FootprintsintheWind.com

We need both slow and fast, gentle and strong, for a good massage. So too for our thinking.

:- Doug.

The fast boat covers a lot of surface but misses the worlds below.

:- Doug.

The media are scrupulous to search out those for and against. At times this feels like endorsing each as of equal validity. Some incisiveness is also needed, would you agree? Ought we give equal time to the lie as to the truth? To hate as to love?

:- Doug.

Dying is perhaps a time to ease, to clear, to calm, to gentle.

:- Doug.

There is always to be found more depth; ever apt to be rewarded is our reflecting.

:- Doug.

More times than we would guess are ripe times for reflection.

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1687

It’s seldom a question of knowing when to say when, but of working it out. When I write a poem there are a hundred right ways to say what needs to be said. My primary urge is to express the thing new to me. Then I want to say it well—so you will want to pay attention—and so you will carry it further. Because of these hundred right ways there is no perfect wording, so I have to choose to say when the end has come, when to let it go on its way. When it comes my time to die, perhaps it will be like this.

A word too far in a poem
Can undo the life it brings

Please pass it on.

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This thing you call God is too small. Anything you could would be. It is “another god before me,” a “graven image.”

:- Doug.

I don’t much say “God” because that affixes a handle—leads us to think we know—and therefore are bigger than this.

:- Doug.

Perhaps it is bigger than that.

:- Doug.

For me there is always and only conversation.

:- Doug.