FootprintsintheWind.com

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1159

Courage: This is important, this is scary, I need to jump. Once I jump, I need to accept any slaps in the face, accept any little deaths, and walk on to the new nascence on the other side. It will not, it cannot be life as it was, it will be fresh, something to be uncovered by steps.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1158

Love takes a chance.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1157

What is in our American-human heart, the one out of which we grew? Welcoming the huddled masses, giving beyond generosity to those suffering disaster, defending your freedom to say that with which I would disagree, participating in our own government, making bountiful feast with the natives whose shores we have come to as displaced strangers, rolling up our sleeves to get needed jobs done, rolling back and creating new frontiers….

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1156

Somewhere in the foggy mists
Of everyday
Your true face waits to shine
With its original divinity

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1156

empty-making & whole-making
these are all we sell here
muddle & community
hero/ine going out coming back &
finding the boon for the community in
the community
most folks don’t have either
zig & zag each and both help the
line remember it is one

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1154

Water the seed till the roots take
Ingrain in yourself the practice
Then you wake, then you see
Tree of compassion branching out of your hand

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1153

The forest has a light all its own
Soft and animal friendly
By which to see the paths growing
Fainter do still go on,
But deeper, to a shimmering light

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1152

The street dervish sees the redbud tree, the white flowers on the pear tree, and sees through them to the fruit in the fall. But what of the redbud he asks: it bears no fruit but seed pods, and its flowers are but for a few days. Its flowers come first with a promise and a fulfillment before the long work of the summer. What is going on here?, asks the dervish. Nature giving the beauty, the bounteous payoff before the work? Smiling he sets to dancing….

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1151

Dance; relax into your life as it is now, as it must be for awhile.

Remember to dance a little, to smile a little, cry a little. Remember to go on. A leaf on a stream can be happy as it is to its end of the stream carried along.

This is about whole-making, healing, weal-making, well-making. Relax into your role; let it carry you like that leaf, and notice, look around: there are other leaves like you, floating. Some have tears and sweat and blood; some dance, maybe a little jig, maybe a dance of their weariness and sadness and grieving. All are carried along.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1150

Humans have a sacred faculty, something that the imagination can catch and fly upon, as upon a magic carpet. We may have a BS detector, but we are shy to openly give our heart to that which lifts us above the mundane.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1149

So many sufferings, so many people to help, the problem is getting them together; we are entering a new era, the era that can be defined by conversation and meeting, being persons to one another. Global warming can be a good thing—warming to each other.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1148

Welcome the stranger, let the sacred in.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1147

What do we want to do? What do we want? Do we really want to only fill our bellies, to drink beer and watch TV? Or do we want to have some good come from our having lived?

What if we asked our children, What do we want? What if we asked our elders, What do we want? For the seven generations, What is the best we can want?

Do we really want to kill somebody? Do we really want to throw somebody out of our presence? What motivates those kinds of thoughts and is it what makes us feel we are acting out of our best and highest ideals? Which would your mother say? “Beat up someone, honey,” or “Play nice with everyone.” What do we want?

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1146

As writers compose books out of letters, we choose in the instants and so compose our lives out of instants. But we do not compose books out of letters, rather out of ideas which must out. So too we compose our lives out of wholenesses which must out. The difficulty is perhaps just here: we suppose we compose our lives out of instants; when in fact we compose out of the idea that our instants don’t matter, that our lives cannot turn the globe.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1145

People of the song
Are we
Music marks our age
In the air, the wires
On our screens, in our earpieces,
Music is everywhere.
Hear: what do we hear?
What do we to our kind sing?
We can choose
Life,
Together.
We sing to
Ourselves
Not ever
Each other:
Have we mislaid our
Song, hammer and bell?
Does our music bring us together
Or send us apart?
Do we dance or march?
Do we hold each other or do we turn our backs?
Do we see the faces of the others?
Do we hear their hearts?
People of the song are we
But which song
Do we choose?

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1144

A great disintegration is happening in our times. We are so set on chasing the goals of money, as if goals were all there is, all that matters. We are chasing off in a confused mass of different directions, picking coins and bills off the ground, and bumping over people with canes and walkers, people who are working for us, little children and babes in arms, killing old people and children and pet dogs and fish with our oil spilling and radioactive spilling, and we go on thinking this is normal. Is this the norm? Is this what we choose? Is this our standard? Is this our highest and best? Are we capable of becoming human?

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1143

We live in prophetic times: there is a grieving and a moving of large mythic proportions. There is a turning and we can turn history aright. A large globe is rolling; a little pebble can turn it. The globe does not need our might to start the rolling. Yet with all our might of head and heart, we must place the pebble. With intelligence, with love, we can amend its course, the course of this world. Where it goes is not known beforehand, nor does one pebble determine its course for all eons. We must be vigilant; we must ever honor, ever reverence life. Blood, sweat, toil, tears and laughter. And then set more pebbles.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1142

Does compassion make time?

It is a question; it turns back and asks itself of us. It asks if the compassionate person will make time, take time, to be compassionate, but it goes into deeper waters by asking if an act of compassion creates time in the now, if it expands our now.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1141

Every person you meet, bow toward inwardly if not outwardly. Seek out, hear, their divinity, their higher nature.

Five times a day hear someone.

Once a day give a gift to a friend, better yet to a stranger.

Give of your substance, not your surplus.

Think Friend, think Us, think Poetically, think Making whole.

More to come, stay tuned.

Stay tuned.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1140

There is something afoot
In this community
Something for which I have no name
A spirit
Of can do
Of anam cara
Of repair of the earthlings
Of bringing about a realm of sacrality
& we can be afoot in it
This something afoot is of G*d

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1139

Compassion is the highest intelligence.

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1138

When are we going to get sane?
Oil well gushing, killing us
Nuclear reactor exploding,
Poisoning our babies and land
How much of this is necessary
And how much is hubris—
We can bend nature—so we must?

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Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1137

In your old age
Give your children and grandchildren
The joy of the burden of you

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© c 2011, Learning Works, Incorporated. All rights reserved. Easy reprint permissions: 574/291-0022, or by e-mail to mailto:Doug AT FootprintsInTheWind.com. Back issues available at http://www.FootprintsintheWind.com