You are the beached seal on the long yellow towel spread out between restlessness and mundanity

Tuesday poem: Sand by P.S. Cottier


“I thought about one of my favourite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now. I was never not coming here. This was never not going to happen.”

Elizabeth Gilbert

foto – sand at urunga sea lido

One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered.

Michael J. FoxDSCF5907

The Bridge Builder

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, at the evening, cold and grey,
To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fear for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim, near,
“You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again will pass this way;
You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head:
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today,
A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

This chasm, that has been naught to me,
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.”

By Will Allen Dromgoole

What will your legacy be?

I never felt the urge to jump off a bridge, but there are times I have wanted to jump out of my life, out of my skin.

― David Levithan, The Realm of Possibility



David Hallett

something has unlocked
to pronounce the beautiful words
that were frozen in my mouth,
lost in my mind, always in my heart/
(I had put aside)
to cry out war and tragedy and oppression –
she left those sad words behind
she left the machines and the crowd
to join the dreamcatchers in the mist of her mountain den –
where the sky walks the land
where the sunlight is singing
and the water is singing a river of beautiful words
falling through her valley/
fingers of water weaving transparent
through the twine of vine
falling through her hair,
raining down brow and breasts and toes
where she stands barefoot
under the great tree
and the immense forest breathing around her/
and the day and the night caress each other
like a man and a woman in love,
and the cool lips of the night
whisper time is not stone
and there is a bridge,
a bridge leaps the waters and the tower of trees,
a bridge of dreams and words,
its path is fern and flower and golden rain,
and always, always
the bridge is love.

I was born wandering between two worlds, one dead, the other powerless to be born, and have made, in a curious way, the worst of both.

Aldous HuxleyDSCF5916

The Meaning of Existence

Everything except language
knows the meaning of existence.
Trees, planets, rivers, time
know nothing else. They express it
moment by moment as the universe.

Even this fool of a body
lives it in part, and would
have full dignity within it
but for the ignorant freedom
of my talking mind.

Poems the Size of Photographs, 2002


nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose.


Mary Shelley, Frankenstein



“We are not going to change the whole world, but we can change ourselves and feel free as birds. We can be serene even in the midst of calamities and, by our serenity, make others more tranquil. Serenity is contagious. If we smile at someone, he or she will smile back. And a smile costs nothing. We should plague everyone with joy. If we are to die in a minute, why not die happily, laughing?
― Swami Satchidananda, The Yoga Sutras

foto- urunga sea lido jan 2 2013