Someone’s Hidden Mercy…

Someone’s Hidden Mercy…

and I don’t know
where to begin to look.

I’ve been searching.
It’s been more than days.
Truly, I cannot begin to remember
when my pursuit
actually began.

I’ve crossed endless
highways and by-ways.

I traveled by air,
land and sea.

I stepped across
the scorching desert sands.

I’ve lifted rocks
along the rushing
river beds.

I’ve leaped through
valleys fresh with

I stood in the big
cities staring
into a million faces.

I’ve walked beside
those with nothing
and ‘softened’
in the midst of
those who believe
themselves to
have everything.

Mercy, Mercy, Mercy—
where have you gone?

I climbed a mountain
and looking outward
into the infinite

I called again,
I shouted, “MERCY!”

My voice carried on,
and on,
and on…

In the distant
I heard
the still small

It was ONLY then
I knew ‘inside’
of me
the place where
Mercy dwelt.

“Be merciful
sweet self…

I’m in thee.”


Moon River

Moon River

Six years old—
Swooning and crooning
across the kitchen floor
in my father’s arms.

I’m laughing—
He’s singing—
and from some
unknown place
I say,
“We’ll never have a
father daughter dance
like this…I won’t be
getting married.”

Years would pass…
I was his hero—
He didn’t miss one of my games
and traveled to be with me wherever
I might play.Then, one day I put
down the glove…
I hung my racquet
and immersed myself
in study…
He didn’t know how to
find me there—
still, he loved me.

how quickly it passes.
An enormous life change
for my father—
He did not know
who he was anymore.
When they gave him no option
but to retire,
he left ‘everyone’ behind.

I’m singing a familiar tune,
“The cats and the cradle
       and the silver spoon…
little boy blue and the man
      in the moon…”

Now, in desperation—
in urgency I go to him…

His mind waning—
one moment he seems to
understand, then whatever

The Bronze Star sits
on his table…
First time he’s spoken to me
of his service in the
Korean War—
Perhaps, a memory he wishes
would fade.

I turn on his organ…
He selects the song—
We dance in the living room…
the carpet, soft, beneath
out feet.

It’s the last dance with
my father…

I’ll ALWAYS remember.

(Dedicated to my father Joseph C. Mattucci/Father’s Day 2016)


Stumbling Blocks

Stumbling Blocks

A twisting road—
Never ending curves—
holes knee deep—
some large enough
that I’ve been
swallowed whole.

Massive boulders
impeded the way…
there was no way
getting round—
going over has
changed my physical form.

Certainly, all the
bumps and bruises—
scrapes and lacerations
changed my movement.

The path continues…
lessons at every step
teach me
train me
guide me.

What I’m encountering
most intimately in
my becoming my ‘SELF’
are the loving
stumbling blocks
gracing the journey.

Yes, loving because
they are persons in
my life who would
ask me to steer
clear from the
way Spirit guides me.

At times this saddens
me because they
continue choosing
not to see who I AM.
Instead, they wish to
fit me into their mold…

Maybe this push to mold me is
easier for them—
‘they’d’ not have to
look in the mirror…

They could continue to
sit in their church
pews ‘critiquing’ the
rest of the world
and how it should be.

Ah, yes—these sacred
stumbling blocks…

they actually invite me
and at the same time
tempt me
to look at the road
in front of me.

I’m trying to walk a
terrain less traveled—
bumps and bruises heal
more quickly than
the RAW emotions challenged
along the open road
filled with stumbling blocks.

Still, both
have their lessons…

AND, I’m coming to
we are able to face challenges
in life
because we are MUCH stronger
than we think.

The curve ahead—
‘I do not yet see.’
I’ll face it when it comes.

For now, I’ll
move on from this
THIS garden of life!



Holding Hands…

Walking with ‘our’ Ancestors through poems, reflections and stories untold—

Listen…with ‘new’ ears
COME join hands.


“For I know the thoughts that
I think toward you, says the
Lord, thoughts of peace and
not of evil, to give you a
future and a hope.
Then you will call upon Me
and go and pray to Me, and I
will listen to you
And you will seek Me and
find Me, when you search for
Me with all your heart.
I will be found by you, says
the Lord, and I will bring
You back from your

Jeremiah 29:11-14

Our ancestry is the ‘Beginning’ of our stories and those beginnings were even before our ancestry, yet never written down…perhaps not even to the visible ‘eye’ as we have come to know it.

It is within the third eye that we are invited to journey deeper…not so to erase the foot prints of history, but rather to walk in those footsteps and blaze new trails rooted in the beginning of time.

We are often frightened to see the formations that shaped us, that breathed life into us…that drew lines in the sand causing us to pause and encounter the moments.

Our past—the voices of all that our ancestors encircled teach us to throw down the stones that would only incite more violence, pain, injury, insult.

The blood of our stoning, our weaponry, our advancements in technology have seeped into the soils of our time and we must ‘listen’ to the voices of our past echoing through the wind, pulsing through our rivers and endless waterways…
We must hear the sounds of the simple bird that sings if for no other reason than it can.
We push aside listening in the silence because we don’t like what it says to us…
This silence calls to us, a hushed whisper to love—
This is the heart of the story.
In some ways we are only now beginning to ‘grasp’ the wisdom of the ancient mystics, prophets, artists, writers and poets of this our present moment.

Seasons change, so too, the story grows ever more beautiful, yet not without pain, struggle.  Oh the joy our rootedness discovers when we sink into the ‘muddy’ earth and discover new ways to grow.

Our clouded ideas, thoughts, reasonings lifted~~~
the sky…clear and for the first time one ‘sees’
especially within—
that a heart waits in the hands of the Beloved who has been residing all along anticipating this very moment to be discovered…
a union, an intimacy.
No going back, yet one must look back to recognize how the story was created.

Your story is my story and my chapters ‘meshed’ into yours…
race, color, gender, religion, tribes no more—
Let us recognize our oneness
Let us close our eyes and touch our brothers and sisters past, present and future and simply love the ones whom we touch—
May that first moment when we actually ‘feel’ another cause a ripple within our souls and expand outward touching every living, moving being and value its worthiness in the grand design of ‘being.’

May the stories we’ve come to know be springboards for the stories we share today and may the little child who hears for the first time ‘this beginning’ be invited to receive and add newness for the message of his/her future.

May we acknowledge it is not about who is right or who is wrong.  Think of me a dreamer, a Don Quixote ‘seeing’ beauty in what would be that which others would never see as lovable—
to breathe out only kindness, compassion, tenderness and mercy—
And, even if it not received, extend it all the more to the one listening, yet not able to grasp…

We are the ‘voices in the desert, on the mountains,
in the cities and slums,
the suburbs, the villages—
Preparing not for the “one” who is to come…
for the “ONE” is already here among us—
Within us.
















Blankets of star dust
dance through the sky
landing delicately upon sheets of earth
born and then reborn…
So much discovery in all this that has been undiscovered.
There is an unknown existing long before a story told.
In its beginning, its formation…energy, matter, atoms, a whirling mass of chaos,
eruptions, explosions, pulsating cells forming, duplicating~~~breathing…ALIVE.

So much in between every written line, each expanding paragraph, endless chapters of
questions seeking answers, answers leading only to more questions…all this is part of a
tapestry spreading wide, expanding what we understand as ‘reaching’
never truly able to touch what began it all and yet touching every fiber of every living being
for what was, what is…the wondrous I AM lives, dwells in and through CREATION…and in all
‘created’ natural beings~~~

So you, whose name is as we’ve come to know, ADAM~~~
the Source of all Living breathed through its nostrils into the star dust, your
image~~~already the likeness of I AM and you became a living being surrounded by and with
endless life.

