or a version we didn’t know was simply living in our heart?

Ah, consciousness is an ever awesome frontier, but what a Gift!

Empirical Analysis

All empires are built from Third Dimensional egos, sustained by those believing the same illusion, and all empires fall under the weight of accumulated hypocrisy, as new egos rise to replace them. This is the cycle of manifest reality on a 3D planet. None of this should be disdained if we don’t choose to access our 5D hearts, and the Source of truth within. There is great magic contained within this vastly (!) unique challenge; the very purpose of this lunacy laden life opportunity.

Or, we can just continue to join and complain about the illusion.

Great Wisdom,

Or: The Cosmos in a Nutshell

It turns out that God created Time so that everything doesn’t all happen at once, and Space so that it doesn’t all occur in the same place. Oh, and with Love so that it’s all eternal. Like, how smart is that? ‘Reality’ was created so that we might fill that time and space with learning experiences, over and over again if necessary, which is evidently the case. Love, which everyone comes equipped with, was already there as the greatest guide through it all. We must simply not confuse that treasure in the heart with our third dimensional ego brain.

The Creek

The magic spot where I have been writing ‘GIFTS” is a little pool, spring fed from the Sierras, in the hills behind my house. The tiny waterfalls went silent over a month ago, and in most places the visible water disappeared as well.

I had grown accustomed to the water, where I grounded my bare feet each evening, maintaining the same level, while nothing else in the creek bed did. Last week in the midst of the firestorms consuming the west, we had some days of record heat that then suddenly dropped 40 or 50 degrees, but my sacred pool started to shrink. The top of the slab of chert I put my feet on was now exposed, and the remaining water was turning green.

Last evening, with ash raining down everywhere, I took my hike to my retreat wondering what was in store.

I love surprises, which gifts can tend to be. Not only had the water level risen to cover the chert again, but the little waterfall lip rock was dripping and singing four or five long droplets per second into my foot bath.

As it was growing dark, I sang my heartfelt gratitude and praise loudly in the steep little canyon, the acoustics a bit like singing in the shower. It was no stretch to be aware of the frequency raising around me, and was the second time that one of the tiny chorus frogs that hide among the rocks there joined me in the celebration for a while. One tiny frog and hundreds of tree crickets. And a little brook that wasn’t quite babbling.

Posting Again: GIFTS

As a few of you may have noticed, I am posting again.

What I have not figured out how to do since WordPress changed their format, is access all my latest photos. There are some old ones worth posting again, but that is not very inspiring, as the last six months have been a treasury of multi-dimensional gifts – including photos.

In that time I have nearly finished the personal editing and proof reading of the EdenWold Trilogy. Submission to publishers grows ever closer.

Most of my writing I do out in special places in nature. There is a creek in a canyon behind my house where I have spent months moving the native rocks around and creating a little series of waterfalls and pools. The creek is spring fed from water high in the Sierras.

During those months I have been sitting on a blueschist boulder at the edge of a bathtub sized pool where I ground my bare feet on an aqua colored slab of chert, a form of quartz. Not an evening has passed without experiencing some enchanting gift, usually multiple, from nature. While the other shallow pools both up and downstream have dried up, my little pool is strangely maintaining its water level. I do consider that a gift.

I’ve written dozens of pieces there that I was unable to post, primarily for lack of technical skills. My son-in-law Joe has fixed that. But many of them will be part of a new book.

Not exactly (but almost) overwhelmed by the continuous gifts that manifest in the form of little creatures, plants, and orbs and other spirit lights flashing in the dusk and darkness, the idea of ‘gifts’ started becoming a book that may well be published before the three books of EDENWOLD: Tales from the New Earth.

EDENWOLD is technically fiction, though drenched in truth.

No small part of this is the gratitude I feel for all the little gifts wrapped up in One big one.

The new book is titled GIFTS: The Creekside Chronicles

GIFTS is non-fiction, and drenched in the same truth.

I’m still working on subtitles, such as:

Experiencing God as the Natural World Around You

Recognizing that it’s All a Gift, and to not be embarrassed by Being Reverent and Blessed.

The Art of How to Receive

In that magical creekside venue, I am receiving a chapter per visit, with no writer’s block in sight.

Poly-Sci Prophecy

Amarose Willy snaps, flondering von Yolkengomps, stabblemounded Polywhomps, Furbletined Songwhoppets, Fleer-frinkled Hooshawama, Boselteens, Faldamion Yornglossing, Fleemamatic stort, and really no end in sight. That we know of.

If you repeat it enough times out loud, it gets easier to say and makes a lot more sense, and especially none at all – almost as hypnotic as political rhetoric. For maximum benefit, practice in complete privacy. And don’t tell anyone what you really think. They’ve all already heard the same thing translated into tweets.

I hope you weren’t hoping for something else.

Or more importantly, that you were…