. . . hour glass of perception. Turned time and again.

100102 03:36
The sky is a wonder this night becoming morning.
I celebrate my unconscious choice to live in New Mexico.
I am conscious that I will soon transition to a greater vision and experience. An amplification of all that awakens me with astonishing vigor and enthusiasm. If they be a dialog with myself, Hosanna, and if with the numinous Hurray! Works either way for me. The latter is mo betta.
Seek and it can be found and in the finding ask and you will receive.
My eyes are moist and my laughter profound. I write for the child I was knowing others like me who were injured. We lived, then unconscious, our flow in time towards now.
To speak to plants and animals is a pleasure from infancy. Answered now are all my ‘whys’ and dreams reconciled in reality. There is no one in the Universe I would trade places with in expectation of being better or more blest.
In some curious why I draw closer to my beloved friend St. Francis in his adoration of Lady Poverty knowing her as Our Lady Wisdom.
There are phrases and words, constructs of systemic thought that formerly short circuited my attention. Ideas and ideals that I fled until they became personal truths.
Flashing across the screen of my attention: I saw my son riding his bicycle through traffic laughing, no hands, arms folded across his chest, myself helpless to protect him should he fall. He didn’t and I cherish that more than those brief moments of his death.
So perhaps it is Lady Wisdom darning my holey sock of poverty now.
Prayer is better found in simple activities and requests. I think the Rolling Stones said it best, “you don’t always get what you ask for, but what you need . . . “
. . . I had a vision, a painting actually, two people kneeling in the streets praying in desolation and thought “Confessional” it was in answer my gratitude upon awaking blessing God for all my life.
There is an infinite wealth to awaken when I do in silence to see and hear the things I do alone. The more I explore the world before, during and after me the more I understand and accept my humble role as a grain of sand in the hour glass of perception. Turned time and again.
Odd I should remember now the night equally radiant illuminated by the full moon so long ago and being told about a plant that blooms once and then dies--a yucca? I accepted that abstraction as I do myself now.