You, man…a caretaker, yes, care taker of CREATION~~~planted in a Garden.
You, a root from the soil’s flesh,
not placed here to control all things but to love
in harmony with all ‘beings.’
You were to ‘care’ for this dwelling…endlessly changing
You were gifted with language and with this you could reason
as well as imagine—
Together ‘reason’ and imagination…
There was balance, harmony~~~

Watch, learn, and listen to all that has been before you~~~
A natural flow…
You were created to join this natural dance.

You are from the earth…
Be One with Her.

The Word

The Word

From the beginning

Some THING hovered—
so it be told.

Tradition speaks
through WORD (and there are MANY traditions)
to explain what cannot
be revealed in its

A mere word attempts…
STILL—the WORD…limiting.

Yet, language is gift
in its endless forms—
verbs, adjectives, nouns,
I’m not certain I’ll
ever understand them correctly


I’ll keep trying…
BELIEVING much of what
I’ve been taught—
NOT accurate.

The feminine script
written from its beginning
breathed the WORD,
‘Spirit’~~~SOPHIA—to Life.

She it was who hovered
until the masculine
description came
REPLACING ‘meaning’
in endless ways…
It carried the feminine flow—
life’s blood line…
The patriarchal systems
made her ‘unclean’…

Masculine swords drew
blood in celebration—
a ‘god’ (made in their own image)
was set ablaze.

The dimmed image NOW
a WARRIOR instead

She who is/who needs
no gender
cries out in our midst


Mercy ‘echoes’
stretching out both
far and wide.

Back to its
and trusting ALL is or shall
return to its


“Christ has no body now but yours
No hands, no feet on earth but yours
Yours are the eyes through which He looks
compassion on this world
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

                                            —Teresa of Avila

Captivated by Story

Captivated by Story

“What good is it to me if Mary gave birth to the Son of God fourteen hundred years ago
and I do not also give birth to the Son of God in my time and in my culture?
We are all meant to be Mothers of God.”                                             Meister Eckhart

I wish to express my gratitude to those of you who ‘walked’ with me on the road to Santiago.
The journal was my ‘gift’ to share with you.

It can be read in its entirety on my web-site : under the heading Camino de Santiago or you can go to the journal directly by going to:

Now, I will share a story NOT birthed from my pen, yet written countless scores ago.
Added to the narrative will be sketches ‘manifested’ at a time when I was unable to walk.
The images/faces are of persons from the Hebrew Scriptures and The New Testament.
(Some faces are of persons in my life who exemplify the sojourners written into the story.)

I hope you will not STOP reading here—
The Bible has been a book of paradoxes for me throughout my life.
The Story (myths—defined by German Novelist Thomas Mann as “a story about the way things never were, but always are.”) of God changing timelessly…as it continues for me even today—
In a Cosmic Way.

I’ve experienced amazing moments as I broke open the story in sacred venues.  Persons of all faiths have been ‘open’ to hearing a message of Transformation

In the words of Francis of Assisi, “Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.”

The audience before me—-persons of different religious traditions exuded great excitement—persons of no particular religious tradition savored the faces behind the sketches. (These individuals have changed me and opened me to SEE well beyond my reach)

I hope you will enjoy the forthcoming Thursdays in a NEW way as I share a person of the past through artistry & poetry.  Many of the persons are nameless…often women, another reason for the spring inside of me to flow.

It is my hope that when you ‘look’ into the eyes of the persons I’ve sketched you’ll say, “Ah, yes, this is what I envisioned them to look like”— or “This IS nothing I would have imagined!”  I hope you’ll read the poetry with a renewal of your mind (Metanoia)—allowing a light to shine in a place you’ve never taken notice allowing YOU to hear something new within yourself.

My hope in the sharing of Story, this story in particular, is that we can see pathways of other traditions intersecting and guiding us to a deeper truth, a renewed consciousness and a life where we all recognize one another as LOVE.















In the Beginning…

I ‘SEE’ Your Face

I ‘SEE’ Your Face

I see your face
in the rising of
a thousand suns.

I see YOU— your eyes
your pupils— like black notes
on a naked white page
and your song

I see your breath
it is the wind
clicking through branches
and caressing leaves.
Wrapped in wonder
am I.

I see your hair
the wet blanket of
grass and lingering
on every head a dewdrop
sparkling in the rays
born on a landscape
for a first time.
This first morning
that will never be again
but shall return
NEW tomorrow.

I see your skin
outlined in the mountain’s peaks…
your body—real is
the curve of your neck
the shape of your breasts
the sway in your hips
the length of your legs
and your feet
running in farmlands
over the water
draping over sands of

I see your face

May I say
Your face is beautiful
just like a song
‘living’ to be sung—

I see your face…AND









Phyllis Pulver’s (Minister of Music/Singer of Song/Lover of Life) Fun Filled Singing Retreat
Pumpkin Hollow Retreat Center 2016
Photo by Cheri Warren



Words Transformed

Words Transformed

Like smoke
rising from a fire
my words
transformed into

Camino—Conclusion or perhaps A NEW Beginning

A New Beginning

A Poem by the Sufi poet Hafiz

a hole in a flute
that the Christ’s breath moves through
LISTEN to this music.

I am the concert from the mouth of every creature
singing with the myriad chorus.

I AM a hole in a flute
that the Christ’s breath moves through
LISTEN to this music.


Daughter of Woman

Daughter of Woman

Hear with ears afresh.
Yes—listen to a voice
speaking in the sculpture
of your femininity
born out of clay.

The ways of man—
they’re not wrong.

Still, as women
we need to ‘breathe’ in
our nurturing, sustaining,
cleansing, forgiving

fully human—BEINGS.

We are not beneath our
brothers nor are we
We are made in the
image and likeness of
what cannot
be defined.

Daughters of Women
clear the paths
that have told you
YOU cannot travel this way.

Let NO one tell you
you are not fit.

We are ALL sharers
in the Reign of the Living One…

the Living One
who dwells in our midst
inviting us each and
every NEW day—

to step into the beginnings of life
we are given and
blessed to receive
when our eyes open
to every blessed

Daughter of Woman
raise your voice
even if no one hears.

Sing your song—

Trust it is HEARD

Daughter of Woman—
Spirit finds rest in thee.



Camino—Day 37

Camino—Day 37

May 1st
Final Day

THIS day I have reached the ‘c’athedral…
I have arrived
AND discovered ALL the
endless beginnings!

The ‘t’emple in me has COME home—
My heart is so full, expanding with
every breath.
I’m not certain
how this heart has ROOM to beat—

It has discovered ‘a rhythm’ in the
vast mystery of CREATION—

May this knowing ‘rest’ in thee.
















Dust, mud, sun and rain
is the Road of Santaigo
Thousands of pilgrims
and more than a million years.

Pilgrim, who is calling you?
What hidden force draws you?
Neither the field of stars
nor the grand cathedrals.

It is not the brave Navarre,
nor the wine of the Riojas
nor the Galacian seafood,
nor the Castillian fields.

Pilgrim, who is calling you?
What hidden force draws you?
Neither the people of the road
nor the rural customs.

It is not the history and the culture,
nor the rooster of the Calzada
nor the palace of Gaudi.
Nor the Castle Ponferrada.

I see everything in passing,
and it is a joy to see the side (or parts)
more the voice that calls me
I feel much more deeply.

The force that pushes me
the force that draws me,
I can’t explain
Only he from Above knows!

The Bridge of Life…

The Bridge of Life

at the many
bridges in your life…

Where is it you stand?
What have your
crossings been like?

Are you at a
no idea how far
its end?
So much beyond
your sights?

Perhaps you’re in
the bridge’s ‘middle’—
you feel its sway…
you trust its movements…
you’ve grounded your steps.
Still, you’re not stuck.

You move
looking back with a smile…
laughing to yourself,
thinking inwardly,
recalling your initial thoughts,
“How will I ever get
across THIS?”

You’re not at the end
BUT, it is nearer
than before…
Why is it we sometimes
fear endings?

