Sunday, January 31, 2010


In being fitted for my costume for the production of Shakespeare’s Richard II, that we are rehearsing, I got stuck trying to take off my outer layer with the laces. It became clear why the nobles had servants to dress and undress them. It was impossible to do it by yourself.

That incident threw me back in time when I was two or three years old and learning to dress myself. I remembered vividly the frustration I experienced as my feet got tangled in the arm holes and the wrong leg went into the other side of my leggings, so that they would end up backwards. They had suspenders that held them up under my matching coat, but did my skirt go on top of the leggings or did it get stuffed into them? Such a dilemma! My sweaters never buttoned up the way they should and I would have to unbutton them and start all over again. My little fingers would get so tired.

Then there was this unruly mop of curly hair that was a tangled mess to brush or comb. Yelps and tears were the norm and I am sure my governess was more upset than I was. How hard it was to reach that facility that now, I take for granted.

Well, sort of. Here I am, at an advanced age, struggling with the same incompetence in dressing as when I was a little girl. All the actors will help each other with our costumes as we will all be in the same boat. Since there are quite a few costume changes, we will be rather busy.

When I played on Broadway, we had union dressers but Boulder is a long way from Broadway.

Prema Rose

Saturday, January 30, 2010

There’s something beautiful about the snow
that comes in the night,
drifting silently like owl in the darkness.
It covers everything lightly,
hiding all the rough edges,
and brings purity back to the world,
even if only for a moment.

The morning sun crystallizes
all in sight
and beautifies every mundane thing,
reflecting off the snow
that fell silently in the night
on owl wings.


Thursday, January 28, 2010

Nettie Pot

It was late June and I was camped out beside the road in a field in northern Wyoming. I was one of twenty-five people that had gathered to participate in a workshop with a Mexican shaman. I knew no one but was determined to learn every one’s name by the end of the long week-end. This was a personal challenge for me, not only as a memory test, but because I had never attended a workshop like this so totally alone.

Truth be told, I was recently separated from my husband and it was my son’s 7th birthday. He was with his father and I was sitting with wonderful people that I did not yet know. It was the first time I was not with him on his birthday. I cried every day.

Secondly, for some obscene reason, I had set up my tent beside a dirt road which was spewing dust with every car that went by. I had no idea there would be so many. By the end of the first day I was in a full blown allergy attack, puffy face and eyes nearly swollen shut. I left the group and found a lonely shrub to crawl behind and I sat there silently sobbing, miserable, lonely and consumed by grief. I heard footsteps and there was the old Mexican shaman. He was a very short man and he looked at me with such compassion that my heart split open and my whole body shook with sobs. We did not share language and could not speak to one another, but he placed his hand on top of my head and then brushed loose hair off my wet face. He stood over me and whispered words.

After he walked away, I stood up, dusted myself off and headed for the bath house to splash cold water on my face. At dinner that night I was approached by three older women who were wild-crafters for an herb company out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. They told me all about the nettie pot and how it had helped them with their hay fever symptoms. Mix ¼ tsp of sea salt with 1 cup of warm water, tilt your head to one side and let this saline run through your sinus cavity. It sounded so simple.

Once at home I purchased a nettie pot from my local health food store and I have had a love affair with it every since. Excitedly I gave one to my mom in Kansas City and one to my sister in Springfield. I wouldn’t dream of getting on an airplane without one and gently packed mine all over Scotland a few years ago. About that same time my mother saw a woman on TV demonstrating how to use a nettie pot. A few days later my youngest brother called me and said, “Why didn’t you tell me about this years ago? I have worked with concrete dust all my life. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was actually mad at me. I reminded him that I did try to tell him and the rest of my family about it so many years ago, but they all just laughed it off as “another crazy thing” that Annette does. I told them all. But a woman on TV made it all legitimate for her.

I continue to sing the praises of the simple nettie pot. I have heard so many folks tell me that they would feel like they were drowning. But I tell them “if you can breath while your dentist has both hands in your mouth, you can use a nettie pot. It is way easier than the dentist.”

Flue bugs, cold viruses, sinus infections VS salt water and a simple nettie pot.
Try it, you may like it! I am pretty sure that you will not drown.

