Me, Myself & Eye Blog

  when the seed is planted, it grows unaware of what it will become. all it knows is becoming.   i had the opportunity and honor to watch my son and his high school jazz band perform at the prestigious essentially ellington competition in new york city this weekend.  it was a coming together of…

it’s been a long, crooked road. it’s been a long crooked life!   life, as it turns out, is not a straight line.   it zig-zags from here to there and from there to here … races up only to plunge back down and, often, as my young students like to point out, it feels like…

transformation. it beckons me so … to stand up tall and face the sun – to be what is necessary – to accept what will become.   there’s something in the spring – an excitement – anticipation.   all around nature is erupting.   the curious crocus bursts through winter’s slumber, squirrels scurry about with unearthed wonders and…

  the snow is falling gently – silently – a reverie of death reminding me of the cycle of life – that birth follows death – that i have been here before.   you are not who you think you are. you are not your clothes, or the car you drive – what you live…

when snowflakes, rain and leaves are lost in the fall, there is no fear – no hesitation, no clinging. there is only rejoicing, for when they return to the earth they are found once again.    when i was seven i became lost in a neighboring town.   i was following my friend’s older brother as…

here, in my imagination, i believe. here in my mind i am aware. here in my heart i am faithful. here, with my feet on this earth, trusting, i am jesus. i can walk on water.   During a recent discussion on emotional intelligence, our group was prompted to contemplate the definition of success through…

my dear, beloved brother-in-law died today.   life is happening.  i pull away. and, with each person that i loose, i come closer to my death. my mind and body work together to shield my heart – to stave the inevitable away. my gut pulls in and my breath constricts, and, i am choked by…

and, still, the voices rose from the pile of ash and stone.  i could hear them echo across the valley … carried by the wind. i could feel them in my lungs as they struggled for the breath to be expressed – how they longed to be heard – and how these footsteps carefully followed…

it’s autumn. somewhere, a child stands on the rocky shore of a placid pond. he holds in his hand a carefully chosen stone slim and smooth so selected for its ability to glide effortlessly between water and air.   with a slight turn of his head and a flick of the wrist it’s sent heralding…