New Year’s day is only one important day among 365 important days.
The first half of your life is spent finding yourself, the second half is spent breaking up with yourself.
The heart is a spotted pear — there’s no getting through without some bruising.
The mind is a sea star — able to regenerate its brilliant purple rays, capable of multidirectional moves, and often clinging to the same surface.
The soul at peace, is paradise.
It may be too late to have an honest conversation with a glacier, but we have to try.
We thought we couldn’t get blood from stone; but today, we can’t seem to stop the bleeding.
Tempting, in this climate, to trade the callus-building requirements of reality for the passive comfort of hoping.
A flash of insight can moon-rocket your life, then flop back down like an expired fish.
Please remember your moon-flight.
At just the right moment, laughing in church can deinstitutionalize God, at least for a while.
The individual is a phantom — in wonder and blunder we receive our selves through the eyes of others.
Pack light. Most everything you need you’ll find along the way.
Should you want to find God, which is to say, should you desire meaning, learn to love the earth and her array of inhabitants.
Theology eulogizes the universe, while poetry befriends a birch tree. Theology says I come from the heavens, poetry says I come from Springside, Saskatchewan.
Our favoured certainties should routinely be set on fire to see what rises from the ash.
A tincture of cynicism is emancipating, but a full-meal is constipating.
The crushed grapes of relinquishment can sometimes be Beaujolais for the spirit.
If you press your face against a keyboard, canvas, soapstone, it sometimes opens a door.
Art enlarges our being and bearing, which is why despots of commerce de-fund it.
Science and religion are humble in theory, but never when monetized.
Things repair themselves if they are unplugged for a while, including humans.
Time is a line that swirls — so let it swirl.
Death and dying — hard, hard, hard — any kind of bromide, unfitting.
To counsel hope, can sometimes be malpractice.
The twin sister of praise is grief.
Don’t beat yourself up, worry, especially these days, is a form of prayer.
Grim, but better than thinking about the news, is putting together a 5000 piece puzzle of your own brain.
Don’t vomit outright. Some poisons you need to let pass through so you’ll know what to hate, what to tolerate.
Despite the crazed magnificence of our vanities, our true longing is to be each other’s joy.
The Big Bang is God’s dancing body. The shimmering fallout is yours.
The Second Coming, if we have the eyes for it, is us, in our unfolding inclusiveness.
There’s always more to be said about faith and love, but it’s time we heard from the chrysanthemums.
You would like the role you play in my dreams.
Remove your tactical cap,
Approach a blueberry bush on your knees,
Hug the dawn,
Love everyone.
Wishing you a bright and beautiful New Year!
