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Mar 11 · 221
Riding Tides
​Much of spirituality
tips its cap at
surfing well,
the changes
of a human life

Reading the tides;
our internal compass

pointing at the outer world
following suit

Aligning with the cycles
of nature
by
hugging trees
while howling at the moon

Witnessing the earth
while
trying to be
brave

Setting our leaves free;

Making space
​for Spring to bloom again
There is a saying, "You can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf" This poem is a nod to it.
Mar 2 · 55
Circling Back
We moved a few hours south of the rainforest
still holding on up in the native corners
of the still wild NW

A few hours south of where I slid into
this life

& upon our return

he said,
“if you make it 3 years you’ll stay forever”

you either turn from the rain
or rush in joy
into the damp
clean
face of it
Feb 3 · 479
The Weight of Leaves
Each day
The weight of a leaf

Falling
into a pile
we gather
up
at the end

Each leaf is 5 grams;
but the pile
weighs
hundreds of
pounds

No weight in our hand
Simply the feeling
Of crisp form

Its corners, ridges,
And variegation
of hues

Some days we conclude in prayer,
“Oh, thank God it’s over,”

Yet it counts,
this one leaf,
filling our bin of days

Experiencing
Ourselves,

One leaf at a time.
All the days fill the leaf pile of experiences that are our life. They may feel light and mundane, yet they add up.
Jan 6 · 648
older One
As legs hang on rusty hinges
the strides of doorways
lesser long

wisdom crisps its palms 
up to the hearths of winter
on walks

Older finds joy 
watching little jelly movers
under the snowy leaves 
of autumn's fall

There is freedom 
in holding back;
experiencing exuberance
perched high in cedar
witnessing the now moments
of a uranian world
from a fifth dimensional view

Knowing that Love
sourced from the heart
affects the observed
just as true.
The Spiritual benefits of moving into the slow lane
Dec 2020 · 121
One Drop In
Fog blankets the stage

a bark trail underfoot,
made soft by the mist;

trees as
cloud
umbrellas

the silent dog
matching footfalls
four and two

under a downpour
of such
volumes

transmuting us
back
to formless
bliss

that alchemy

of singular
water drops
into
puddle.

-MJT
A study on the shift from duality into Oneness.

"Individuality, in Emerson’s view, is secondary to unity. Each of us is inseparable from all people, all plants and animals, the Earth, our solar system, and the entire cosmos." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Dec 2020 · 161
Listen To Be Wise
A Poem on hearing the voice of nature

The open field
Bordered by firs elders
Covered in blooming
Lemon clover
Left space

Inside this vast openness
I set down my burdens

My worries
& discomforts
And the burlap
they rode in on

What was left was
clear azure sky

Holding a new sound
authored by birds

Toby’s
soft breath
Inside this dome of space

Oh most definitely,
dogs speak

in the secret language
translated by those
who love them beyond
logic

The sun shoots a cannon
across the ridgeline of the trees
paralleling the emerald horizon

Pouring golden syrup over the eastern trunks
of exhausted autumn trees

The sunrise casts a spotlight
over
this magical stage

pulling back the curtain
over the
enchanted valley floor
There is a transformative effect that never yields when we spend time outdoors.
Nov 2020 · 203
All You Need
At the beach house
you don’t need much
an old mossy table
the boards
collaged in pine needles
a firepit
domed by scorched
trees huddling
stitched together
as one quilted canopy
hoping for wisdom below
A snappy fire
fanning air
that
grows crisp
and birds
the birds
oh the birds
their songs above
always their songs
around.
A Poem on the magic inside a simple drive to the coast
Nov 2020 · 292
Filling In Chasms
Sunrise quiet
hiking through
the dropping blush of autumn

the morning after election day

inside the trails of forested
trees that were not allowed
a vote

coming upon a canyon
splitting
the un-United States
down the spine

pondering the illusion
of human separation

We reach down and *****
a bridge
sweeping
over the chasm

Next,
we tie a rope swing
to the oak branches above

and unmoor the canoes
from the cedar docks below

Americans stand on
each side,
holding up
similar signs
clear in
truth and oneness

our shared desires
and basic needs

The signs
reading;

Freedom
Safety
Health
Respect
Home
Work
Joy
&
repeating grandly,
over
and over;
**
Love.

Slowly,
as the drops
of dew transform
to puddles

and the sun
lifts to crown
us all in lemon light

we raise up
our shovels
and begin
the work of
filling in the
imaginary
canyon

That once
suffered
divide.
A poem written
on an edgy morning after the 2020 presidential elections.

Walking in the woods,
while trying to make sense of
the times we find ourselves in.

