Sunday, August 2, 2015

Open 24/7/365


Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving.  It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come. 

This place holds a soul; enter and ye shall find thee...

Gerard Butler, youth.
... ye, and him.

Gerard Butler, authentic nice man wearing sincere smile.

Be with those who help your being.

I have a duty to make things better. We all do.


Inside a lover's heart
there is another world,
and yet another.

What happened, Miss Simone?

What happened, Miss Simone?

Man in Chair

Man in Chair* by Percy Wyndham Lewis


ROOM Trailer


Lilac by Vadim Dolgov

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Like Light over This Plain

A moth flying into the flame
says with its wingfire, Try this.

The wick with its knotted neck broken
tells you the same. A candle as it diminishes explains,
Gathering more and more is not the way.
Burn, become light and heat and help. Melt.

The ocean sits in the sand letting its lap
fill with pearls and shells, then empty.
A bittersalt taste hums, This.
 The rose purifies its face, drops the soft petals,
shows its thorn, and points.

Wine abandons thousands of famous names,
the vintage years and delightful bouquets,
to run wild and anonymous through your brain.

The flute closes its eyes and gives its lips
to Hamza's emptiness.

Everything begs with the silent rocks
for you to be flung out like light
over this plain, the presence of Shams.

The One Year Love Language Minute - Aug 1 - 31

Friday, July 31, 2015

The One Year Love Language Minute - July 24 to July 31

Starting a new series. This book has been sitting on my Kindle for long awhile now. I'll find July 24th and start there. A few prayers won't hurt us, right? Keep in mind he's a marriage counselor and preacher so this is heavy on religion which won't hurt us, right? Feel free to skip without judgment.

The building blocks of relationships, such as good communication, respect, unconditional love, and forgiveness, are fundamental to any relationship. Whether your relationships are strong or struggling, stable or challenging, the words within this series I hope will encourage you and give anyone renewed joy with each other. May your relationships be strengthened this year on out as we try to focus on living and growing together.

I will never drop your hand or leave the door.

Set your baggage down and come back. Somebody cares.


Dirk by Thomas Metcalf


Linford by Thomas Metcalf


Spotlight trailer

Sony Picks Up Mark Ruffalo, Michael Keaton Movie ‘Spotlight’ in Multiple Countries

The Soul's Friend

Listen to your essential self, the Friend.
When you feel longing, be patient,
and also prudent, moderate with eating and drinking.

Be like a mountain in the wind.
Do you notice how little it moves?

There are sweet illusions that arrive
to lure you away. Make some excuse to them.
I have indigestion, or I need to meet my cousin.

You fish, the baited hook may be fifty
or even sixty gold pieces, but is it really worth
your freedom in the ocean?

When traveling, stay close to your bag.
I am the bag that holds what you love.
You can be separated from me.

Live carefully in the joy of this friendship.
Don't think, But those others love me too.

Some invitations sound like the fowler's whistle
to the quail, friendly,
but not quite how you remember
the call of your soul's Friend.

Infinitely Polar Bear

Infinitely Polar Bear

Review: Infinitely Polar Bear

Thursday, July 30, 2015


Berries by Alethea


Banana by Hazel Green

Tell your story... not your history

She rolls her dinner knife nervously across from her date. The gulf between them isn't space but silence.


Joseph is back.
And if you don't feel in yourself
the freshness of Joseph,
be Jacob.

Weep, and then smile.
Do not pretend to know something
you have not experienced.

There is a necessary dying,
and then Jesus is breathing again.

Very little grows on jagged rock.
Be ground. Be crumbled,
so wildflowers will come up
where you are.

You have been stony for too many years.
Try something different. Surrender.