* annette

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

The Santa Monica Pier

It was a time to escape the millions of people on Santa Monica beach.

My friend and his wife needed a break from one another. He and I joined his neighbor on his sixteen foot sailboat and headed into the Pacific. It was amazing to watch as the coast reached further and further away. We kept extending further into the ocean, delighting into leaving the millions back on land.

After going so far west, we turned and headed north and kept going. Our friend had his little radio on playing soft music.

All of a sudden, we were covered in thick fog. We could not see anything. Our friend turned off his radio, bringing in total silence. It became very eerie, such quietness. We kept heading north. We had no idea which direction we were going. But with the thick fog we had no idea which direction we were going.

In a flash we looked up and discovered we were in a sailing regatta. We were headed straight for a huge colorful spinnaker , then another, and another. How surprising, now what? The huge sailboats were blowing at us, as we were doing our best to get out of the way. Eventually we did and what beauty surrounded us. The fog just as quickly disappeared. We eventually headed back to the shoreline. We headed for all the people we had attempted to get away from. But the quietness we prized was worth the adrenaline we managed to pump up.


Monday, January 25, 2010

A Spiritual Experience

I sat among the scrub oaks in the Jersey woods. It was midday on a sunny, Fall day and I had just come from saying hello to a couple who lived in a log cabin at the end of the paved road. I was deciding whether to head down the sandy path to my tent, set deeper into the forest, or whether to bike over to the Island and walk the beaches.
As I sat there hidden from view and breathing into the day, I felt a presence behind me. I didn’t jump up to look, but searched with my inner eye as to what I needed to see and know. I felt the slightest pressure on my shoulders and, in my mind’s eye, I saw Christ standing behind me with his hands there.
I was filled to overflowing with a deep loving, knowing that everything in that moment was okay, was perfect. That I was okay and deeply loved was communicated as well. I felt that love penetrate into my cells, into my heart. The tears, streaming down my cheeks, cleaned away a lot of the self-doubt and loneliness aftermath of the marriage’s end and gave me renewed hope to continue.
After a few minutes, I rose, wiped the tears away, and sent a silent prayer of gratitude for the experience.

This happened over thirty years ago and still is a vivid memory.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Ode to Shakespeare

'Tis learning lines and whence to move
That at my age is wont to prove,
That sorely it doth tax my brain
And all this work to be in vain.
Ah, Shakespeare, though I am imbued
With rhyming couplets and subdued
Within my honesty to know
That all in all, I strive to grow,
As doth the ever climbing vine
To reach for sunlight and to shine
Upon the branches of this tree
And thus illumine memory.
As much as I repeat my words
And sing aloft to listening birds,
As cadence lilts so easily
Within my heart to set it free,
My struggle to retain the clue
To the next line that doth ensue.
The rambling path to a clear thought
Becomes a labyrinth so frought
With twists and turns that I get lost,
But hold my own at any cost.
Yet slow retention doth advance
And on I go to dance this dance.

Prema Rose

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Prompt: Circles/Jyoti

Circles I
Circles within circles
some of light
some of dark
twining, rippling,
lines coming
from cosmic sources,
others of human mind
colliding, grappling enforcing,
to be rebuilt with beauty
and light.
Ever widening circles
of truth,
my truth
your truth
the truth
all available
in the Cosmic circles
we call our lives.

Circles II
Circles of friends,
circles of people
I’d rather not
fit into.
Circles of behavior
over and over
need different choices
to set in motion
new circles of ideas,
new circles of results.

Circles III
Circles within circles,
families, friends,
religions, cultures,
races, countries,
how these perimeters
lock us in,
block others out,
other circles
than our own.

Circles IV
Circling around,
I look for the silver lining,
I look for the truth
of any circle
I step into.
I’m circling light
like Earth is
circling the Sun.
It is my warmth
and my focus.
Circling light.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

A Message: Note to Self

Writing Prompt ~ Pretend you are your future self and you have come to tell your present self something she needs to know. What is it?

My dear sweet Annette, I want you to know that it all works out splendidly.
Love does conquer darkness.

Relax, you DO have all the time that you need.