Truly, they are
resurrection moments…
are they not?

How can we not see
what the seasons have taught us—
year after year after year…

The WAIT of winter
The BLOSSOMS of spring
The FULLNESS of summer
and then the FALL.

Are you nearing
a new bridge?
Do you have a sense it’s time
to get off?

Are you ready for the
or will you hold on
to these rails?

It’s easier, yes—
because it’s familiar
as are the many faces
crossing with you.

BUT, maybe it’s
your time
to trust
to cross.

You’ve done it before—
you know you have.

Believe in you.
the bridge awaits—
is it your beginning
or is it your end?

Camino—Day 36

Camino—Day 36

April 30th

Wind and rain greeted me this day.
They seemed to weather the ‘spirit’ stirring in me.  For a few days now I have ‘felt’
that I had finished the Camino.  How could this be when I had not yet arrived in
Santiago? Hauntingly, perhaps, I did not wish to arrive to sense an ‘ending..’  Deep
down I knew it to be a new beginning…

I’m still the same, yet changed…How?  I cannot tell you.  I’ll need ‘space’ upon
returning home to sift through all the grains of wheat I’ve ‘plucked’ along
this journey.

Arriving in Santiago felt ’empty.’  Tears bathed my being as I gently placed my
companion (Stickey) with all the other pilgrim sticks that have made their way.















The woman ‘gifting’ me with my certificate took my hand and said, “Well done.”
She paused with me in the moment—NO RUSHING.  I knew her to be a pilgrim.

I chose to attend the pilgrim Mass.  The cathedral was full…standing room only.  A
gentle woman religious entered the altar proper space and began to sing.  Her
voice, strong and prayerful, as if we were in heaven (and we are) opened every
hollowed place with awe.

Again—a silent rush of tears…a procession of male clergy and the voice of the
woman ‘lifting’ hearts in prayer.  It was the first moment in a long while I felt
sorrow.  I sensed a lack of equality, and as much as I wanted to run out, I looked
all around me.  The cathedral was packed with many faith-filled souls and with those of no faith—there was a shared solemn reverence.  I wept, and wept, and

I’m so ALIVE—free from so much, so much ‘information,’ system overload be it
religious, political, economic or the simple demands of connecting with friends.
This ‘journey’ ALONE has given me the gift of ‘being’ with self—a self I’ve enjoyed
to walk with…

As the ‘botafumeiro’ in the cathedral was swung—symbolic (originally) to
fumigate the sweaty pilgrims, the temple in me rose…an ‘air’ of cleansing needed.
AS I departed the cathedral, I thought of the thousands of pilgrims who gathered
in this place over the centuries—those coming to be blessed as they completed
the journey.  History has a way of touching those in need, and it is the “simple”
souls who understand the message.  These pilgrims have lived their years and the
years now live in them.  ‘They’ are the incense blessing the valleys, the mountain
tops, the country side, the streams and rivers, the farmlands, the flat terrain, the
soggy marshes.















I began this journal with a question that has reverberated with me as I walked…

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
                                                                                                                   George Berkeley

What do you believe?
I believe some-thing hears the sound…I have been this tree walking each day
falling, rising—dying.  Yes, dying to a self that need not be ANYTHING but the
manifestation of the living presence of God within me.

So many souls I know AND love would prefer to walk around saying, “Mea Culpa
Mea Culpa.”  It’s easy to think we are NOT good enough, not worthy enough
because then we do not have to be the ‘LIGHT‘ each of us IS!

Shine BEAUTIFUL you—shine and reflect off the glow of EVERYONE you
encounter.  If your light is not received, if others envy you or cast aspersions
about your being, walk on gently…BUT never cover who you are.

Your roots are strong, and wherever you are planted, may your ‘garden’ in life be
a return to Eden—all things GOOD.  Don’t be afraid to eat the fruit!  Amen.

Don’t Be Led Astray…

Don’t Be Led Astray

Color outside the lines…

Paint the ocean orange
and the sky purple…

Sing your favorite song
out of key—
cook a meal
you never have
and invite friends to dine.

Stitch a quilt without a pattern…

laugh when your heart
is breaking…

and stand in the rain
until you’re soaked.

you’ll hear
“what’s happened to her/him?”

Some will literally tell you,
“You’re wrong.”

For once, yes, at least once

Create what is inside YOU—

don’t rationalize…
give up the line, “That’s not me,
I don’t DO those things”…
Be willing to change—

Discover yourself
ANEW—this day
EVERY day.

Let the whole world
WONDER why you’re

Maybe, just maybe
you’ll rub off
on someone…

they, too,
will find their own

Let’s create a
world of
before ‘our’ world’
goes astray
and we’ve suddenly


Camino—Day 35

Camino—Day 35

April 29th

Each day—
I’ve walked with angels.
their voices ‘singing’ to me—to ALL
who ‘listen.’

At times they were hidden.  It did not matter—never did they leave me alone.
Sometimes, one would perch itself upon a lofty branch and sing as if saying, ‘yes,
yes…you’re on the way.’

Other times they’d reveal their astonishing wings—
soaring, they’d capture the wind in one single ‘swoop’ and soar endlessly—
And this time they invited me not only
to listen, but to see.

Don’t worry about your return (only one day to Santiago)…don’t think about
what you’ll say or won’t say—

Sing ‘your’ song
you’ve earned your wings.
If they laugh at you, make fun—
fly higher & higher—then descend
into the clouds…’LAUGHING’ now that they
have become your pillows to rest—
Don’t believe in angels?
Try listening awhile.



Once Upon a Poem…

Once Upon a Poem

The silence was so LOUD
that it BURST.

Thousands, millions of LIGHTS
broke from within the darkness.

Flashes could be seen
thunderous roars, explosions
cascaded across

and NO ONE saw this

could be heard in the chaos.

The moment became STILL
grasp what pursed
all the MOTION.

Suddenly, the BREATH
began to INHALE
and stars splashed throughout space…
then an EXHALE evolved
spreading galaxies beyond galaxies…
Universes erupted
AND then a WORD was SPOKEN…

An unknown voice
echoed, ‘GOOD.’

In unison
all THINGS coming
together APPEARED as
if they were clapping

The hands ‘scooped’
all that was
and BEGAN to
form seas, lands, mountains,
deserts—animals, fish, birds,
unexplored DEPTHS—
so much MYSTERY
fashioning itself
well BEYOND the understanding
of DAYS…

again, ‘GOOD‘ was heard—

and then the Unknown
spewed its breath into
the dust—

ENDLESS particles
took form
creating the very
likeness of the
Unknowing ONE


was born.

All things created
were GOOD

Once upon a poem.

Remembering an Artist…Prince

Remembering an Artist…Prince

Purple Rain…PURPLE RAIN—


Earth Day

Earth Day

Residing in each of us—A Seed.

In the darkness we make our way.

Through chaos we RISE.

In the Ordinary—we are moved, reshaped, changed and yet the same.

ALWAYS—we are becoming…
spreading our branches to comfort, to heal, to nourish, to shelter.

This day, Mother Earth, with gratitude we celebrate the soils into which you have planted us.

Camino—Day 34

Camino—Day 34

April 28th

“This is my simple religion…
There is no need for temples.
There is no need for complicated philosophy.
Our own brain, our own heart is the temple.
The philosophy is loving kindness & compassion.”   ~~~Dalai Lama~~~


An Encounter with Goodness

I rang the buzzer…
The door slowly squeaked open—
There in its ‘frame’—soft gray hair, a face…a body that has lived its years AND
she smiled placing her warm hand on my chilled wet face.  She ‘hung’ my soaked
rain gear and led me to the hostess—a middle aged GEM…who before she could
WELCOME—then disappeared.

