Turn The Page

Life is a book,

don’t judge by the cover.

But first impressions are real.

Some are glossy and colorful.

Those are the new ones.

Some are mis-printed and self-published.

Some are old and dusty.

Some are embellished with gold and jewels.

Some are newsprint and others are parchment.

Some are leather. Some are vegan.

And some don’t care.

All in the library of collective universe.

Some fat, long and verbose.

Others short and simple.

They will all be born again as the next in series.

Chapters as eras in our own life.

The childhood, teen, young adult, adult, older adult, and wise one all leading to the next.

Pages as Earth rotates around Earth and as Sun rotates around Earth.

You cannot turn the page until this one is written.

Have patience.

The best stories take time.


When was the last time you touched the world with your tongue?

I mean really touch the world.

To lick a tree.

And to know you’re free.

To explore the green veins beneath a leaf.

Or the roughness beneath a fern.

Soft and supple.

Hard and brittle.

Fluffy like a bunny.

Horny like a lizard.

Smooth like an apple.

Pithy like the inner flesh of a reed.

Rough like elephant feet.

Ridged like horse hoofs.

Wet like a salamander.

Warm like sunshine.

Cold like an icicle.

Own own bodies.

Pulsing texture.

Contures. Fractals.

Sense as an explorer of distant lands.

To taste bitter sage.

While touching straw like bunchgrass.

While laying on lichen covered basalt

finding the perfect spot for my body to lay as if a perfect puzzle.

Warmth from the dark rock

absorbed from the day.

With contrasting cooling of wind.

The sunsets as the birds settle.

How flavors match their texture.

Animal. Primal.

Beyond logic.

Here. Presence.


First there was nothing.

Then one thing.

Then fractions.

First there was blackest black.

Then lightest white.

Then refractions.

How blue is different from red

is different from yellow.

Their cousins of musical notes

in harmony inspire complementary colors.

As bees love flowers

with colors not seen by me

Humans love color.

From the methodical Rembrant

To brash Pollack.

My breath split by the reed a flute creates a tone.

As light refracted by the prisms of our eyes create cornicopia.

Every cell sheds lumens

and wonder what color.

A lumen from a distant star

arriving long after the original star has gone cold.

How our bioluminescence persists ever outward

after we’ve become salt.

Vibrations and rainbows.

Stoics and emotion.

Pick your channel.

Pick your color.

Tao Of Existence

Treat everyone as equals including the crazed, manipulative or sociopathic.

Just avoid those who cause trouble politely.

An action towards one is an action towards all.

Supreme freedom and sovereignty.

Compassion for the child and butterfly as the curmudgeon and caterpillar.

Integrity. Authenticity. Truth.

More is spoken in silence.

Be soft.

Take time.

Slow down.

Be present.

Open the heart.

Let water be a rolemodel.

Befriend your own heart.

Take time for yourself.

Patience is among the greatest attributes.

Love is the giver of life.

Truth equality above all.

All is how it should be.

Have levity. Laugh at life’s seriousness.

Let go of sorrow and live with joy. Not of ignorance, but of self-awareness and responsibility.

Allow yourself to be broken, so you can be recreated. Reborn.


A single drop drips from a cosmic fern into a still lake creating reverberating ripples in all directions once back to collective waters.

A single word can change the world. How random acts of kindness begets more.

Karma. Seven degrees of separation from everyone else.

The world is smaller than we can imagine yet time vast and none.

100th monkey.

Spontaneous insight. Synchronicities.

Progeny fo on to speak for us after we enter the collective lake.

Artwork with artist forgotten.

Books entering the memory.

A message scribbled on a wall not even registering consciousness,

but registering.

Compliments of empowerment.

Criticizing is minimizing.

We choose every moment.

Imagine if this was the last time. The last day for them. The last day for you.

Dance instead of walk.

Sing instead of talk.

Open your hands and your eyes.

A life of authentic expression with compassion and integrity.

Buddha says suffering is inevitable.

But simplicity, compassion and patience is the way.