Aware of the many glowing
window lights & street lamps
shining through the darkness.
Oct 2020 · 297
Photographing Ghosts
In the vastness
of the drafty
slat wooden
house,

along the tidal
lettered
streets
of Gearhart;

Snapping images
with waning
filtered light
inside the darkness,

waiting for ghosts
to drift out of
the
shadows,

wondering if my
family's past
have to wait in line
behind
the house spirits
to announce themselves;

Asking us why
we almost
always keep a light
on

In time,
will I leave
a small energy
stamp
after I cross,
ghosting
it out
inside
degrading buildings
after waiting in line

questioning
why
the living
worry so much
and live
so little
Stayed in an ancient wooden mansion on the Oregon coast and photographed ambient light in the dark. Musty, cold, and definitely haunted. Tis the season!
Oct 2020 · 253
Soar Loaf
One loaf of bread
swinging

inspiring us down
to the edge of a
dawning
bay

From their slumbered hiding
one gull
multiplying
swooping
hovering
devouring
the crumbs,
each other,

Turning
the morning
light on
overhead.

What worries?

Soar
together.
Unraveling one of the best mornings I've had as I was engulfed in feathers, beaks, sky and sand.
Oct 2020 · 210
Arriving In Time
There will be a moment when

all the mountains you have ascended

that tried to bring you down under torrent and hail

will be over your shoulder

There will be an instant when all you have learned,

all you have fought for,

all your mistakes, your pains, your cold,
your love, your light,
all of it,

melt together

and you know, finally; you have arrived.


In this
a new fear will arise

telling you
you don’t have
enough time

to complete your painting,
your sculpture,
your chapters of verse,
your photographs,
collages
and
mosaics

All you want
in this newly arrived
way of Being
is to
have the time
to
witness it all to creation’s end

To catch
The impossible weight of sand
at the bottom of the hourglass
with plenty of time to
watch the paint dry.
Poem on the curious things that happen to an artist after surviving death.
Sep 2020 · 273
Vintage Dive
Vintage Dive
In elder times
humans filled
caves with
sorrow
for
watching summer’s
fall into
the seasons of night

As a surprising
consolation,

we were gifted Autumn

with her vintage
palate of violet
plums and gilded
acorns,

buried under
mosaics of
variegated leaves

which dive through
the dawn
after
bravely
letting go

spiraling
southward
stirring
the season’s ***
while
painting
the forest floor
in
a masterpiece
of welcome
change.
Fall is an inspiration for all artists and creatives. Often a fan fave. Easy to write about. A joy to experience.
Sep 2020 · 837
Acorn Compass
Studying the wrinkled lines
of elder poems
on the topic of
the Four Directions;

however;
the poetics of
haunting bards
and mossy sage
always
spiral
back
to the
acorn of the heart

In this infinity;
a piney cabin
resides
inside a bamboo
forest

and Wonder,
She
sits cross-legged
below the
river rock hearth;
warming her palms
against the
irregular downbeat
of snapping flames

“North, South, West and East;
Trust the Wise Arrows
Aiming True
from Your Heart's
Quiver.”
Pondering the Inner Compass; our Heart space and the infinite wise sage that resides within.
Sep 2020 · 1.3k
Breathe Mystic
Imagine an enchanted;

Yes!

Clearing;

A flourishing verdant
evergreen grove,

Raining
oxygen-filled particles
of Wish Light

A vintage letter falls
from the elder oak boughs;

Floating to your feet

Sonorously you read,

"Breathe
In
Deep"
After a week sheltered inside from hazardous wildfire air in the Northwest, it's time to scribe a change.
Sep 2020 · 451
Imbued Creative
The best
poetry
floods through
the writer’s pen,

A wildfire of shooting stars
across papery rows
of crisp oat fields

The most delicious
imbue the reader
down crowny heads
out waltzing feet,

A lyrical nectar
ejecting the soul
into the stratosphere
Aug 2020 · 370
A Garden of Stars
Nothing Worth Doing is Easy

Witness
an impossible
Monarch-

luminesce In,
from obscured
higher frequencies

swapping saffron compliments
with proud Susan, while
sitting on the thirteenth pedal
circling her black eye

Reflecting our diaphanous flight,
through this garden of stars

Maybe,
Everything
Worth Doing Is Easy
As a guide of Mindfulness, often Allowing is a challenge. Simply Being vs Doing is a challenge, indeed. How easy is it, to just watch a butterfly and realize we are fine without the striving. Everything comes.
Aug 2020 · 390
Above
Clouds
sketching
synchronistic
footnotes
into the novelties
of the day

Tucking into the folds
of late August valleys

painted in vintage clover

falling toward winter

Ivory forms lazily turn mobiles overhead

As symbols,
as comfort
as bucket filled rain.
Aug 2020 · 932
One
One
A candle spark

Let's meet in the high fields
at sundown

8 billion souls

One inferno
fueled by wax above our heads

See how grand
a blaze
of change
we can devise

Before retiring to bed.
Aug 2020 · 282
Nature As Ourselves
When no one notices
not even our own awareness
our branches
persist toward the sun

A rope swing dangles

Ready to hold Love,
to listen to Love,
to feel the embrace of Love,
to give Love a push
and to pull Love back
when it has wandered too far

The wind blows us left
the rain torrents right

Through our boughs
our leaves

letting go

down one
down all
It is astounding, despite circumstances, how strong humans can be.

— The End —