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

Sunday, February 25, 2018


Every once in while I pause
And take a breath
And lift my head up and look around

Released for the moment from all the busyness
I have woven around myself like protective armor

And in that brief moment I know
We are all alone, born alone, die alone

Perhaps not we, just me

I can look back on my life and realize
That in spite of co workers, and more, and
In spite of being surrounded
By fellow therapists,
And by the saints in my little church
And at times by family

That in spite of the company, I have been alone the whole way
I do not say lonely—at least, not all the time—
but essentially, and finally, alone.

Oh there is human contact
And moments of grudging respect
For what I can do….

But there is something that keeps people from “sticking”

I am the Teflon man…
Perhaps I am too arrogant?
Too greedy?
Not kind?
Too insecure, and thus too self-promoting
Too opinionated?
Definitely too opinionated!

It matters not the flaw

It is just that
In the dark
When my self-esteem falters
And I realize I am too tired, too old, too whatever
To really do and be what I want to do and be

That I am marking time
I am alone

And not respecting myself I must look in the hearts and minds of others for my happiness

But there is no one really there
Or perhaps I can’t see him, or her

There is no one really there
Except happy dog

Which is something
Which is something indeed

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