“What if the world is holding its breath – 
waiting for you to take the place that only you can fill?”
David Whyte

Why, in the middle of your busy life, would you pause to read poetry?

Because good poetry points us to what truly matters, which is why I use poetry so much in my work.  A good poem offers sanctuary, reminding us of the necessity, power and beauty of contemplation.  In a world hell-bent on filling space with activity and silence with noise, this is a subversive act.  So slow down, digest a poem, let it take you by the hand.  Allow yourself be touched, even changed.  Indeed, poetry has been know to save lives.  Nuff said.  Onward!

Image: Paul Cezanne, Still life, pitcher and fruit

January 2019 ~ Red Brocade





There’s no better way to enter this or any other year than with a poetics of hospitality.
That, and the refusal to be claimed by anyone or anything that poisons your heart.

The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.

Let’s go back to that.
Rice? Pine Nuts?
Here, take the red brocade pillow.
My child will serve water
to your horse.

No, I was not busy when you came!
I was not preparing to be busy.
That’s the armor everyone put on
to pretend they had a purpose
in the world.

I refuse to be claimed.
Your plate is waiting.
We will snip fresh mint
into your tea.

Naomi Shihab Nye from 19 Varieties of Gazelle
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

By |January 1st, 2019|Tags: , |

December 2018 – Poetry





A poem full of clarity and wisdom  to bring 2018 to a close.  Keep on dancin’, friends.
And don’t take the title too literally or you’ll lose the poetry in “Poetry”! 


Its door opens near. It’s a shrine
by the road. It’s a flower in the parking lot
of the Pentagon, it says, “Look around,
listen. Feel the air.” It interrupts
international telephone lines with a tune.
When traffic lines jam, it gets out
and dances on the bridge. If great people
get distracted by fame they forget
this essential kind of breathing
and they die inside their gold shell.
When caravans cross deserts
it is the secret treasure hidden under the jewels.

Sometimes commanders take us over and they
try to impose their whole universe;
how to succeed by daily calculation.
I can’t eat that bread.

By William Stafford from The Way It Is
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

By |December 4th, 2018|Tags: , |

November 2018 ~ The Law that Marries All Things





Within true law, everything rises and falls together, inextricably interdependent.
The outlaw’s folly is to imagine this unified whole can be divided.

The cloud is free only
to go with the wind.

The rain is free
only in falling.

The water is free only
in its gathering together,

in its downward courses,
in its rising into the air.

In law is rest
if you love the law,
if you enter, singing, into it
as water in its descent.

Or song is truest law,
and you must enter singing;
it has no other entrance.

It is the great chorus
of parts. The only outlawry
is in division.

Whatever is singing
is found, awaiting the return
of whatever is lost.

Meet us in the air
over the water,
sing the swallows.

Meet me, meet me,
the redbird sings,
here here here here.

By Wendell Berry from Collected Poems, 1957-1982
Copyrighted material; for educational/therapeutic purposes only.

A reflection to take into your day:
What does this poem say to you about “living by the law?”  What does it mean to “love the law?”

By |November 1st, 2018|Tags: , |

Lucky’s Corner


Here’s a tasty morsel of poetic medicine from Lucky.
Down the hatch!

“Be a songbird,
not a parrot.”

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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