My prayer from the final session of Riding the Phoenix Part I…

There’s so much I’ve yet to discover about Who I am and what life is about and what is truly important. Just when I think I figured something out, I discover a whole new piece about me. 

Yesterday I never really thought about my energy field or that my thoughts really do attract companion thoughts. But today, now, I imagine only activity swirling around me like sparks of sacred light. I’m a sparkler that can start endless fires of activity with just a thought, or a word, or a whisper of my energy. I am all that power, and something in me always knew that. 

No wonder I found decision so overwhelming. What fire did I want to start? Where should I direct the sparks of my life? Would I
start big fires or little ones? Fires require air, and all that air comes from the great soul of humanity. We breathe it together.

No secrets have we from each other. So what I figured out is that I require the breath of all beings to animate the sparks I set into motion, and I breathe with all living beings. We are the light, or we engage the darkness. 

I’m beginning to understand the rules. It is not everyone for themselves, but we are all in this together, because we are all of this together. So hover over me Lord. Help me to extend the space of my small and brief life to include the grace of all of us who breathe together. Amen.

With Love,



calligraphy by Pat Buttice


do it together

with the whole village

cultivate diversity and unity

Women Talk







Today’s phone call was a triangle

between sister and daughter and myself

shone with understanding

echoed with acceptance


in NY and MA



Through the windows of the kitchen…

Ruby by Lea Lyon

Through the windows of the kitchen…

These were the only windows that side of the house.
Opened on a narrow alley,
but to the west was a garden
with flowers nurtured by my Italian dad.

Through the panes,
we spied the siblings riding their two wheelers
with a screaming appetite for 6PM supper.

the aroma of fresh spaghetti sauce
warmed our nostrils, piqued our saliva.

Six places were set, equally welcoming.
The youngest child was under the table
waiting to surprise someone.
We always pretended to play the script!

Ate .
Cleaned up.
Finished the dishes.

Through the window,


Definition #57 Promise

Horse Tail Lights

Horse Tail Lights

Promissory Note

by Galway Kinnell

If I die before you
which is all but certain
then in the moment
before you will see me
become someone dead
in a transformation
as quick as a shooting star’s
I will cross over into you
and ask you to carry
not only your own memories
but mine too until you
too lie down and erase us
both together into oblivion.

“Promissory Note” by Galway Kinnell, from Strong Is Your Hold. © Houghton Mifflin, 2006. Reprinted with permission.

Meeting Kavi at Ginger’sHouse

Meeting Kavi at Ginger's House

Meeting Kavi at Ginger’s House

I like the way,
at Ginger’s house
we took turns
around the circle.

First there was Kavi,
17 months old,
circling the rooms:
his carry-case abreast.

He crooned-
and delicately chewed
the cranberries and nuts
to Indian/African tunes.

From 17 months to
77 years old we each
took turns being
aunties, uncles, cousins, moms and dads.

Spoke of opera, museums,
moving films we’ve made
created from a place
that played and sang and danced:

“How best can we take care
of earth, and man, and woman?
Teach our tiny ones to care,
discover life and share?”

always in this circle.

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