Steve Jobs

Steve Jobs trailer

The Standford Prison Experiment

Review: The Standford Prison Experiment

The Standford Prison Experiment Trailer

Wednesday, July 29, 2015


October by Jimmy Drum

Tell your story... not your history

"I was at extremes always. Very controlling, then chaotic. Silent, then rageful. Judgmental and then not giving a damn. I would go from one extreme to to the other. Because I was so hard on myself, I threw the baby out with the bathwater, and one or times too often. The regret it. In general, my way of life was one extreme or another--trying to be the best or worst, shut down or acting out. After and in between acting out, getting some god-awful thing that needed a doctor's attention or badly hurt, I would swear off women entirely and go into acting in mode, shut down, nothing. I was acting in or acting out throughout my life until I got sent here, well, there. Many years of the same pattern, over and over. Terrified of what was going on, I would decide to shut down and stay that way--no risks, isolated, shut down, rigid. I would get into rigid rule mode setting for her and me in order to control the chaos. While acting out in rage, I made no pretense of "normal." My job in was the "straight" part of my double life. I went from totally denying my needs to being excessively needy. It was a continuous cycle throughout my life."
"And now you're standing here chatting with me."
"This is the stuff you want me to say, right?"
"Not until you want to."

Storied Mind blog

Storied Mind blog

Summer Storm

Summer Storm by Jimmy Drum

A Cleared Site

The presence rolling through again
clears the shelves and shuts down shops.

Friend of the soul, enemy of the soul,
why do you want mine?

Bring tribute from the village.
But the village is gone in your flood.

That cleared site is what I want.
Live in the opening where there is no door
to hide behind. Be your absence.
In that state everything is essential.

The rest of this must be said in silence
because of the enormous difference
between light and the words
that try to say light.

Irrational Man

Review: Irrational Man

Irrational Man Trailer


Toronto Film Festival 2015

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Up & Over

Up & Over* by Philippe Fernandex


Thinking* by Licio Passon

The End of the Tour

 Review: The End of the Tour

The End of the Tour Trailer


Review Legend

Legend Trailer

A Frog Deep in the Presence

Since you have left, death draws us in.
A fish quivers on rough sand until its soul leaves.

For those of us still living, the grave
feels like an escape-hole back to the ocean.

This is no small thing, the pulling of a part
back into the whole. Muhammad used to weep
for his native land. To children who do not know
where they are from, Istanbul and Yemen
are similar. They want their nurses.

When I close my mouth, this poetry stops,
but a frog deep in the presence
cannot keep his mouth closed.
He breathes and the sound comes.

A mystic cannot hide his breathing light-burst.
I reach this point, and the pen breaks,
as Sinai once split open
for the generosity it was given.

Monday, July 27, 2015


Resignation by Eleanor Ettinger Gatherer


Decisions by Eleanor Ettinger Gatherer


 Review Southpaw

Southpaw Trailer

The Face

So the frowning teacher came and left.
He is very consistent with that vinegar face.

But maybe he shows that to us and smiles with others.
Such a beautiful teacher, but so sour.
He is a pure standard for tartness.

Consider how your face is a source of light.
If you enter a grieving room
with the Friend in your eyes,
light will bloom there
according to the laws of sweet and sour.

Locked in a cell, you grow bitter, but out walking
in morning sunlight with friends,
how does that taste?

There are exceptions. Joseph caught the rose
fragrance down in his abandoned wellhole.

In this quietness now
I feel someone seated on my right
like a kindness that will never leave.

Sunday, July 26, 2015


There is a hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox
is stuffed full of anything, no music comes.
But if brain and belly are burning clean
with fasting, every moment a new song
comes out of the fire.

The fog clears and new energy
makes you run up the steps in front of you.
Be emptier, and cry like reed instruments cry.
Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.

When you are full of food and drink, an ugly metal
status sits where your spirit should. When you fast,
good habits gather like friends who want to help.
Fasting is Solomon's ring. Don't give it
to some illusion and lose your power, but even if you have,
if you have lost all will and control,
they come back when you fast, like soldiers, appearing
out of the ground, pennants flying above them.

A table descends to your tents, Jesus' table.
Expect to see it when you fast, this table spread
with other food, better than the broth of cabbages.

Saturday, July 25, 2015


The way of love is not
a subtle argument.

The door there
is devastation.

Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.
How do they learn that?

They fall, and falling,
they are given wings.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Tell your story... not your history

Down by the waterfront off the beaten path near the bridge Garrett presses his foot against the brick wall then sinks back onto it to brace himself saying, "I think I emit some frequency only women addicted to lost causes can hear as I agonize over existential despair and the futility of life bleating like a spoiled, self-pitying narcissist appalled by the disconnect between my true self and others’ idealized projections of me."
"This is progress. This is self-truth," Rick responds.
"Yes, life isn't a comedy. But you need to tell this to group, man. When you're ready of course, and not until then."