I was shown to my room.  The fresh scent of sheets, a down comforter, a hot
shower—gifts from my hostess to me.  Later, I made my way downstairs for a bite
to eat—

THERE she was…THE CRONE—preparing supper.  The sweet aroma was feast

Again, she welcomed me to sit.  She was MARTHA and I felt like the young Mary.
“MARTHA” knew how to serve and she knew how to welcome the stranger.  She
knew how to be still and at the same time how to ‘PREPARE’ hearts for the way.

GOODNESS was all that played in my mind…
(Today I recalled yesterday’s ‘moment’)
She was the TEACHER…the sweetest simplicity given in all she touched.
(She needed no accolades) She sat with me while I ate and when I had finished
eating the banquet prepared, she blessed my left cheek and then my right with a

An encounter with GOODNESS—
Now, I must go and BE the same.

***How fitting as I end this days’ journal entry that I come upon the words of
Mary Oliver’s WILD GEESE.  My knees no longer marred with callouses…FREE***


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees for a
hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your
body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell
You mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean
blue air, are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your IMAGINATION
calls to you like the WILD GEESE, harsh
and exciting—
Over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

                                      ~~~Mary Oliver~~~



I sat beside sorrow—
the days passed
weeks went by
time became lost.

Neither of us
sorrow or self
looked up or out—
we were stranded within
like an island
with no means to break free—
land was nowhere in sight.

I’m uncertain what it was
or what allowed our
eyes to meet,
but a sudden stir
brought sorrow and me
face to face.

We gazed for
a solitary moment—
we began to laugh
until we cried.

We embraced
holding our connection…
trusting in a boat
that drifted to the

It was always there,
but for NOW—
finally visible.

Sorrow and I
bowed to each other—
we knew we’d meet
again…life has those
moments allowing us to

AND then we board the
vessel setting out
in uncharted waters
drawing strength
from grief’s encounters.

We rise
discovering ‘newness’
in ourselves and the
ability to endure.

Joy is the oars
that allow us to
paddle to other

Camino—Day 33

Camino—Day 33

April 27th

“The foolish man (woman) seeks happiness in the distance; the wise man
(woman) grows it under his (her) feet.”                                  J R Oppenheimer

Today—the rain fell, softly at FIRST, and then as if someone pushed a lever, it
splashed the Earth soaking EVERYTHING.  At times I could ‘see’ thick ‘sheets’ of rain
rolling right in the path and there was NO escape.

MEANING filled my mind today.  ‘We’ give meaning to so many things…actually
almost to everything.  The meaning I give regarding this rain soaked day
determines how I will walk and how ‘pleasant’ the experience may or may not be.

I could list many ‘meaningful’ moments that twirled and curled my soaked hair,
but that would prolong the experience I am enjoying.  What I ‘spend’ my ‘mind’
on ‘feeds’ the meaning…adds color to life.

I want to fill myself with what is ‘good’ so that I might nourish the world through
what others receive from me.  I’m walking through ‘living’ pages of history at this
moment—choices made…with good intentions even though they may not have
manifested what initially was intended.

Still, I’m tired when persons belabor the same old tapes, harvest hatred and
dualities again and again.  Are we different from those long ago who TRIED to
pave a way where ALL can live harmoniously?

What MEANING will future generations find in what we leave behind?

I pray…I really pray that with all the technology we have at our disposal, every
moment of every day we have or not have, we will not lose a balance of
FAITH…the silent unknown, the hidden mystery that each of us cannot find on

I pray ‘we’ do NOT give our children ‘everything.’  I pray that our children
understand the gift WAITING and the simplicity of joy that comes with

I pray that we never rush the seasons—
May their meanings kindle in us the desire to ripen as ‘meaning‘ feeds our roots—
allowing us to grow.

Don’t Move

Don’t Move

Don’t move…

Hold still…

Yes, I believe this is it.

Don’t blink your eyes.

Relax now—

Oh, yes, I do

STOP thinking…


The light…
only a few more seconds.



What image
is held in
your lens?

Don’t move—

but certainly…

Take the picture.

OPEN the shutter.


Camino—Day 32

Camino—Day 32

April 26th

“…We cannot live in the past and we try in vain to live with the idea of
some future golden age.  The only place we can truly inhabit is the present.  The rest is fantasy—some painful, some pleasurable—some deceptive.”
(pg 248 / A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago)

When I AM ‘inside’
I AM far from lost—
It is the ‘closest’ place
to being found.

‘Outside’ of me
are the constant lures
pulling me AWAY from
the ‘inner’ freedom
I NOW know.

THIS ‘temple’ that I AM—
That each of us IS…is
NOT made of stone upon stone…

Every moment I breathe
I AM ALIVE with wonder,
and upon dying I will
be reborn into ALL that already is…

AND—I will know the ‘place’
as a first time
even as a part of me
has been here
all along.


Upon leaving the city,
dressed overhead two arching rainbows—

I’m NOT seeking signs
except the yellow WAYMARKERS—
visible signs.
Yet, ‘invisible graces’ illuminate
my every step…
NOW dancing with raindrops—
I reach my rural haven…
Nestled in trees, tucked alongside
the river—
The sun breaks the clouds sending
down shafts of LIGHT…heaven
all around
and NOW a hawk circles
above my head…
Screeching, screeching, screeching…
what a glorious chorus of
THIS is my church—
an ever present COMMUNITY
ignited with the breath of LIFE…
How can I help, from this day
forward, NOT to go in PEACE.

Destination Unknown

Destination Unknown

I lost you…

you did not lose me.

Your eye upon me…

I flopped, I swayed,
I staggered and fell—

Somehow…I have no idea.
A final breath within
carried me back—
back into the bed
of the sea.

The flow filled me…

I moved with the current
designed for me—

Even though I thought
you gone
I was discovering you

and even though
I cannot ‘see’ the way

The destination unknown

Wandering Soul, I AM.

I follow

‘treading’ ever so gracefully
with your tides.

Camino—Day 31

Camino—Day 31

April 25th

“That which God said to the rose, and caused it to laugh in full-blown beauty, He
said to my heart, and made it a hundred times more beautiful.”              RUMI

A soft rain washed over me this morning…it continued to fall as I walked for miles
bathing in the endless terrain before me.  Off to the west I was not able to make
out the mountains obscured by the clouds. The mist created a hidden ‘agenda.’
I knew some-thing was there, but it was not clear.  There was/is a hidden place in
me which I do not have to understand or figure out.  I simply know it is there and I
let it be.

I passed one pilgrim this morning—he with his headlamp and I with mine.  We
whispered ‘Buen Camino’ and I moved on.

I walked in silence and wished I could store this ‘quiet’ in a bottle to pour out
upon days filled with useless noise…’blaring music,’ machinery, automobiles,
ringing phones—

I’ve been soooo ‘off the hook,’ detached from cyberspace.  While I know the
benefits of technology, progress, a piece of me wants to hold onto this
quiet/solitude forever.  Whom am I fooling?

I have the right gear to sustain me through all the weather elements, and today
the right gear is beneficial as the heavy rains drench me.  I think of the early
pilgrims who walked the Camino.  They did not have—yet, they made their way.

I reached Sarria (a city)—a noticeable change in scenery, but as I set out to
explore, I had my sights set on reaching the Mosteiro de Santa Maria Madalena.When I arrived, the doors were closed.  I was disappointed.  Slowly, the door
unlocked.  A small statured man welcomed me.  He stamped my credentials and
led me through a door to an interior garden.  The mosaic floor was enchanting.
He then pulled me in gently—walking me into ‘The Inglesis.’  Hidden tears flowed.
He allowed me to sit by myself—I cannot explain anything…

The mist covering this day has hidden what it has willed and I honor all that is
NOT revealed and that is still somehow visible.



A solitary bird
flew for unprecedented miles
before settling in a tall
pine in a vast forest.

Its wings were heavy
dampened by winds
that carried the dove
and at the same time
urged it to rest.

