Saturday, October 31, 2009


A medieval wench, a bee, a jaguar, a witch, a pair of zombies, a dead president, the Flintstones and three waitresses in aprons and caps made travel more entertaining today, especially on BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit). This photo is from a Denver International Airport window. Happy Halloween!

Tuesday, October 27, 2009


from mural in Excelsior district of San Francisco


the railroad worker/widower in his wheel chair
sneaks a kiss
and tenderly pushes the
nurse/widow in her wheel chair
down the hollow hallway
to the nursing home dining area
she giggles
life shining in the present

listening to the silence
after a quiet rain

Sunday, October 25, 2009


quotes from “Faith & Ecstasy”
By Nicholas Schmidle
Smithsonian
December 2008

Sufism is not a sect, like Shiism or Sunnism, but rather the mystical side of Islam — a personal, experiential approach to Allah, which contrasts with the prescriptive, doctrinal approach of fundamentalists like the Taliban. It exists throughout the Muslim world (perhaps most visibly in Turkey, where whirling dervishes represent a strain of Sufism), and its millions of followers generally embrace Islam as a religious experience, not a social or political one. Sufis represent the strongest indigenous force against Islamic fundamentalism…

The “four friends”… taught Sufism [in the early 13th century]. They eschewed fire-and-brimstone sermons, and rather than forcibly convert those belonging to other religions, they often incorporated local traditions into their own practices… Qalander [one of the four friends] “played the role of integrator,” says Ghulam Rabbani Agro, a Sindhi historian who has written about Qalander. “He wanted to take the sting out of religion.” …

I hadn’t been able to find a clear, succinct definition of Sufism anywhere, so I asked [Rohail] Hyatt for one. “I can explain to you what love is until I turn blue in the face. I can take two weeks to explain everything to you,” he said. “But there is no way I can make you feel it. Sufism initiates that emotion in you. And through that process, religious experience becomes totally different: pure and absolutely nonviolent.”

Saturday, October 24, 2009


follow the birdsong
accept the pink cake
and tendernesses that come your way





Friday, October 23, 2009







Cheyenne, Wyoming
May, 2009

Thursday, October 22, 2009



skylight

Wednesday, October 21, 2009


I'd been at it all day, cleaning out rotting sweaters, stained saucers, boxes and boxes of light bulbs, mildewed luggage and finally, tonight, I was angry at my mom for dying and leaving what seems such an impossible mess. Then I felt bad for being angry when she had been so sick and was no longer here. Just at that point, in excavating the darkest, stickiest, stinkiest corner, the clean, colorful cosmetic bags started to appear. A shiny plastic yellow one, a black one, a tweedy brown one with turquoise trim, a striped one, a swimming-pool blue one, one of bright red satin and gauze, each hiding in its original department store bag.

Then came a bag with a shoe box and a store receipt. In it was a pair of black suede ankle boots that looked as though they'd never been taken out after purchase. Yesterday, I was feeling wistful about some black suede ankle boots I once had.

These fit just fine.

After bags of hospital leftovers of gauze pads, tape, and baby shampoo, after the cosmetic bags and the shoes, there was a small, steel, index card box, the top scarred and caked with mouse droppings. I gingerly lifted it, brought it into the light and opened it. Full of letters and photos from me to my parents over twenty years ago, they report on the arrival of our adopted son and his first two years with us, followed by the arrival of our second son. Each photo looks clear and bright, as though just printed, as though love is a surprise, always new and alive...

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


There's what your dad wants from you, and your mom.
There's what your teachers expect of you.
There's what your friends think you should be doing, and what the newscasters on TV think everybody should be doing.
There's what your community thinks you should be doing, your kids, your grandpa, your religous leader, your doctor, your boss. Then there's your spouse, and what he or she thinks you should be doing.

What do you want to do?

Monday, October 19, 2009






I've read as one grows more integrated and aware through meditative practices, night-time dreaming can diminish, or disappear completely. Easterners might see such a development as positive.

Western researchers report that depriving people of REM sleep (when most dreams occur) creates disorientation and daytime hallucinatory experiences, which they see as a matter of concern, an experience to be avoided.

Perhaps the consciousness-altering effects could be described as both rich and risky.


(This sidewalk in Huntsville, Alabama was the source of the leaf photos posted these last few days.)

