FootprintsintheWind.com

We are no longer magnet—we are pulled away—not repulsed.

:- Doug.

If the ancients did not mention the color blue maybe our mention of the color of our veils will give to those next after next.

:- Doug.

Processes are threads
between us
Grey fabric
separates us
connects us
pulls us
to stand
outside
overlapping
in breezes
Flash!

:- Doug.

We enter the Great Timeless.

:- Doug.

Ecstasy

Leaning in to one another
Leaning out together
Leaning toward whole

:- Doug.

More precious and with looser grasp.

:- Doug.

Together we help us attend the infinite entering this moment. Continuously.

:- Doug.

We confuse the doing for the accomplishment. Doing is the greater worth.

:- Doug.

Together we face into the wind.

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 2512

I realized that I am living the life I want to be living. I have a loving family, all good persons. I am doing the work I want to be doing. I am conversing with and meeting people and doing a few things for others directly, as well as this large thing, The Last Hot Chocolate, for my human family writ large.

Please pass it on.

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I do not care if I die. And I want that the work gets stirred.

:- Doug.

Dark is the same every-
where embracing you with all
in transparency

:- Doug.

Dark gestates
Fallow fecundates
Nothing heals

:- Doug.

From our communal dark—our vanishing smallness and ineffectuality—arises our concern for generativity.

:- Doug.

What requires dark? Pregnancy, roots, seeds, chicks in eggs, you. What must be left alone? And when does light interfere? When do we know better? When is it better to know less?

:- Doug.

We can be blinded by light
We can see other in dark

:- Doug.

We’re always unsure
There’s always a wrinkle
That’s how the dark gets in

:- Doug.

There is a pain of separation. There is a greater pain of never having come together.

:- Doug.

Every layer of our curtains is fuel for fire. Fire to consume us—to pull us into dark unknowns opening out.

:- Doug.

Without wile and without while. Wile away some hours with you.

:- Doug.

Here I smile into my sleep—or is it into my waying?

:- Doug.

The veil that the two of you hold up in common may be of dust; did you miss that as well it may be of fire? Searing away dross—and it burns your fingers to poke?

:- Doug.

Meet the person where they are most alive. Go to this meeting empty and pregnant—carrying a child of rainbows.

:- Doug.