weeds where are my chrysanthemums? their curved fingers gently holding the jaspar engraved with names of love, trust, and compassion. where are they? i call out like mother gaia searching for her lost children overturning stone after stone of anger, fear, and compulsion. where are they? have the weeds swallowed you up like a crocodile meeting a chihauhau? where are they? where are they? where are you? ~Terri Stewart, Dec. 2010
today today’s journey should begin with a rushandflurryand hecticmovement but i refuse. the crazed mob of achievement will not hold me today. i will instead, hold the newly born thought of peace on earth, and all the crickets too. what? you say that isn’t new? well, it should be. ~(c) Terri Stewart, December 2010 Random thought for the day: Isn't it odd how refuse (say no) and refuse (trash) are the same word? I feel something fun coming from that.
who are we? walking through this world as if we are without consequence bangledesh sewing our pants for fifty cents an hour claiming that we do not enslave or put people into jeopardy, innocent of wrong-doing watching court tv and accusing those raised without light while we horde the oil. it will not matter that we have Abraham as our ancestor. ~Terri Stewart, Dec. 2010 Meditation on Matthew 3:1-12, prompted this morning by Christine Valters Paintner of Abbey of the Arts and the question, "who are the kindred?" Sometimes, the kindred are not pretty. Shalom, Terri