Yes, excitement does feel a lot like anxiety: your cheeks blush, your thoughts are enflamed with possibilities, your pulse races and the heart beats wildly.
It is a crazy thing! Enjoy!

Please, learning to be comfortable with being uncomfortable is a wise thing.

Love springs from within and spreads beyond the physical body.
Love glows ~ fear festers and is stinky.
Panic is flamed by the un-know-ing-ness of that which is outside of self.
But remember,Our deep core center knows all truth.

Reclaiming our love of self can be practiced and will grow stronger and deeper every day.
You are marvelously worthy and everything is, and will be, all right.

With Love, Forever and Ever
* annette

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Appreciating Health

A friend, whom I haven’t seen in a while, asked, “How is your energy compared to a year ago?”

She caught me on a very good day. Thinking deeply, I realized I felt about the same. An upliftedness that felt good.

How often do we take our health for granted, more often if we are under 50.

Remembering back to five, there were times of running, jumping, rolling down hillsides with wild onion smells all around. Never once considering how we felt unless there was a skinned knee or earache. We were in full form, carrying on life as there were no tomorrow. That’s living in the moment.

As we age, we may come into an unhealthy menstrual cycle. Some lucky young women avoided this. Maybe especially if they were more physical. Then there was a time our health may become more serious. Nothing we ever suspected. An accident, although I don’t believe in accidents. I believe they are crises, to make us look at what we’re ignoring, as in my case, a lesson to be learned, as all sicknesses and crises are.

So when you have a good day, it’s threaded with gold. You want the thread to stay unbroken, but some days that’s impossible. When it isn’t, you hold onto the threaded light and let is spread, letting it expand as much as possible. Then some days, you just let go and just let it take you over, know it will come back and you will experience that glorious health year that is all in our inherent comfort.


Monday, January 18, 2010

In Honor of Martin Luther King, Peaceful Revolutionary

Today we celebrate Martin Luther King, an icon of nonviolent transformation in our culture. His famous speech “I Have A Dream” still can bring tears to our eyes with its inspirational message.

And yet his dream was even larger than that speech. In the April before his death, he embraced the poor and exploited peoples o f all the world in denouncing the Vietnam war and the system of greedy capitalism and imperialism which we still live under today. He warned that if we did not change our country’s path, for life times we would be denouncing war after war in service of that system. He observed that the needs of capital and the drumbeat of war go hand in hand, not caring for the people but for profit.

King lamented that the very countries that began the revolutionary spirit had become an anti-revolutionary force, holding back the need and will of “shirtless & barefoot” people to allow the stripping of value from their land and their backs for the profit of a few.

While great inroads have been made in learning to overcome bigotry in our land, racial hate talk still prevails. And the raiding of advanced capitalism has impoverished our very own nation. While profiteers go free, millions lose jobs and homes due to capitals unfettered search for ways to extract wealth from the work and savings of the middle and working classes.

I Have A Dream of a world where all children have a home, food, education and health care. They can play together without feelings of revenge for family members murdered or tortured by war or death squads.

We have the resources for such a world, which many of us still dream of. Yet corporations run rampant, sucking profits, being too big to fail. Even our elected government is in their pockets due to campaign contributions, corporate bailouts and subsidies, and war profiteering. Even local towns beg big corporations to locate there, vying for their favors by giving away the taxes that support our basic services, such as police, fire fighters, roads and school. Meanwhile exported jobs do not also include the American tradition of unions of workers, allowing for low wages and poor working conditions—and greater profits for the corporations. Those corporations and their leaders ask more and more and give less and less back in taxes to support our country.

When will we find a way to revolt against these corporations? When will we be ruled again by truly elected officials rather than by moneyed special interests? Are we already ruled by a corporate fascism? The definition of fascism is a governmental system led by a dictator having complete power, forcibly suppressing opposition and criticism, regimenting all industry, commerce, etc., and emphasizing an aggressive nationalism and often racism. Are not the corporations dictating the laws of our land?

--Terra Rafael

Sunday, January 17, 2010

The Unraveling of the Blanket of Lies

The unraveling of the blanket of lies starts with a little tug and soon the carefully woven tapestry of our collective make-believe, begins to get a little threadbare. However, our innate wish and draw to come home to unmitigated Truth, keeps us tugging, just a little bit more and then, pretty soon a tiny hole appears in the fabric.