A soft cue
split its beak
and it listened as
the echo carried
on, and on, and on…

Now, safely tucked
in the branches
the feathered creature
closed its eyes
burrowing itself
in unrestrained

When it woke
the tender being asked
itself, “Did I really
have to travel this far
to understand this moment?”

“Could I not have landed
anywhere—close-by to
where I set out
to find a place such as this?”

For a long time
the bird rested in these

then one day
it softly rustled its
stretching them into the

needing no answers

it spread its wings
and took off in

ALL directions
pointing the WAY.


It’s time…RISE and step from the tomb!

GOOD Friday

GOOD Friday

Camino—Day 30

Camino—Day 30

April 24th

“God is the One whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”
                                                                                                                         ~~~St Bonaventure


O’Cebreiro…this beautiful place felt like I was ‘resting’ in Eden.  EVERYWHERE I
looked, creation was birthing itself as if on a time lapse camera.
I sat outside most of the day writing, sketching and taking in some sustenance.
Ahhhhhhhhhhh, the vistas filled me with what no ‘food’ could sustain.

It was early evening when I spotted a man who passed me a few times this
afternoon gazing at my sketch… ‘Bravada, Bravada’ was all he said and we shared
an unspoken smile.

Now, as I sat quietly, he came and sat beside me…a man who had seen many
years—his face glowed.

Then, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Joseph.  Joseph from Rome.”

We managed a heartwarming conversation and we sat silently bathed in the
setting sun and in the mountains that stretched for interminable miles.

Then, Joseph from Rome, showed me his finger.  He had a large gash that he
managed to do on his own with his Swiss army knife.  His bandage was soaked
with blood.  No pharmacies on this lofty mountain haven.  “Wait, I will help.”  I
went to my room and pulled out a few medicated blister bandages.  Joseph, from
Rome, was delighted as I dressed his wound.  We shared a smile and he was gone.

Why am I writing about Joseph—Joseph from Rome?  I’m on this Camino de
Santiago, and it does carry with it a ‘charming’ male energy.  Joseph is my
father’s name…and today I walked (mindfully) with my dad.  If not for my dad, I
would not be here ‘walking.’

I ALWAYS was an adventurous child.  As I sat, I recalled a family outing to an
amusement park many years ago.  My mom had me wear a dress (That’s a whole
other story—but, an amusement park and a dress?)  I was only five and hurried to the
fish pond.  I cast my line and won a Roy Rodgers pin which I immediately
pinned to my dress—“High-Ho Silver Away.”  We went to friends nearby for a
swim and supper.  I loved the water though I couldn’t swim.  I played on the steps
until it was time for our meal.

The adults were chatting and my sister and brother were relaxed at the table. BUT,
it was time for Roy and me to go galloping—poolside seemed like the perfect

Skipping along the edge (just like the path I’ve walked today in the rain), Roy somehow unclipped from my dress, flying though the air and landing right in the
deep end…he was sinking.  My pin—what was I to do?”

NATURALLY—I had to save him.  I jumped in.  No one heard the splash.
Did I mention I did not know how to swim?  I caught Roy before he sank to the bottom.
Instinct took over.  I began to kick, to move my arms, to hold my breath.  Try as I
might, my little body was not able to reach the surface.

THEN, Tonto came.  That’s my dad.  He happened to look up and saw my head
skimming the water.  He jumped right in—glasses, car keys, wallet…and, he rescued me.

It was a very melancholy ride home.  (I did not know what that word meant).  My
mother sat with me wrapping me in a towel and embracing me in her arms.  She
was NOT letting me go.  My sister and brother sat quietly in the back seat.  I saw
tears.  What I really wanted to tell them was—“I CAN SWIM,” but it was not the
time.  The next day our neighbors invited us to visit and to enjoy their pool.  I
immediately jumped in—NO FEAR…and I was swimming!  Never could get me out
of the water.  To this day, if you look closely, you can see
my gills (ha-ha!).

My dad also told stories—two I’ve never forgotten (both from the Bible).  The
first…the story of Sampson.  It would be a long time before I would cut my hair.
The second story, Joseph and his amazing coat of many colors.  A little of my dad
has rubbed off on me—story telling binds us together.  Today, I break open
Scripture stories in a NEW way…

I know that my dad would have loved to walk the Camino with me, but his legs no
longer do the miles.  Walks along the ocean are his Camino.

Dad, this day I carried you in my HEART.  You always knew I followed my ‘inner’
path, and you never asked me to go any other way than what was ‘right’ for me…

If I haven’t told you enough—
I whispered it in the wind this day.

I love you Joseph Mattucci—

sandy mattucci, your daughter

Before Church ‘His’tory…

Before Church ‘His’tory…

There was a deep blue sea
brimming over with life…
the land was sweet
like a honey comb.

Its very essence oozed—
its ‘source’ full and never ending.

The skies were alive—
birthed with wonders
only the imagination
could fathom.

The world was rich in sustenance…
ALL things sacred
breathing the endless
dawning of NEWNESS.

There was NO-thing as a day…
The understanding of time
was the ebb & flow
of the rivers curling
around each enhancing tributary.

There were no rules to be had…
No dogmas to be laid out…
Everything seemed to grasp
the eternal womb of LOVE…
bursting in embryonic fluids—
feeding every vein flowing with
blood rich & pure.

Arteries & capillaries
filled the heart pulsating
at the very core of infinity.

The center need not be
understood for it
was within the very essence
of dwelling itself.

No hands ordained need consecrate
the bread consumed—
for communion was the very
opening of community…
joining hands in ONENESS,
in harmony
THAT consecrated the very ACT
of ‘BODY’ now ingested
filling all
with what transubstantiates—

AND, no one was left hungry.
No one excluded
nothing left out.

The table was the wet
quilt of the ground
swelling with joy
as everyone ate of its fullness.

So much
lay before
the printed words,
In the Beginning…

And while my heart treasures
the wisdom within the pages…
I’m discovering the ceasingly
mysterious symphony
that danced into being
far before any sense
of knowing.

I’m held here
as if in NO space—
stars colliding
painting new galaxies
within the stirrings of
my heart.

This is

It was before all
things until it
‘fogged’ over

by those who
cannot BELIEVE
in the miracles
they preach.

The simple words
speak in me—
“Forgive them for they
know not what they do.”

Camino—Day 29

Camino—Day 29

April 23rd















Last evening I kept thinking, “Today, yes this very day, your Camino has ended.  Tomorrow when you wake, it will begin again…never the same as yesterday— for yesterday is gone.
Today begins something new.”

I’m uncertain if ‘this’ thought came because I am drawing nearer to my destination,
but this feels surreal—

The Camino calls me to live each day as ‘A Way’—a way of being conscious, clear,
and mindful when clarity is far removed.

Each morning as my eyes lift the lashes still drizzled with sleep dust, what is the
first thing I bring to my mind?  Do I welcome the silence, do I hear my breath, do I
pause in gratitude for all that is in this single moment?  These questions consume
my being before my feet touch the floor.  Have I begun my day in an expression of
gratitude?  As I the face the world, I want to sing out only THANKFULNESS!!!

‘If I forget to offer thanks and begin rushing to the affairs of the world, to family,
and friends…I ask You, God of my being, to slow me down—to invite me to reflect
about my running from You—my not sitting quietly—my not focusing on the gift
of life You have given me so freely.’

What will I allow or not allow to pass from my lips today?  Will I let myself get
caught up in worldly successes, other events, programs, retreats?  ‘Spirit’ says,
Be Content—Be Content—Be Content!”

I’m not the same as yesterday.  I’m a day older.  Perhaps, I am a bit grayer (that
does not mean wiser).  STILL, I’m Sandy.

The one (I) who began this Camino am nearer to ‘its’ completion—realizing it
begins anew each day.