The Presence of Light

The Presence of Light by Noe Perez

The Tree of Awe

How does part of the world leave the world?
How can wetness leave water?

Don't try to put out a fire by throwing on
more fire. Don't wash a wound with blood.

No matter how fast you run, your shadow
more than keeps up. Sometimes it's in front.
Only full, overhead sun diminishes your shadow.

But that shadow has been serving you.
What hurts you blesses you.

Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.

I can explain this, but it would break the glass cover
on your heart, and there is no fixing that.

You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.

When from that tree, feathers and wings
sprout on your soul, be quieter than a dove.
Don't open your mouth for even a cooooo.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Trees Afar

Trees Afar* by Noe Perez

Sarah's Gate

Sarah's Gate by Martin Poole

Putting the Green in Greenhouse

Putting the Green in Greenhouse by Tom Buechner

Tell your story... not your history

"I think I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to retrieve all the opportunities I threw away then. You're not the only one whose done stupid things to himself," Rick says breaking the silence between them almost reading his mind. "Just know you'll get on with your life and gifts will come into it."

Betrayal into Trust

When school and mosque and minaret
get torn down, then dervishes
can begin their community.

Not until faithfulness
turns to betrayal
and betrayal into trust
can any human being
become part of the truth.

The image above was taken at a Rumi reading
in November 2007, by Coleman Barks,
who is seated just to the left of the dervishes.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Tell your story... not your history

It's a valid question she might ask herself as she too reevaluates her life feeling she needs to increase defenses, bolt down her hatches, pull down her mast and idle for a spell. Twilight arrived. She steps outside and looks up one last time thinking, "There were whole civilizations who believe they could see their destiny in the stars."

Tell your story... not your history

"Walk with me," Rick says nodding toward the door. Garrett pulls on the brim of his baseball hat pulling it down to block the glare of the overly lit room saying, "Why is this place bright like Target?"
"Dunno," Rick says pushing through the glass door Garrett entered when he made the turn drawn by something then saw her as if it happened minutes ago only it's forever ago now resigning he may never seeing her again. Besides he's priorities within priorities now: him.

We're fully bonded.

I broke through your defenses and will again. I can't have you doubting yourself.


Rebirth by Rebecca Fitchett

Alter Ego

Alter Ego by Slawek Gruca

Neither This nor That

I may be clapping my hands,
but I do not belong to a crowd of clappers.
I am neither this nor that. I am not part of a group
that loves flute music, or one that loves gambling,
or one that loves drinking wine.

Those who live in time, descended from Adam,
made of earth and water, I am not part of that.

Do not listen to what I say as though these words
came from an inside and went to an outside.

Your faces are very beautiful, but they are wooden cages.
You had better run from me. My words are fire.

I have nothing to do with being famous,
or with making grand judgments or feeling shame.

I borrow nothing. I do not want anything
from anybody. I flow through all human beings.
Love is my only companion.

When union happens, my speech goes inward,
toward Shams. At that meeting
the secrets of language are no longer secret.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015


Clover by Robert Anderson

Three Black Hens

Three Black Hens by Natalie Wargin

Tell your story... not your history

"Volatility is part of the poison."  She can't read further. Closing her Kindle she stuffs it into her purse. That last sentence left her feeling an incredible sense of helplessness for the character, because after awhile there won't be a cornerstone left standing. He will in turn explode taking with him the center. If he stays on course nothing will be left. Her question is can anyone stop him from raging the machine? Convince them they're more than a roughneck guy who got lucky? "How could someone so enthusiastic end up so lethargic?" she asks herself.

It's Afternoon

 Speak quietly
and say nothing that is not true.

It's afternoon. We need to be quiet
for a while. Speaking would be
such an orchard to walk in,
if we could do it without alphabet and sounds.

These stories and images and conversations
through which we try to show the inner life,
Husam and I,
they are like a donkey's head
that we carry from the skinning pit
to the kitchen. Let further changes come.

I give word-shape to this poetry.
Husam supplies the essence.

No, that's wrong. Both come from Husam,
Ziya-Haqq, the sun that is one
with earth and sky, one with intention and heart.
Husam, when my spirit completely recognizes yours,
they recall our being one.

