Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Monday, November 7, 2016


Its not so much that we have a self, it’s that we do self-ing
As Buckminster Fuller famously said, “I seem to be a verb”


Who am I?
Who knows?
Which me are we talking about?

For I am always changing, moving, growing, regressing

Who I was is not who I am, who I am is not who I will be
The question is not whether I will change
But how I will change

And although there are many things which effect
The self-ing process

Floods, tornadoes

And of course, elections

All kinds of disasters , natural and human made

There are other people
There is life

Yes, life happens.

I would like to have a “me”
Emerge that is wiser, truer
More open
More patient
More forgiving
More accepting
More loving

I think there are many versions of me in me
But my task is simply to relax
And open myself to Sacred
And let my best “self” emerge,
As I walk through life
Centering on virtue, compassion
Wisdom, peace, kindness

Seeking to have my self come from these
Is the best I can do
It’s all I can do

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