I am a shamanic priest who loves to write stories, poetry, and songs. Retired, but still helping people, animals, and the planet.
This is a story about extraterrestrials, who could not impart any of their technology to a simplistic, pre-Stone Age culture, but who had the means by which to encase the ultimate weapon in stone.
Sometimes, I get mired in the mode of the sage, The deluge of thinking, the whirlwinds of thought – In time, my brain tires, like a cat in a cage,
Why do all the lines and meanings, And the chapters of the story, The mysterious rhyme and rhythm, The elusive glance at glory,
Monday Morning, May 11, 1860 My name is Billy Thomas. I am 9-years-old. We’re leaving Santa Fe today, heading north and west. That’s what Pa said. He said there’s supposed to be land out there that a man can claim for himself, that a man can work, and that’s what he wants. Pa talks that way. He likes to farm.
~ What thoughts do we suppress in that expression of resignation? The Spoken Sigh I hear a silence ev’ry day, As if the world has turned away,
~ When one spends a lot of time by oneself, one learns to talk to oneself … not in the familiar absent-minded way that we often do, but with a serious bearing, asking oneself important questions, and pondering the possibilities and the connectedness of the past and the future … and the all-important here and now.
In Oriental philosophies, we sometimes encounter the yin-yang, a symbol that expresses the balance of things in life, referring to the universal opposites, such as positive and negative, good and evil, darkness and light, hot and cold, and so forth. On a more personal level, we experience life in moments of ups and downs; there are those times we think of as sweet and easy-going and other times of bitterness and hardship. At any moment in life, we can look back at the progression of events and the best we might be able to say is that it has been bittersweet.
We dream of things we remember, and so it is not unreasonable to dream of past loves. The question is – do we welcome such dreams or do we become depressed by them? Do we cherish what we had once or do we cultivate bitterness over its loss?