Will I walk the rest of my days on Earth in ‘LOVE?’  Can I NOT work so hard at
being who I’m NOT and embrace the me others will try to change?

I can hear, “That’s not the real world, Sandy.”

My world is real—NOW!!!
No one sees it, but I do.  I’m NOT posting on the internet so to give it evidence or
proof.  The ‘sense’ within is transformational and it is ENOUGH—
I need nothing more than ALL I already have.

My most important ‘treasures’ are the friendships I have made and the ones I’ve
lost in life.

I have learned most by ‘LOVING’—by risking.  I never would change me because
every moment in my life has made me who I am this day.

I cannot stop expressing ‘THANKS.’



There was a time
when the white buffalo
looked out from its
mountain top
and saw the valleys
teeming with life.

The herds
grazed in the vast
young ones were born
frolicking, playful
and unafraid…

Their mighty hooves
the ground—shaking
could be heard & felt for miles.
A dust storm
settled once the
community found
a place to be.

But now the
white buffalo
looks out—
a silent tear
runs from
the corner of its eye…

A silent ‘grunt’
echoes across the land
‘Come back’
‘Come back’
‘Come back.’

Do we hear?
we’re responsible for
their demise.

Can we bring them back
before we, too,
are no longer?

Camino—Day 28

Camino—Day 28

April 22nd

“…Just like moons and the suns, with the certainty of tides, just like hopes
springing high, Still I’ll rise…”                                                                                                         

                                                                                                        ~~~Maya Angelou


This morning I was given three options…I could embark on one of three separate
roads which would ultimately connect along the path and lead to THIS day’s

Path three would guide me into the mountains.  One was encouraged to travel
alongside someone because the “Way” markers were NOT always easily visible.
The vistas were beyond amazing as the guidebook pointed out.  My entire being
responded, “YES” and then it breathed…softly proclaiming, “No.”  Not long ago,
my ego would not have bothered to read the other options.  Of course, I
would have thought, “This IS the ONLY way.”

Path two wound through some steep grades—markers were clear and the guide
book described the stunning vistas that one would view.  The path circled itself
away from the sounds of traffic.

Path one offered the most direct route alongside the roadway and the river.  It
was a serene path—no hidden obstacles, no steep grades, no narrow passages…it was
covered with trees blocking the sun, providing shade and detouring heavy
amounts of rain.  We’ve reached that ‘part’ of the Camino where rain IS the
forecast…the winds from the Atlantic Ocean in priceless harmony with the majestic
mountains. As I’m writing, lightning and thunder display a beauty all their own,
while the cows in the valley, just below my window, have bedded down.  The
bells that were heard clanging around their necks rattled about in between each
break of thunder.

I embarked upon path one—there was a softened sense of humility in this choice
for me.  As soon as I STEPPED out the door, the rain began to fall.  Some-THING,
Some-one was/is guiding my steps because to be on the other paths during
inclement weather carries great risks.  Even in sunny weather, the trail has its
hidden hazards.  Mindfulness is a constant refrain.

The persistent sound of raindrops pecking at my gear was delightful.  It wasn’t a
cold day so the rain became my welcome companion.

There was a brief moment of clearing.  Before me, a rainbow…its colors unfolded
with a brilliant vibrancy between the casts of darkened clouds.

Each day parallels life—
Always changing, never the same and always filled with wonder…
I am ONE with the roadway and the river…


In Search of a Star

In Search of a Star

A lanky little child
was born.

She was different—
others let her know
(not always in the
kindest of ways)

Over the years
she grew in wisdom
and knowledge.

Others said she was
whatever that meant.

One day she set out
in search of a star.

She tripped over
rocks and twigs—

she stumbled through
a pile of leaves
staying awhile because
it was such fun.

Fog set in and she
couldn’t see anything
so she ‘waited’
learning the ‘gift’ of
ACTION in the wait.

As the way cleared
itself, she ran
through streams—
soaked and shivering.

She huffed and puffed
over sand dunes—
the scorching heat
drained her,
but she pressed on.

Forest friends
placed nuts in
her path so she
was ALWAYS full…

BUT her HEART was
empty (so she thought)
because the star she
sought could not be found.

She laid down
in a flower strewn
valley, falling fast
asleep until she
was woken by a splash.

Drenched she was
in the night sky—
it spilled itself upon her.

She rubbed her eyes
and rubbed them again…

The yellow field of flowers
lifted her—
she rose in splendor…

She was a star
her search over
yet, the light in her—
only NOW begun.

(Inspired by the Gospel of Matthew 2:1-12…The Epiphany)

What’s Up Doc?

What’s Up Doc?

The bushels of carrots ARRIVED…one after another—
it began with small ‘nibbles’ and then grew to ‘CRUNCH’—GULP

A complete METAMORPHOSIS…a ‘tail‘ of Transformation…

What a ‘silly’ WABBIT…

Hmmmmmmmmmm—wonder who is under all that fur?

Camino—Day 27

Camino—Day 27

April 21st

Today…the sun ‘needed’ time to make its way over the mountains and into the valleys.
My soles have stretched for each terrain they gently grip.  At times my mind drifts.
I’ve no idea where I am and where I’m walking.  A stone in the path ‘connects’ with the arch of my foot…the exact spot that echoes a refrain—‘OUCH‘…my ‘soft,’ NOW CALLOUSED BLISTER causes me to walk carefully.  My ‘stick,’ a beloved companion.  I’m feeling sad thinking what it will be like when we say our ‘goodbyes.’  ‘She’ has carried me, held my weight,
brought me to each location when my tired being cried out, “Camino—lift me just a little longer.”
I cannot tell you from where comes my ‘inner’ strength, that internal engine that finds that ‘gear’
held in reserve for the EXACT moment.  ‘Thank you’ has become a word passing from my
lips again and again.

Holy gratitude…Holy it is.  If you don’t like the term (I’m tired of political correctness), know that I have found a deep reverence for all things (people included)— HOLY!

I’ve arrived in Villafranca, my place to stay: Hostel La Puerta del Perdon—I’m
greeted over and over with welcome, warm refreshing hospitality.  My room…the
first with images of the sea…nautical maps, ships in a bottle, a solitary woman
looking out at the ocean.

The room is painted blue matching the painted sky outside my window.  There is
sand in a vase and a sea lily beside my bed.  In this NOW, I’m held as if in the curl of
a wave.  I’m resting in that hidden arch of a womb where there is that unknowing
moment of nothingness before the wave crashes in on itself, a power unrestrained, and
NEVER a moment that one single drop is not connected with every splash of wholeness.
I look up AGAIN…an image of three women drawing water from a well…

I AM never alone.  Muchas Gracias Camino!















