FootprintsintheWind.com

Do not mourn the ancestors. Do not remember them. For sure do not forget. They know what they are doing.

Converse with them.

:- Doug.

Chest pains
Are these serious?
But, things to do
Hours wise
Life foolish

:- Doug.

Begin in wonder
Wander a bit
As you go

:- Doug.

Give the eleventh generation a voice in our decisions and our conversations.

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 2006

Pray for our democracy. Pray light.

Please pass it on.

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Have compassion for the old man, stuck in his shriveling mind and hurting ego, kicking out at people who come near. Have compassion, pray compassion.

:- Doug.

So I am back to footprints in the wind^sm: scattering these footprints upon the winds to be borne across the generations. We are breathing the breaths inhaled and exhaled by Moses and Jesus, Siddhartha and Lincoln, so too we share the same seeds of spirit. Sow the winds.

:- Doug.

More critters—just keep engendering these guesses, keep working readers, keep asking them to work me. Humans have a capacity for imagination, and this perhaps will allow us to bend the arc of humanicity, to grow, more directly: walking more often the dusty side roads and fields; making a main path; seeking in each with more purpose.

:- Doug.

Profusion! Engender! Delight!
We grow by imagination
More critters more seeds

:- Doug.

Perhaps we are more hibernating than quarantining. A dreamless sleep—and how might we awake? Refreshed and invigorated? Wrung out and growling? Do we allow ourselves choice?

:- Doug.

I like a writing that works on its reader.

:- Doug.

Conservative and liberal trace to Apollo and Dionysus, order and wild. These are the human desires, the pulls between which we swing. Even the Old Testament God gives an open set of guides and moves only from restoration to uncontrollable anger, and seems never to lock people into straight rows.

:- Doug.

Conversing might be done through spirit.

:- Doug.

These days people do what they think is best, which usually means tempting the fates as much as possible while wishing they didn’t tempt too far.

:- Doug.

I speak with ancestors to be
and the ancestors already.

:- Doug.

Don’t say it all
Leave open the gate

:- Doug.

Keep on doing what you’re doing and with eyes turned toward humanicity, fingers light on the dial, hands open for possibility.

:- Doug.

I find in my imagination: washing, turning, dancing together, ancestors all verbs all, tumbling along, envisioning, imagining, human-ing, streaming, making possibles; you and I, doings, turning together across centuries, laughing.

:- Doug.

Steady or not, paddling or not, but conscious, with purpose, be. Be in the streaming. Be ancestor. Be love.

:- Doug.

To teach is to shrink possibilities; to draw out is to grow generations.

:- Doug.

Outside my window: beauty. All the tree, right down to the smallest twiglet, encased in clear silver. All the trees turned over and dipped in liquid instantly drying to crystal, then planted back but maybe not where they were. A greeting, a welcoming to a new year!

:- Doug.

Michael Pollan writes that the tulips in some sense owned their humans. A truer sense may be some partaking verb—playing, dancing, chorale-ing. Both are changed, bruised: in this the deeper conversation.

:- Doug.

The conversation is at least in part not with any of us; rather with the ongoing. Elders becoming ancestors touching babes becoming seven year olds. . . .

:- Doug.