“Every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.” -Charles Dickens-

Saturday, December 20, 2014


Toast red rice in coconut oil with fresh garlic, reduce flame, add vegetable broth, simmer till done. Boil adzuki beans till done. Cut kale into strips and steam till it wilts. Mix beans and rice together, add Bragg liquid enzymes to taste and, if adventurous, a bit of chili powder.
Serve on a bed of kale in deep bowl topped with fresh slices of cherry tomato.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014


Wind will not, nor chill assault
                the pillowed nest where I
Leave the world to curl within
                 to sleep, to dream, to fly

Monday, November 17, 2014

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Friday, October 17, 2014


This is what one finds at one's favorite Type pad sites sometimes, and what I find today while looking for Myth and Moore, Windthread and Spirit Cloth.

Monday, October 6, 2014


Someone cut the tree down. An artist reacted


I live in a building where almost everyone is a stranger now, where I used to know every one. These new and ever changing ones have no use for my presence, and don't know the me I used to be, nor the history of the place, nor do they care.  It's understandable of course.  Why should they.  Weekends are roughest because there's a lot of coming and going at all hours day and night.  Everything creeks and cracks, voices echo, doors slam shaking walls, and I'm shaken as well from whatever I'm doing or not doing, muscles clenched, heart quickened.  Sometimes a spill, or a ruined pen line.  It's unpredictable.  Often a startled awakening precipitates sleepless vigilance.  I use it as best I can to strengthen my focus, in the same way a loud siren can be incorporated into a sitting meditation--"soften" I say to my self, and "let go, let go, go on, let go" playing in my head like a mantra.  But this weekend I was struggling with a cold that had worked it's way into all my damaged parts--shoulder, knees, hand and neck joints.  Friday I taped this sign to my apartment door.  Some results.  Some resentments too.
And, so it goes...

Tuesday, September 30, 2014


It's a comfort to think of Seasons in the folk way today with a certain damp lurking at the edge of October here.  

All customs and songs shown in this twenty minute film are traditional, they've been recorded from the country people several centuries ago. It’s not neo-paganism, it’s the indigenous European paganism in it’s original form.


Wednesday, September 24, 2014


There comes a time when the kindest thing to do is to sever, when the only way to love is to let go.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Thursday, August 14, 2014


"Let me respectfully remind you
life and death are of supreme
importance.  Time swiftly passes
by and opportunities are lost.  On
this night our days are decreased
by one.  Each of us should strive
to awaken.  Awake!  Take heed.
do not squander your life."


Have a listen:

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Tuesday, July 29, 2014


"It's the birthday of newspaper columnist Don Marquis, born in Walnut, Illinois (1878), who created the characters Archy the cockroach and Mehitabel the alley cat. Archy was a former free verse poet who "sees life from the underside now." He wasn't able to reach the shift key so everything he wrote was in lower case. And Mehitabel was an alley cat with questionable morals who insisted that she was Cleopatra in one of her former lives.
Marquis was a champion of the underdog and not a fan of pretension. His columns were humorous, but had political undertones. His character Archy said once, "a louse i used to know told me that millionaires and bums tasted about alike to him." And, "what is all this mystery about the sphinx that has troubled so many illustrious men no doubt the very same thoughts she thinks are thought every day by some obscure hen."