We can peer through this miniscule hole and another vista is revealed before us. It resonates in our consciousness and we want to see more. Since we have accustomed ourselves to the adventure and violence culture du jour, what we see may seem foreign to us and even challenging. Our eyes must become adjusted to the light of Truth. Now this Truth may not always be comfortable or pretty. Much is revealed that we would rather not see, both in ourselves and what we project into the world. In taking responsibility for what we have created in our stories, we have the power to write a different story, weave a different pattern into the tapestry. But seeing through the lies, excuses, justifications, and fabrications, is the necessary beginning.

How do we open that tiny hole to let light shine through? First comes the question bubbling up from within, “Is there something more that I am not aware of?” There is the initial tug. Then , with persistence, the blanket of lies become undone. Those that cover themselves in this blanket will fight to the death and beyond to keep us unaware that there is a blanket and that we can take it off. They (we) fear exposure more than anything and so, they pile more and more blankets on top of coverings until the Truth is deeply buried in obfuscation.

We have a work to do. As we bring that tiny ray of light into our bodies, minds and hearts, we must be strong and courageous to hold on steadfastly as the hole increases and illumination fills the consciousness of our world. It is up to each of us individually to take that thread and begin to pull.

Prema Rose

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Synchronicity As Magical Process

During the seventies especially, the synchronicity of events always felt like magic. How did the Universe know I needed just that place to live? How funny that a friend dropped off a book I had read years earlier, but had woken up that morning with a yen to read it again?

Over and over, it happened. Sometimes I could almost time it. Twenty minutes…that one I called instant karma. Other times, it could take days or not happen at all.

Was it because I was living in the moment, or was it because I was high most of the time? Or was it because I believed it could happen and it did? Or was it also the Uranus/Pluto aspect making itself known?

I think it was a combination of all of these, and possibly other ingredients as well. Yet it showed me how desire and fulfillment are contained in the same moment.

Like in Astrology…there are Horary charts that are drawn up for the exact moment a question is asked. It is believed that in the moment a questions is posed, the answer is contained there as well.

I still see synchronicity in my life, but not in the continuous flow it was at that time. The magic, when it does show up now, keeps my sense of trust alive.


Thursday, January 14, 2010

Field of Dreams

A few days after Christmas I broke up a man that I had been seeing most of last year. Actually ”seeing” is kind of pushing it because he lives in Wisconsin and I, of course, do not. He was a very nice man and had many good qualities, but, for many different reasons the spark went out for me. I had discussed the timing of this break up with several of my girlfriends as it had become increasing apparent to me that this relationship was not going to be “the one” ….. again. We were heading into the holidays, Christmas and New Years followed immediately by his birthday. What to do? Ending? How? Reality? When? Crap!

A few years ago, I had been dating a fellow that I felt had potential. When he broke up with me after Christmas, I did not see it coming and allowed myself to be devastated. I did not want to hurt my fellow the same way if I could help it. As it turns out he was not surprised by my phone call ~ he too had felt the end was near and was quite gracious with me. But even so, I have felt a very empty spot in my heart. So I sat in the sun and called in its golden rays to fill this sad void with golden sparkles of healing energy. And this, in its simplicity and symbolistic nature, allows me to feel whole again.

I keep thinking of the famous line from the movie, Field of Dreams; “if you build it, they will come”. Well, in my innocence, I felt like that when I bought my little farm. When I first stepped into this sweet little farm house I thought it would be the perfect place for two people to live peacefully, and retire gracefully to garden and play with horses. I have been around the block twice but I remain positive about finding my life partner. I thought that “if I buy it, he will come”.

And so I wait, peacefully and gracefully, as I read books and write my stories, mow the lawn or shovel snow, making a living and playing with horses.