Sunday, October 18, 2009


Watch how a cloud floats, how its parts may travel at different speeds.
See how a heavy bee with tiny wings flies.
Note how a moth hides in the open against the bark of a tree.
Note where a cat hides.
See how a caterpillar walks,
how a doe cares for her newborn.
Does a maple tree sound different in fall than in spring?
Does the leaf of an oak descend to the ground like the leaf of a gingko?
See how the mockingbird flares his wings, again and again, and startles his prey from their hiding places.
See how the wind moves each tree in a stand differently, and yet, together.
Smell a night that's all clouds, and one that's all stars.

Saturday, October 17, 2009


knocking at the locked doors within


The hinges squeal and
slowly swing open -
Then
another door here
and one here and here
open and open -
The wind of the sea flows
through a clear mazing passageway
chasing stale air and secrets
from compartments long locked
one from the other.

Knocking at the doors
of the chambers within -
What I'm trying to say
is that one friend
crosses a state line to visit -
Jesus comes to town
on Buddha's bicycle -
and we're eating trail mix
and pecan pie -
life one sweet chaos
where black and white say
hello, and
hello

Friday, October 16, 2009


We were already late, a little lost ourselves, when we rescued a frightened corgi from the freeway today-

Its fur was damp, and smelled of dog. Its rabies tag was four years old. Its left front paw was torn. We found a rural vet clinic whose staff awkwardly accepted the dog so we could continue down the road.

We were now even more late, tracing the same stretch of highway a third time, but these inconveniences became of little concern because we felt certain we'd had our priorities straight.

Thursday, October 15, 2009


tree bares its slender shoulders
leaf by leaf -
rain transforms
each leaf with love

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Thursday, October 8, 2009



I'll be away from 4ozs for a few days, but I do plan to return.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009


Years ago, I dreamed I was painting on one face of a 5-sided structure in the middle of a plaza. The panel was taller than I was and I stretched high, very high, up close to the canvas, using my whole body to paint. And it was a marvelous feeling, the physical expression.

That's what the practice of Shintaido is like: the sense of creating, of opening, of physical well-being. Though you learn basic forms that you repeat again and again, every repetition is a new expression, a new painting, a new merging with who and what's around you, a new reflection, a new offering. You open all the doors and windows with your work. You make space. You invite connection. That feels very, very good.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


Beyond understanding – the
immortal song of a grasshopper on
a warm summer day

s. r. lavin

Monday, October 5, 2009


Oakland bumper sticker:
Don’t get even, get odd.

Sunday, October 4, 2009


A subdued face gazed from the rural sky and I was startled, as though I'd never seen the moon before.

Saturday, October 3, 2009


The man approached me as I walked down Adeline in the sunshine. How you doin’, he asked. He had the voice of a person whose troubles had not hardened, but softened him. He said he liked that I smiled. Smiles give so much, and they’re for free! A smile costs nothing at all.

He said he'd just had some teeth pulled, and it hurts to smile, but he wasn’t going to stop. Thanks for smiling, he called out as he crossed the street to the other side. And I thanked him.

A smile costs nothing at all.

Friday, October 2, 2009


Transparency is the process of living life in the open, no secrets. It’s a challenging path, but a liberating one. We can be ourselves without being on guard about what this person or that might find out about us.

I don't know if it's possible to reach. We may be able to become truthful with others, but can we be truthful to ourselves? There's always something we're blind to, like how our new pants fit in the back, or spinach stuck to a front tooth. It’s helpful to have a friend or a mirror we can trust.

Thursday, October 1, 2009


The saints wear strange disguises,
and loan us their strength
or a paper clip.
They hum and whistle
and stand up tall,
or rounded over a tilted cane.
They whisper apologies
for the world's more calloused inhabitants,
or holler a count
and make you jump across wet grass
turning your dwindling courage
into something of more weight, that's also more light.
They tell truth that makes you laugh,
or they stand silent at a distance,
unarmed guardians.
Goodness in its many shapes,
the sweet, the scary, the child-like,
the bold chest thumpers
the costumed and the camouflaged.
We see
the terrorizing few humans
who only get no,
who build roadblocks, who explode bridges.
We might miss the saints completely
if they were not so clever
at finding a crevice
and curling into the hearts
of the injured, the bewildered
the lost not quite found.