No More Answers

I've grown tired of answers
Give me only questions
Questions that awake me
Questions asked without opinion
Questions voiced for no other reason than to ask
Pre-supposing no answers.
Let's just keep asking questions
Without making up our own answers
Do you have faith to do that ?
Can you learn to live without answers?
And still know the joy of life ?
I submit the joy of life lies only in our questions
Answers are nothing but distractions from the Truth.

Soul Mates

Today, the first day of Spring, is for the soul.
Winter is blown away by a southern breeze.
Small buds take a chance once again, for about the 5th time this season.
You are in your shop curving maple and cedar into fluid shapes.
I am in the garden smiling at the young shoots;
My life's resiliency again.
I will soon switch to the kitchen where wine is opened,
Steaks marinated, mushrooms lightly brushed,
Collard greens turned into the oil and garlic,
Friends will arrive, the music queued....
And the rhythm of New Life takes root !

Shadow Lives

What would it be like to live with totally new constructs,
To hold a bird's eye view of life for perspective
To unwrap our opinions and habits and see them for what they are
To shed our winter skins and assume a new home
With a new system of perception and analytics
That frees us to ask a new set of questions
A new set of questions that will provide different answers

I'll start pondering one of these...Einstein's construct of space & time - that it is curved, not straight as in past present and future...most of us experience time as single threaded but how cool to live life in a curved dimension. I am intrigued by this because more and more I have a sense of shadow life, me still doing something somewhere, me doing something in the "future"; it's already occuring.

Free will does not seem so free when we are stuck in our old skins.

March Madness

Rain non stop for 18 hours now. Bobby, my dog, looks at me like I am nuts to think about leaving the house. He is content for a quick release under the palm closest to the porch. The two younger cats sit smug and dry on the porch swishing tails, laughing, wondering at all the water outside. My oldest cat turns her back on the whole thing, smart thing she is, and returns to her private abode in my office...warm, dry, and dark. What else could you hope for on such a day ?
Outside the bromiliad cups are overflowing, the new roses maintain their blossoms despite the lashing rain, the cactus hope for the best and await the return of a hot hot Florida summer.

The Moon shines on my newly planted Coleus
Contrasting contrails streak wide across the sky
Winter still looms in the North
The jet stream ladles the cold down South
Any buds are gone again....maybe next week they'll try again.

Advice to Writers

As the words come you must capture them then...as you do.
Do not fret the time of day or night
What stands between you and the muse
The words fall into place with the force of the spirit that guides them.
Catch the faery dust.
It will never be the same twice.

Roses

I planted Roses today
Sun Flare for Yellow, my Mother's favorite
September Morn in honor of 9.11
Memories planted deep
Seeds in our soul
Life's resiliency
Love's remembrance
My offerings to the sky
And all before me.