* annette

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Being Sick in Bed as a Kid

Maybe the chicken pox was the longest running childhood illness. They jumped and popped out and wanted to be known in the largest way. Their itching is their way in making big. The itching could literally drive one up over a hill and back down again.
The after effects carried us down a slick gravel path, making us think we were well and smooth again. Some of us have them easy and some of us have them rough. Either way they can be a tormenter, especially as a kid. There are a few rememdies that seem to ease and some that make worse. We’re extremely lucky if we make it through without scars.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Eye of the Beholder

A new camera – and my eyes became amplified and focused on finding beauty to capture and share. Suddenly, everywhere I looked and everything I saw was beautiful in some way—the angles meeting; the light & shadow playing against each other; the colors contrasting or coordinating; the textures’ three dimensionality. Beauty was bursting forth before my eyes.

And in this same way, my spiritual practice also provides me with a special lens for beholding the world. God is everywhere I look. Each person and each creature, each plant and rock, each chair and electronic device, shines with an inner light that when seen through the Divine Eye.

This view can come through grace, as a reminder when I’ve temporarily forgotten to use my holy eye. With continuing remembrance, it develops into expansive gratitude and appreciation.

I celebrate the Light in me that beholds the Light in you! Namaste’.

--Terra Rafael

Sunday, January 10, 2010


I have been looking at what Commitment means in my life for a long time. There are so many nuances to the concept that are played out in every day life. I will not delve into all the meanings for me, as that would probably be a whole book and one that I would love to write, but I will not commit myself to that endeavor, as yet.

What has arisen is that aspect of commitment that finds me in the most mundane of circumstances. It is in the waking up in the morning when I commit to be on this planet yet another day and the intentions that I set as I come into my body. I take some time with that, as I am able to function much better if the clarity is consciously present when I, literally, roll out of bed. I am ready to meet life more fully and be as aware as I can be. Within that, however, is the wish to live that Presence even a little more each day. I have my inner exercises that I made a commitment to doing forty years ago and have added onto through the years as my awareness increased. Many times it has been difficult and sometimes downright impossible, but that impulse was always there that rode me through the challenges. It is, in fact, those very challenges that increased the power of that commitment and brought me to unexpected benefits.

Yesterday, I was preparing for our annual celebration of George Gurdjieff’s birthday. Groups of students celebrate this event all over the world. (December 13th is the day he chose as his birthday because it is St. George’s day). In the afternoon of the preparations, I was asked to tell a story about transformation. What would I relate? I said that I would do it and in that moment of committing to an unknown element in my day, I opened myself up to the possibility of something unexpected arising within me.

As I was working on the decorating team, I was bemoaning the fact that God only made us with one set of hands and that another set would have been a much more efficient design. Suddenly, I realized that God had, in fact, made us with multiple sets of hands because we can work together to create a common objective. We only have to work together. There, in an instant, was one of the tenants of Gurdjieff’s teachings. The work must be done in groups, as we help each other in ways we, often, do not recognize. Then, the possibility of help from higher sources is available to us. I knew that this would be the essence of my story.

As the time approached, I filled in some more elements to illustrate the teaching through the characters and created the outline of a scenario. But then, in the moment of the telling, I opened it up to complete improvisation. What would actually come through? I was committed to the process and in trust that the creative spark would be there when I needed it. It was. Now, I see that there is story there that I can turn into a children’s book and I am excited about the possibility and further commitment to the unknown.

It is like jumping off a cliff into the ocean. Once you jump there is no turning back, you are committed to the fall. Whatever happens is the result of that commitment.

Of course, we can take this example into many different areas of our lives. People usually look at commitment in terms of a relationship or a job without recognizing the part it plays moment by moment. It can be a great ally if we see how much it influences so much of what we do. We do not have to be afraid of commitment. Commit and trust and much is made available to you.

Prema Rose

Saturday, January 9, 2010

It’s 2 AM and I feel like I fought my way across the desert tonight, with lances and large diamond studded hat pins.
I gave good for what I got, and I knew, as I emerged from this duel, the bacterial infection that has plagued me for over a week, was just now a fading memory. It was like an old life as an Araby soldier for some Sheikh had just relinquished its karmic hold on me.
I thought of the massage I had done with my son last week, freshly returned on break from Kabul, one of those desert countries we eye for oil and power.
Did I inadvertently take something on that freed him up to return and finish out the last of his agreement.
I think I’ll advise a few dips in the sea when he returns for good in six months, before I touch him like that. I can call on the Mother Ocean to cleanse the desert animosities out of his soul and not make them mine.

