FootprintsintheWind.com

Record happinesses, too.

:- Doug.

Inside your next poem
may be
inside the mystery

:- Doug.

If Jesus can do it
So can you
That is the story

:- Doug.

We think movement change
Jumbling will be our savior
Then we sit
On the other side of the desk
Meeting? Our same selves?

:- Doug.

Maybe by the end of the course you’ll choose what story to write.

To write is to explore
A course is life
Maybe is all there is

:- Doug.

What I’m teaching is my life
What you’re learning is story writing
Perhaps

:- Doug.

A cardboard box holds no water.

:- Doug.

I was going to tell you about the 17 or so poems I wrote in response to an event to figure out what happened, to ask myself what I could have done differently, to ask myself why this was so disturbing to me, to ask myself why this event had me over so many weeks so engaged. But I won’t do that. The end of it was that I discovered something I could have done.

But that’s the point: reflection is the province of age, and the bright light of old people poetry. It is hard work, and a most rewarding thing to do, now.

:- Doug.

I like my writing today. It still has edges needing trimming, sanding, finish sanding, yet it feels of me.

Then again, maybe the edges belong, like the intentional imperfections in a Japanese painting.

:- Doug.

This last might be the start of a poem, or it might be the whole.

:- Doug.

Reflect now to find beauty
you have found yourself

:- Doug.

Not so much a message have I but a gift received.

:- Doug.

Yes I know my meeting is only minutes away. Yet I am pulled to start this page.

There is much going through me, all the tenor of soft mellow flow. Some projects are pulls for the flow of the day. The flow is love, lovingkindness, reaching out. Reaching out might be the way to keep me light on my feet and upbeat. The presentation is a test run, more the first leg, the source of the stream.

I like writing like this.

:- Doug.

What are the fun parts of being an Old Lawyer?

:- Doug.

After all these years, am I at heart afraid to be who I am? So, to what extent? What is the edge of that?

:- Doug.

Some deep blue beyond the speeding clouds, which in turn are stirring the trees below.

:- Doug.

Write pregnantly

:- Doug.

Today is the first day.

:- Doug.

This is my river to poetry, poetry as shorthand for my spiritual infecting work. Yeasty!

:- Doug.

Poetry is not for filleting your gizzards
rather stretching joyfully spreading abroad
plashing cooling flooding people in range

:- Doug.

All of us have covid
here he softly chuckled
some with virus, some other wise

:- Doug.

Of course I can do this. It’s just a question of when to start and how long the start will be. A complete guess is 2 years. The only decision is to do it. Decide quickly. Row slowly. Go together. Make it fun.

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1982

If you’re going to tell your grandchildren—or anybody—a story you owe it to them that it be the one. The one that changed how you thought about life, how you lived. That one and the story of your pending death. No other stories are important. These are the meaning. You carry. We pledge to work on these two stories with one another till they sing, till they grow stronger and give life to your grandchildren.

Please pass it on.

© c 2020, Learning Works, Incorporated. All rights reserved. Easy reprint permissions: 574/291-0022, or by e-mail to mailto:Footprints AT FootprintsInTheWind.com. Back issues available at http://www.FootprintsintheWind.com