FootprintsintheWind.com

Over the hill is when you stop climbing. It cannot be half way through life as some suggest, for the slide down is a much faster (and shorter) ride than the trudge up. Retirement for most marks the end of the climb (although some don’t turn in the paperwork for years after they stop), and the start of the icy downhill. Don’t think you can stay on the summit long. Maybe it is not your summit; maybe there is more to ascend.

:- Doug.

I will not give the whole message in this meeting. It resists; and humans have thick skulls with which they seek to beat it out.

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1535

The highest in us
deserves the respect of
space for not knowing

Please pass it on.

© c 2015, Learning Works, Incorporated. All rights reserved. Easy reprint permissions: 574/291-0022, or by e-mail to mailto:Footprints AT FootprintsInTheWind.com. Back issues available at http://www.FootprintsintheWind.com

I have a message for you, and you will have to work beyond your brain and mind to get it. So will I to eddy it toward you.

:- Doug.

My message may be too fine and subtle for words. How then move it? Maybe get in its stream.

:- Doug.

Of what does my hero’s journey so far consist? What were the tests, the lessons? What the supreme test and what the message to bring back to the community? These will take reflection—thought alone will not suffice.

:- Doug.

Intimately we
are connected with all we
might meet—open heart

:- Doug.

Are you hearing your body—or are you shushing?

:- Doug.

What are the fastest bugs on planet earth? Time flies.

:- Doug.

A busy day, hopefully lived in a relaxing manner.

:- Doug.

Both. Reality is both flowing changing created anew every instant, and appearing as stable solid forms about us. Flowing that endures. Sustained disintegration. Changing patterns. Continual novelty. Energy focusing. Dynamic stability. Openings Closing. Life.

:- Doug.

Who is the subtle being who calls himself me? What are the subtle essences of me?—my tunes, my lights, my colors, my rhythms, my awarenesses, my fascinations, my meeting-ways?

:- Doug.

Will we recognize ourselves before we die?

:- Doug.

Not that anyone has said
my poetry is their favorite
yet am I a major poet
for my poetry treats of
large and essence

:- Doug.

Foundation, yes
Building block, no
Atmosphere, environs, milieu, yes
Smaller bit makes up the larger, no
Love

:- Doug.

My mind is capable of traveling at a hundred thoughts a minute. Resting.

:- Doug.

Our eyes are the world itself: said another way, all creation is one, so creation sees creation. Creation is one, and it was not made but engendered, set out into the world as a dear child, to grow and become who it would be. Delivered as a babe, as though sluiced through a black hole to become our time-space.

:- Doug.

Contribute to life.

:- Doug.

Floaters in the eye
remind
we are seeing through

:- Doug.

Melody harmony rhythm: music
focuses our notes
embracing each one

:- Doug.

Footprints in the Wind^sm # 1534

I saw that all is flow, that we are given to change the flow. We are in this creators, makers of our world. Our world is not concrete, not substantial, and we need not accept anything as given. Our swirling and muddling is all the substance there is.

Please pass it on.

© c 2015, Learning Works, Incorporated. All rights reserved. Easy reprint permissions: 574/291-0022, or by e-mail to mailto:Footprints AT FootprintsInTheWind.com. Back issues available at http://www.FootprintsintheWind.com

How do we see
when we remember our eyes
are the world itself?

:- Doug.

In mouldering, even the dead do something.

:- Doug.