Thursday, January 7, 2010


Life at the beginning is so much fun. New car. New book. New romance. New Year.

With my love for my little farm and my sweet horse it is probably no surprise that I would rather shop at my local farm supply store than at Macy’s. But some of my friends just smile tolerantly as I proclaim my passion for shopping at office supply stores. I love them. I am rather technologically challenged, it is true; but I did enjoy setting with a friend the other day as he showed me his i-phone and dozens of “app’s” that allow him to do all kinds of far out things as we sat waiting for lunch to be delivered. I am happy for him, but I am not there yet. What if I was brave enough to get one and then I lost it? I am terrified of what would happen to my life if everything I needed to know and remember was in one small hand held devise. It makes me panic and my blood run cold. (speaking of cold it was -18* here this morning when I went out to do chores ~ brrrrr!!!!)

At the beginning of every year I perform the ritual shared by folks like me ~ the challenged ones ~ of transferring all the important dates and birthdays over to my new wall calendar. And there is something so esoterically satisfying about a brand new day-timer. It lies there opened to fresh clean pages, just waiting to receive my vision for each and every day; so full of potential!! Plus I have a large, flat desk pad calendar in my office, with large open blocks of time that I can scan with a quick glance and stay on top of my game, well, that’s the plan anyway. The cover page is often filled with doodles and random phone numbers and details of conversations that have transpired. But the last day of every month I can rip off that page and start anew.
I love that !!!!

I go one step farther to ease gently and gracefully into each and every new year. I sat down January 1st with my personal and my business check book and wrote “2010” on each clean check. By the time I have worked my way through that book of checks, I am more secure in the new year and can usually trust myself to write in the date correct most of the time. It is simple, like me I suppose. Just trying to make my life easier.

* annette

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Food and What Feeds Us

Our New Book!
Food and What Feeds Us

Stories, memoir, poetry, recipes.
Separate recipe section.
205 pgs.
$18.95 + $3.s/h.

From the back cover:

“Open the pages of this book and sit down at the kitchen table; you’ll find yourself enjoying the company and wisdom of women who share their memories, and their recipes. From the cucumber salad served in a small city apartment, to the strawberry patches of rural Wisconsin, to the Cotswolds of England, you are in for a grand culinary excursion. Along the way, you’ll find the anecdotes and recollections are as nourishing
as the food.” Jennie L. Brown, author Blue Moon Rising: Kentucky Women in Transition, a workshop director for the International Women’s Writing Guild, named Professor Emeritus by Western Kentucky University.

“Everyone has a story of food somewhere in their life. A Week’s Worth of Women has captured the warmth and sometimes humor of many, touching that inner spot where we keep our own special memories of the table. I highly recommend reading this book near the kitchen for surely you’ll want to start cooking. Brava to each of the authors.” Arlene S. Bice, author of Life & Labyrinth and The Reading Corner, a book review column for the Register-News.

“A poignant and touching collection of food stories complete with recipes. Hearts, bellies, and memories connected. It’s just how it always seems to be!” Cindy Morris, msw

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Many Pleasures

There are many things that give us pleasure. Spending more time in bed over the past few months bring these pleasure moments more into the light. A phone call from a friend I haven’t heard from in twenty years has been a great treasure, totally unexpected.

I have gotten so many cards from people I haven’t heard from in a long, long time. People you think have forgotten you.

A fun uplifting movie is a joy when you are spending too much time in bed healing.

A real handwritten letter rather than an e-mail makes one feel very special. Their handwriting, especially their own, one can pull out again and again is always a pleasure.

There are many ways for enjoyment if we start counting the ways of pleasure and paying attention.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Angel Turtle

Maybe it’s the feeling of being an angel, maybe that’s why I like snorkeling—floating weightlessly above another world, loving it, yet from a foreign consciousness.

The warm tropical sun gently kisses my back while the ocean water, calm and warm in the protected bay, holds me safely in her arms.

Then, if I’m lucky, I find the shallow spot where the sea grass grows and the sea turtle gently pulls it out with his beak and slowly chews. The slowness of the turtle merges with the tender movements of the mother water, to lull me into a liquid state of mind similar to that which the turtle inhabits.

