FootprintsintheWind.com

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1385

Help me speak from my dementia
Since I have trouble thinking
But I feel, I see, I exist
I want to love you
And be respected
Because I am, still
I remember, I remember
The songs, the dances,
The babies
I don’t have the words so much
Any more
But my life
and yours
Are more

Please pass it on.

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:- Doug.

One person dispensing what she has to one hundred people who have something as well is missing out. Better, let us make as our watch word, How can we, together, make life better? Let us go on an exploration. All, even the least “knowing” have something to offer, else there would be no meaning in our “out of the mouths of babes….”

:- Doug.

The work of the world is not in one person alone. It must be completed between persons. Each of the persons contributes—brings forth—as does the being that arises between them. This being is no more ephemeral and no less real than the lap that shows up when you sit.

:- Doug.

The work of the world is conversation. To the extent you are in front of a group of people you are obstructing their work. There is a certain hubris in the notion that one person’s new ideas—products of intellectual activity—are so valuable to have a hundred people sit and listen! Are ideas more valuable than getting work done? Is intellectual labor more noble than relational or creative or physical? These are not separable.

:- Doug.

The beast that is
strangling the life
out of you
is named Control—
and you, you think
you are holding it
by the leash
between you

:- Doug.