Castillo Palacio de los Marqueses

“Jesus says, “If you bring forth that which is within you, it will save you. If you do not bring forth, it will destroy you.”
~~~Gospel of Thomas Quote 70



I’ve heard spoken—
In fact, I’ve listened, and

Was it really TRUTH?

I believe it was
but, a cloud appeared
over the ones who
spoke of YOU.

I believed them.
But, when I sat
with them they
were not ‘living’ TRUTH.

I ran away—
Yes, I moved on as
far as I could.

ALWAYS, truth seemed
around me…
cradling me…
calling me back…

Letting me know—
TRUTH is never easy


once it is out
you can no longer go
back to what was.

Truth has a way of
setting you apart.

It disturbs others…
their ‘perfect worlds.’

They conjure up
all kinds of reasons
separate from truth
and yet—in its name.

Their busy lives—
Their ‘group’—
why they’d betray
their kind if they
acknowledged the truth—
they’d be set ‘out’—EXILED.

Truth does set one
it helps one to see

with greater clarity

that in truth
we are not
so far apart.


Camino—Day 26

Camino—Day 26

April 20th


This day’s path asked of me to leave a stone from my homeland.  I left not only a
stone, but a flood gate of tears—

Even before standing at Cruz de Ferro (Pile of Burden)—cross at the highest point (1,504m)
of The Way of St James (French Way), in Foncebadon…my emotions stirred—

I could not begin to understand why or from where my tears came…and, it did not
matter.  It was NOT sorrow…it was some-thing beyond bliss…no word could fill all
that ‘beat’ in my heart—

The ascent to ‘this’ place…hauntingly serene was exhausting, but I felt I was in
some magical garden…life bursting at every seam.

Yes, I brought a stone.  But, not only one.  I brought a stone from my sis of heart who asked me to lay it down for her.  So much emotion in her heart-shaped stone which she found in
the Grand Canyon.  One day she’ll walk this way and she’ll know her burden has already
been laid down.  Another kindred spirit ‘gifted’ me with a shell before I left home.  I told her where I would leave her shell.  She ‘holds’ so many persons near, and this day as I put down the shell, I prayed her arms were a little lighter—she loves fully.  AND, my stone…it was one I shared with a ‘Pal’ back home.  The word printed on it—‘SILENCE.’  I gently placed silence on
the pile with the other stones.  It was NOT because it has been a burden—it has been
a gift…freedom from useless noise, chatter.  Now I’ll bathe in the joy of tears…the
droplets that form—BECAUSE…

Every step I walked…Creation’s Temple.

I Knew You like No Other

I Knew You like No Other

I was absolutely certain
I knew how to explain you,
define you, imagine you.

Then ‘some-thing’ happened.
I cannot quite put my finger
on it—
You no longer made sense.
My answers no longer

NOW, bombarded with questions—
this unknowing…
All answers disappeared
without a trace.

As a result,
I’ve become softer,
much more pliable.

I’ve fallen in love with the
numerous questions my heart seeks.

They are like the gentle pounding
of a drum (these questions)
tapping along to the rhythm
of the wind
and then echoing the
uninterrupted silence.

I knew you then—like no other…
but now I know YOU
and no longer have a
reason to explain you

You are in ALL things—
ALL things are in me—

This Oneness
NO certainty can
take away.

Camino—Day 25

Camino—Day 25

April 19th


…(Wisdom) seems to go underground for a while; one loses the thread.  Then, in ways inexplicable to linear causality, it pops up again.  It re-creates itself over and over, so it seems, in the minds and hearts of those who have been taught (or discovered on their own) how to listen & see.  It never really goes away, and it always comes back in fresh new form, customized to the conditions of the world.”
Cynthia Bourgeault—The Wisdom Way of Knowing

The face of the terrain changes before my eyes…snow capped mountains appear
before me.  The sun at my back stretches the curtain from night to dawn…trees
blossoming, a green hilly landscape beneath my feet…the wind making its welcome known AND my step ‘revived.’  Somewhere ‘within’—a new rush of
adrenaline, and my body—every living, breathing cell, in unison gives gratitude to

I took this day to walk ever ‘conscious’ of St James…mindfully I was aware, he, a
brother of Jesus.  They walked together.  James heard Him speak…he listened to the same parables over and over AND never tired of following Him.  After Christ was crucified, James’ life CHANGED.  He heard Jesus talk about what was coming,
what would be when He was gone.  What NOW?  James and the others hid
themselves…nothing was really clear.  THEN, a change came over ‘ALL’ of them.
What they said they believed SUNK in and now believing BECAME a living
moment.  James went a way he NEVER could have envisioned, but he journeyed
attempting to SPREAD a transformative message of LOVE.

It is a bit of a paradox—as James walked ‘THIS CAMINO’ it’s understood that ONLY about seven persons ‘listened’ and followed—NOW, here is the BEST part of my
walk with James…TODAY, THIS MOMENT—if James were present and trying to
‘book’ speaking engagements to SHARE A GOSPEL OF LOVE—James would be asked, “What kind of tools do you have to SHOW your success?  We need to know
this before we book a program with YOU as the facilitator!”  I can ‘see’ James’
expression, a look of ‘what are you talking about?’  “I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU OF LOVE.”  James would NOT pack a house so his message would get put on some back burner and he would be told, “No hard luck—you can try again next year.”:  James was NOT trying to ‘glorify’ himself…I’m not even sure he understood ‘ego’ development BUT, then again, maybe he did.  He hung out with a lot of men…all changed because of the life of  the man, Jesus.

James did not shout out, “WORSHIP HIM.”  He did not even say, “YOU MUST be SAVED.”  He spoke of His life, His death AND His rising into the fullness of ALL Creation ‘extending’ this gift to ONE and ALL—EVERYONE!

Heaven is eternal AND it is here NOW.  James did not speak of Hell, of fire and
brimstone—he spoke of METANOIA…A NEW WAY of SEEING…turning our hearts
and minds ONLY to Love.

James is gone, BUT he’s changed MORE than the lives of seven persons.  Numbers
of pilgrims walk this road conscious or unconscious of James and the vision he
hoped to bring into THIS world.   People don’t STOP coming.  Even those without
a FAITH background have come back a second time, a fifth time, and eleventh time
AND proclaimed, “I’m NO LONGER the same…I’m less judgmental, I don’t become so
defensive anymore, I’ve let go, I’m still the same, but I’m different.”  Get it?  You
don’t have to.  Persons with FAITH don’t take themselves so seriously anymore or
they no longer put themselves in places that are not life-giving.

James, if you were here today—I still don’t believe you’d be invited to speak…not because your ‘record’ indicates you were onto something, but I think your simple sandals, small carry pack, NO cell phone would lead people to view you as some radical (you sound like a radical FEMINIST—I get that).  They’d say you DON’T BELONG in our world…
(What do you mean you’re not on Facebook?)

Where has the real world gone?
People out for themselves…

If Jesus showed up again, He’d have a band of 12 women!  (Not that He didn’t
have a following).  AND, the veil in the Temple would be torn in three instead of two—three because it would eliminate dualities and you’d ALWAYS need the third piece for the two to be WHOLE again.

So, James…thanks for today’s WALK—I pray a little of YOU lives in me.

A Table for Two

A Table for Two

He sat at the table…
what seemed minutes,
were the passing of hours.

He ‘looked’ over—
there she was.
So many memories ago…
her smile caressed his heart.

He asked if she’d join
him at this exact table.
She said, “yes.”
They sipped lattes,
ate biscottis—
laughing, talking as
if they’d known each
other for a life-time.

Years would pass—
they would come to
this table and sit.
You could see the glee
in his eyes…
Her smile held him
and she never tired
of his hand wrapped
around hers.

New responsibilities, their children,
took them from the table.
Yet, they still made time
for a sip of java
and walked away in
each other’s arms.

More time had passed—
silver streaks painted
their hair.
They sat at their table—
No words exchanged…
for some reason the words
no longer necessary.
The language of their lives
TOGETHER spoke volumes.

More time to sit again—
their children, adults…
out in the world creating
their own pathways—
finding their own TABLE.

Today he sat…
the chair across from him
empty.  He looked as if
she’d be there any
minute now.

Silently, tears fell from
his eyes.
He sipped a drink
asking for a little
extra sugar.
It still had a bitter taste
to it but he could