The Science of "Inside Out"

The Science of "Inside Out"

Tell your story... not your history

"Real spoons," Garrett says after licking and dropping his in a metal bin for used utensils noticing its sound intensified. Rick keeps quiet. After a few sips to the sweet coffee Garrett offers wistfully, "Destiny is the name the fortunate give to their fortunes."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That means people never call bad things destiny."

Monday, July 20, 2015

Tell your story... not your history

Forcing her attention back to her Kindle the page populates the screen on touch to a book called "The Diplomat." A book about a doomed man ordering his career destroyed before withdrawal, and a woman's diplomatic attempt to convince him not to execute the plan. "It's unbearable. Even if it fits no strategic purpose it must be flattened."

Tell your story... not your history

There was an almost electrical charge, as Rick has put it – and a subsequent deep change in Garrett’s being. Rick was full of hope but no signal came from Garrett he that he was ready to approach the podium.

Libros del Pasaje

Libros del Pasaje by Cheryl de los Reyes Cruz

A Poet

A Poet by Celeste Maia

People Want You to Be Happy

People want you to be happy.
Don't keep serving them your pain.

If you could untie your wings
and free your soul of jealousy,

you and everyone around you
would fly up like doves.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Love for Certain Work

Traveling is as refreshing for some
as staying at home is for others.

Solitude in a mountain place
fills with companionship for this one,
and weariness for that one.

This person loves being in charge
of the workings of a community.

This other one loves the ways
heated iron can be shaped with a hammer.

Each has been given a strong desire
for certain work, a love for those motions,
and all motion is love.

The way sticks and pieces of dead grass and leaves
shift about in the wind
and with the directions of rain and puddle-water
on the ground, those motions
are all following the love
they have been given.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Paris at Dawn

Paris at Dawn by Liudmila Kondakova

Tell your story... not your history

The buzzing vibe in the overly lit room by ceiling fixtures is more audible now made inviting by the chinking spoons from vintage White Tower mugs. The thick ceramic mugs were donated by an anonymous sponsor. The lights nearly blind Garrett while he scans the room for his sponsor Rick.

Tell your story... not your history

Before the bus completes loading all passengers at the busy downtown connection stop she looks back for the name of the place Garrett entered then settles into her seat wiping out her Kindle to read all the way home.

Looking into the Creek

The way the soul is with the senses
and the mind, is like a creek.

When desire-weeds grow thick,
your intelligence cannot flow,
and soul-creatures stay hidden.

But sometimes a flooding comes
that runs so strong
it clears the clogged stream,
as though with God's hand.

No longer weeping and frustrated,
your being grows as powerful
as your wantings were before.

Laughing and satisfied,
that masterful current
lets soul-creatures appear.

You look down,
and it's lucid dreaming.

The gates made of light
swing open. You see in.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Tell your story... not your history

Feeling a cool air-conditioned blast hit his flushed cheeks brings him back to the moment. Inside walking the narrow florescent lighted hallway to his group meeting Garrett thinks, "We all worry about going mad, don't we. How would we know? Those of us that live in our minds anyway."

Tell your story... not your history

Making note to add money to her fare card she bites her bottom lip frustrated with attempts to get her soft bills accepted in the slot as the bus takes off.


Drag by Zack Zdrale


Branches by Mavis Smith

The Observer

The Observer by David M Bowers

The Oldest Thirst There Is

Give us gladness that connects
with the Friend, a taste of the quick.

You that make a cypress strong
and jasmine jasmine.

Give us the inner listening
that is a way in itself
and the oldest thirst there is.

Do not measure it out with a cup.
I am a fish. You are the moon.

You cannot touch me, but your light
fills the ocean where I live.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Tell your story... not your history

Waking past as Garrett hears the familiar beeping that releases the door his eyes lock with hers fishing for bus fare.

Who Says Words with My Mouth

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere,
I am sure of that, and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place, I'll be completely
sober. Meanwhile, I'm lke a bird from another continent, 
sitting in this aviary. The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip
of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord,
and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it. When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

Shams Tabriz, if you would show your face
to me again, I could flee the imposition of this life.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

The Breaking of Father Callahan - Cemetery Dance by Andrew Sterrett Conklin