song-poet voice like child whisper spirit solid as stone faith my shiny marble held out to You with tiny, stained hands it's my only pretty penny copper circle around my need such is the wealth I have to offer in a sum, quite near nothing still I know every treasure gathered up in the folds of my skirt snow white bird feather plucked from blackened ash and gutter soupcon and glimpse Your table waiting in the wilderness.
- a journal of gratitude and record of abundance -
because a rich, rich life is made up savoring the sweetness in the smallest things
- fully living in this sacred now/here moment
- listening for the nightbird's song
- walking with awareness the path of the humanist imperative
- committing every breath to memory
- practicing tonglen
- doing acts of tikkun olam
- loving hungry ghosts
- singing hymns to the dark
- a rambling ee cummings sensibility to punctuation
- the one who believes in you