El Chalten, Patagonia

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,

Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear
He is in such a “playful drunken mood”
Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town.


“At a deeper level it was the deliberate movement of the Divine Being that was evolving Itself through the experiences of our species. All our individual histories were expressions of this Being’s larger history, our individual struggles were aspects of its larger struggle. It was the coordinated exercise of the self-evolution of the species as a whole. The process was so beautiful and so elegant that it swept me into a deep ecstasy and almost took me beyond my capacity to maintain coherence. It was not a vision but an experience of the reality itself.”

Christopher Bache, Diamonds from Heaven


I went out of the schoolhouse fast

and through the gardens and to the woods,

and spent all summer forgetting what I’d been taught —

two times two, and diligence and so forth,

how to be modest and useful, and how to succeed, and

so forth,

machines and oil and plastic and money and so forth.

By fall I had healed somewhat, but was summoned back

to the chalky rooms and the desks, to sit and remember

the way the river kept rolling its pebbles,

the way the wild wrens sang though they hadn’t a penny

in the bank,

the way the flowers were dressed in nothing but light.

Just As The Calendar Began To Say Summer

by Mary Oliver


Experience shows that there are certain psychological conditions in which man gets eternal results. They have something of the quality of eternity, of timelessness, they have the quality of reaching beyond man. They have a divine quality and yield all that satisfaction which man-made things do not.”
~C.G. Jung, Dream Seminars, p, 289

We want a life that protects us from God. We want it to be safe, predictable and comfortable. We don’t want to be tested, challenged to see ourselves and the world. We want safe ideas and circumstances, and if we manage to achieve the illusion of it, we feel “successful.”

Living a real life is the last thing on our list. If our constructed appearance fools the world, we are satisfied. We have a lot of instruction in how to be what we’re not.

Underneath, there’s a persistent longing. Something’s missing. We’re not sure what it is. Maybe a better job or a better house or a better wife will silence this restlessness, if we could just find the right thing.

Our whole economic system is fueled by this crying little voice complaining that something is missing. Those fortunate souls who have found a real life seem to be speaking a foreign tongue. They seem to be living on another planet, at least until we too begin to question our conditioning. Then they become beacons, guides, sustaining healers.

Now is a good time to question the world we have built and how that world has built us. Now is the perfect time to listen to that inner voice. It has something important to say.


I’ve been a painter for fifty years. I’m teaching myself to write now. Check out my pub, Anima Fire on Medium


I occasionally write fiction and also about creativity, loving, language learning and travel. I’m a longtime painter and reader.

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