Time is measured only by the need for short surfacing for air between long, languorous submersions. The turtles shell belies his openness. Ripples of his aura reach out and envelope me in his rhythm. I hover, gingerly undulating my flippers and arms, only to avoid drifting away. Maybe the feeling of being a turtle is why I like snorkeling.

My heart beats thank you to turtle and mother waters, for giving me a taste of heaven on earth.

--Terra Rafael

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Hope On

Time crumbles into moments,
Days, years, and decades,
Each measurement holds
A modicum of Hope;
The endings and beginnings,
The continuum of aspirations,
Our indomitable spirit of expectancy.

What if none of it is real,
Only an impetus to place
One foot before another?
We cannot get stuck in the Now
For there is always another Now.
Perhaps it is this very quickening
That gives the illusion of Time.

But here we stand
On the threshold of the unknown,
Full of wonder at what lies ahead.
Which way will our paths lead?
Dreams of what can become
The figure of our dance,
Beckon us relentlessly.

And so, join hands.
The circle widens then constricts,
Morphing into wisps of recognition.
A thread of longing binds it all together,
Fed by the deepest knowing
That it can be as we dream it to be.
Hope on forever.

Prema Rose

Saturday, January 2, 2010

The Ocean Air

It can be a sunny day with the ocean’s color a blue-green sparkle or it can be overcast and gray with the waves dark and menacing. As the water moves, a breeze makes its way to my face laden with salty, mineral smells, refreshing my skin, reminding me to breathe more deeply. I’ll walk along the water’s edge, wavelets gently lapping my toes or ankles, stooping for treasures I spot before the next mix of water and sand comes bounding up again, or covering my treasure with silty mirage.

The wind off the water seems to remind me of the limitless possibilities of the endless horizon I gaze at as I turn full face to the ocean and her edges where she meets the sky. I breathe in deeply and feel transported from the smell of shore town to a larger, global awareness as I inhale the scents and energies of the Earth’s waters.

It’s sweet, aromatic, filled with ions and energetic particles that dance down my throat and enliven me, perk up my physical energy and soon have me running along the ocean’s edge. I love visiting the shore and breathing in her air, scented and full of life.

Friday, January 1, 2010

The Last and First Day

So here I am on the last day. Doesn’t really feel like leaving but it is. I will wish I were one with you again. But life moves me along on this first day of the new year.

Jyoti: I thank you for taking me on. I remember calling to ask about joining, fully expecting a rejection yet you were welcoming and casual. I knew at once that I could write. I thank you for assuming that if I placed the call I must be a writer. What a concept for opening to the writer within. I love that. You are Mother Bear to your writers; protective and hungry for us to do more.

Patricia: Ahhh… the Southern Voice of our group yet Boulder to the core. I love your quiet patience. I love the way you look when you listen to our readings. I wait to hear what you will say because it will come in that soft Southern writer’s voice full of windows to a world that I want more of. You have a magical ability to write like the beauty and movement of your body. Lovely. You are a big wow like the evening star shining in the constellation of our group.

Annette: sunshine and sparkle. You can walk in stressed to your bones, drinking coffee and still you sparkle. There will be a smile on your face no matter what. That is a talent I wish I could develop. I love your easy writing style, your humor. My all time favorite piece is your 12 year old diary; “we saw our first hippies…” a young Annette; curious even then about the world. You give out a sense that all will turn out well. You choose happiness.The world needs more of you.

Prema: The poet full of grace and humor. I wait for your NYC childhood stories. I dreamed of girls like you when I was young. You bring a long experience of spiritual life slipping in bits of wisdom. I hold a vision of you walking through the woods, pockets filled with treats for the trees, birds, animals and a mob of small children following along behind. You have a sunny spot in mind for a lazy picnic where you will enchant the company with your stories. You are the universal Grandmother.

Terra. I never expected to meet a human manifestation of our Mother Earth. You are She. Your words are so familiar that I think I’ve heard them in another time and place. There is magic in how you give voice to that which has no voice, like a tree growing silently over eons. I am fortunate to know you. You are the Great Mother.

Take care. Be well and happy.