Face slapping wind.
No answer for our desperation.
Spent, palms open, face to the Sun,
We rise and an elegant breeze brushes our cheek.
Adrift among the whispers
Of Truth, Love and Peace.
It is not what happens to us, but what we
do with it.
by Martha Frisoli Gibson
I wanted to divine the source of my imbalance. Because I was tired of tolerating tightness in my chest. Not that I expected to find fortune cookie messages, or wisdom scrawled on paper in a seabottle, or even a winning lottery ticket, in that blessed Vermont meadow. No. What I sought was a sign from Great Mystery, some kind of knowing, to skillfully steer me in my quest.
by Susan Sanchez
When my life began to feel meaningless, I did not ask Who am I? but rather, How can I find out about myself? I knew I wanted to go on a quest, like the knights of old, but how? How could I, a mother of three, fulfill my obligations and still be true to myself? As a full-time mother and a part-time everything else, I was well into my thirties before I even began trying to find my current. And then, it was just one more thing to try to fit in to the schedule. How was I to juggle mothering, part-time job, volunteer work, significant other's needs, friends' needs--and me? There was not enough time for doing, let alone for reflecting. How would I find time for the sacred when I couldn't even get to the bathroom alone?
by Jan Hodges
Mildred was the one who allowed me entry to other worlds, cultures, and times through the unlimited access she allowed me to the books under her watch. Woody [Guthrie] helped me to feel the experiences of so many others who had inhabited the world in his lifetime. I could sit in that window-seat, look at his house and imagine the sights and sounds he absorbed while growing up in Okemah. Listen to his music and hear how he translated that into an ability to convey the tragedies of the Dust Bowl dwellers, the Okie migration. My heart broke to know he was dying in a New York hospital.
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