Share places to look
Share ways and places to look. With generations.
:- Doug.

The hidden may be subtle or nuanced; or plain and obvious, sitting on a high shelf behind a pair of old and stiff leather work boots. It may have been deliberately concealed, covered over, or casually tossed aside while looking for something else. To find it will take many paths. Not always alertness. Or three-line poems might turn your eyes just enough.
:- Doug.
Sometimes is the center of the hidden and of our chance to human better.
:- Doug.
Turning seems somehow related to hidden. It can cause us to turn toward good.
:- Doug.
And why? Hidden is not mystery, something known only to certain beings and perhaps not ever penetrable by most; it is instead something available if we seek it out, something known but in the mists, possible to forget, possible to find again. Hidden pulls us to find; mystery carries us away and may not be of any aid.
:- Doug.
What’s hidden our elders may find
What is hidden is only tucked away
to be found to be benefactor
to be good maker
and then to be tucked away for
another—time? person? epoch?
:- Doug.
Mystery draws me. No. It’s not mystery that draws me but the hidden—the parts of us tucked away to be discovered when needed or wanted—and then tucked away again.
:- Doug.
“Time is what keeps everything from happening all at once.” Just the opposite—time is what enables humans to collaborate.
:- Doug.
Footprints in the Windsm # 2072
Accepting that conversation is the buzz of any environment allows me to slip into and out of any conversation with any person. The conversation is always supporting us. I don’t have to make a subject—it is already present.
Please pass it on.
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It’s about heart—your heart—their hearts—my heart—our big heart. It’s about the real heart—the human spirit. The coeur. The really real. Not peeling the onion to nothing.
:- Doug.
What is my story? Why do I care? We can do better. We can live more fully. This is at our fingertips. Sensitize!
:- Doug.
I must walk into my fear: say the word: spirit. This is the fear part: this is why people quaked in fear of God, not that they were afraid of God, but afraid of admitting they were the presence of God. I am not God; no one is; but we are each the presence of God. All of us are afraid to say so. Do I have the courage to post this? Post without tempering?
:- Doug.