FootprintsintheWind.com

Who spoke? Who in shade
listens? Does either one hear?
Solitary bird

:- Doug.

Bread—as life and you and I—comes from fire.

:- Doug.

The this all there is moment is another “Greek god” of time.

:- Doug.

To write slowly and spaciously brings up to the mind?—the soul?—grey cloths not previously encountered.

:- Doug.

What is to know? To mystery, to poke mystery as if to poke holes in its veil, this is to us to know. This satisfies or must satisfy as monastery wall with a crack and a Zen view of mountains and green valley.

:- Doug.

We carry with us our individual space-paces.

:- Doug.

Consider there are ways we know one another that by-pass conscious pathways. What little I know.

:- Doug.

What would you do?

:- Doug.

O failing, flailing old man!
You have made the world
           Grey
Its only color
           The blood
Of the myriads dying
           Silently

:- Doug.

I don’t know anything
nothing can be known
nothing sits still long enough

:- Doug.

When do things happen
that happen
in imagination?
In one time only
Or in more?

:- Doug.

Last time I grew a beard it had color—I no longer remember which!

:- Doug.

As I look on, my mind is fraying—my body too.

:- Doug.

Take in history with large gulps.

:- Doug.

We are more than one—we’re at least more-ands.

:- Doug.

We’re no longer adults. What is adult?

:- Doug.

Who says conversation has to be simultaneous? Email is not; texts are not. For that matter, in-person conversations have a lot of turn-taking.

:- Doug.

How are we the same?

:- Doug.

I won’t tell you what to think. I won’t even pretend to point you to what you might think. You will and can think more and further than I. That’s conversation.

:- Doug.

Repeat some words, turn them.

:- Doug.

I invite you to pause here, ponder, savor, let it work you.

:- Doug.

Make a list of elusive words.

:- Doug.

There is no place to get to—where we are is the only place we have—it is a question of questioning what we do to help one another—love one another.

:- Doug.