REMEMBER everything.

He left the table
not quite finishing his
something, someone
touched his hand.

He looked back—
and knew her presence
there the whole while.

He walked on
down to the cemetery
and he held her
laughing deep within.

Valentine’s Day

Let EVERY day be Love

Camino—Day 24

Camino—Day 24

April 18th

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.  Now I know
only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”                                                                                                                                                            1 Corinthians 13:12















Walking Along Bell Towers…

The sound of the bells in the majestic towers can be heard ‘clanging’ in the distance.
Soon I’m standing in their hallowed echoing chamber—CLANG, CLANG, CLANG…
the vibrations ring through ‘all’ fibers of my dwelling place.

Now…I AM mindful of the bell tower and the clanging between my ear-drums—ENDLESS.
The continuity of the ringing bells limits my ability to hear, to listen.
Still, with the clanging—beating, beating, beating I AM learning to ALLOW the
NOISE to become MUSIC—sweet intoxicating songs welling up inside me.  When
the clanging ceases, I AM left with a melodious symphony of silence…untouched.

My mind holds this space as if two hands joined in prayer—EVERY moment of life
a meditation of extraordinary wonder.

The bells toll—I walk singing as I go…Wisdom in the wakes of every stanza unwritten.

Within the Flame

Within the Flame

The flame
within the fire
cannot be touched
without being burned.

Yet, the flame
within the fire
ignites the heART

layers of wax
melt down—
warmth embraces
the silent sojourners

and they discover
their Oneness
beyond the unforseeing
inability to touch.

The Reaper

The Reaper

There is an hour
in the day
hence, the reaper comes.

No, not the one
separating the wheat
from the chaff—
(The reaper loves both).

The reaper’s arrival
comes with the moon’s
rising and the sun’s
melting descent.

The moment, this hour…
the elements—moon,
and sun separated
so it seems
by a small thin veil.

Actually this invisible
veil unites moon and sun
always within reach of
one another.

The reaper comes
yes, in ‘this’ hour—
so much obscurity
and with sickle in
hand NOT to separate

but to carefully—
ever so gracefully…
pull back the
veil ever so slightly

to allow the
blending chaos
to make its way
into newness.

This hour—
I sit
awaiting the reaper
and, before my
life becomes
once again.

Concussion vs Superbowl Sunday

Concussion vs Super Bowl Sunday

A gentle man traveled to
America—to make a difference.
He would have
NO idea just how…

A Business—cashing in
on lives…husbands, fathers, brothers, uncles…
never the same, yes, sons
(in the moment—HEROES)
until they are no
longer recognizable
to their families.


The Doctor mocked,
belittled, discredited…
The league trying ‘everything’
to disassemble
the evidence
while ‘minds’ get
hammered and no one
‘sees’ the cost
of the blows—

Ahhhhhh…but this
Doctor brought it to
LIGHT.  So, what
must we do?
REMOVE him.”

This parallels the scripture passage
of the man healed by Christ…
the man possessed by
LEGION (many demons).

Christ heals him by
casting the demons within the
man into a herd of
swine which then
plummet over the hillside.

The people see the healed
man BUT they do
not rejoice.
Instead, they tell Jesus—


Why?  He’s removed their
livelihood, their means!
(Couldn’t they come up with
another WAY with their
healed brother to HELP?)


The Doctor said, “God
did not intend man
to play football.”

The outcry, “WHAT?

Will Smith personified
Dr. Bennet Omalu—
His performance sheer brilliance…

he received NO REWARD
he was ONLY the
star in the film.

What sideline will
you gaze from this

It’s Superbowl Sunday

dip your ‘chips’
into the many platters
created for THIS


sink your
teeth into TRUTH.

I think I’ll be

Camino—Day 23

Camino—Day 23

April 17th

“We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time…”                    ~~~T. S. Eliot

Leaving the City Behind…

The lights of the Cathedral were visible as I looked back… (I didn’t turn to STONE).

I pressed forward, tired.  Something about the BIG Cities…I don’t sleep.
It is easy to get sucked into the whirlwind pace—the lure of shops—‘come and buy, come and buy.’  Already, I’ve given away items from my pack that I did NOT need and what I have is still more than enough…BUT, to put SOME-THING into my carry bag means EXTRA-weight on my back.  Restaurants, bars, EVERYTHING one seeks is readily available, and if one doesn’t like something, next door—another shop.

Hosts are different in the cities.  To them you’re a customer.  You place your order, pay the bill, sit a moment.  Workers cannot ‘chat.’  Business is paramount.

Cars are speeding along…a taxi on every corner offers the pilgrim a lift.  One has to be mindful when crossing the road.  TRAFFIC does NOT stop.

MY mind is spinning.  There is the constant need to rush, to hurry, to get there.
My being understands this ‘pace’—unfortunately.  Yet, I’m fortunate enough to recognize it
(at least in this moment) and allow myself space to BREATHE.

Before I know it, I’m walking ALONE.  There is no one in front of me AND the city is lost behind me as the sun takes the stage.  I hear NOTHING and it is beautiful—my feet begin to dance to ‘silence’s’ BEAT (blisters and all).  The birds join in.  I can hear the ruffling of their feathers as they shake off the morning’s dew.  I attempt to do the same as my feathered friends—oops, I step into a mud puddle…my soft tan pants NOW a bright crimson.  And, I laugh aloud.

I’ve come to a small pilgrim village.  Outside, I spot elders sweeping their mud walkways.  A lovely Crone is cleaning her windows and at the balcony’s ledge she has fresh cookies.  She ‘sees’ me and, with a grandmother’s love, echoes “Buen Camino” again and again.
Por favor…have a cookie (NO CHARGE).  She smiles with delight AND, in the MOMENT, it is the very best COOKIE in the whole wide world.  Women, yes women, seem to know what the pilgrims need to make it to the NEXT mile.  Somehow these gentle women are visible at the right time.

The other day when I arrived in Mansilla de Las Mulas, I spotted a beautiful aged woman with glorious white flowing hair gazing out her window.  I was ‘looking’ for a marker AND from behind the glass window, “SHE POINTED”—SHE knew AND then SHE blew me a kiss.  I felt it and I still feel it lingering on my cheek.  I’m out of the city—the welcome is back.
“We have been WAITING for you.”

I know I’ll sleep tonight.




Each of us
is a prophet
called by NAME…

What is the message you hope to share?
What is your vision? Your joy?
Who is it for…yourself?

This ONLY you can answer.

Who gains by what pours out of you?
Again ask—
is it yourself?

Listen to yourself prophet—
is your understanding of wisdom
mocked? Laughed at? Belittled?
Misunderstood? REJECTED?

Are you seen as one who often is reminded,
“You need to get with the times.”

Walk your path, ‘prophet’—
your foot prints can go
no other way

AND your invitation to others
allows them to embrace their own steps.

Camino—Day 22

Camino—Day 22

April 16th


Stained Glass Window…

The mighty Cathedral stood in the center of the plaza…one hundred twenty-five stained glass images each telling a story of the Gospels and the legends of the Saints.  The chief function of the medieval church—to instruct the illiterate.  AMAZINGLY, the people saw the LIGHT in each story.

As the sun ‘pinched’ the glass sending a glorious array of colors throughout the ‘dark’ haven of the church’s ‘inner’ structure, this cathedral was ONE that allowed the light to ENTER.  The ‘ones’ who understood—the ONES who did NOT spend time ‘thinking,’ BUT instead, LIVED the message—REFLECTED BACK narratives of the holiness of God they became.

I AM ‘immersed’ as if ONE of these people…PILGRIMS!

Yesterday…many of us who began the Camino in St. Jean three weeks earlier, learned that two pilgrims who embarked with us died on that snowy trail.  As I write, I cannot hold back my tears.

As I walked today, I saw a woman with her husband.  She was in much pain, but she WALKED—each step a memory.  When she returns HOME…depending on how far she is able to travel…her leg will be amputated.  Another gentleman promised his BELOVED he would carry her to the END OF THE WORLD.  He spreads her ashes along the WAY…the last stop—FINISTERRE (The End of the World) and he will have fulfilled his promise.

Each story is ANOTHER stained glassed window…ANOTHER Gospel TRUTH revealed, lived, celebrated, grieved, broken, healed and, yes, REBORN into the Cosmic reality of the ETERNAL NOW.  All things are part of each other… NOTHING separate…the LIGHT has dispelled any separation.

Spread your Wings

Spread your Wings in prayer…