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O’ That muse, an intriguing beast she is.  Apparently coming and going at Her own will, like a summer breeze or a winter flood.  What mortal could know her ways?  I am always happy to feel her around and miss her exquisite presence during the always too long absence.  But i suppose, if she were around all the time, the sheen of her magic may fade into pastels – so I won’t complain.

We’ve been friends for so long now, though i think she was beside me long before i was aware of her.  I think she liked to lurk like a shadow, ducking away if i might turn to see – maybe she is shy.  But with time, we’re more intimate now, she will reveal her feathers more fully . . . her translucent beauty, like sunlight reflecting on water.

Honestly, I don’t know how i could get by without her.  cold and dark and colorless this plane might be if there were no fireflies amidst crimson bamboo.  Yet, i’m certain she is invisible to those not of a Poet’s Heart; how parched it must be.

Sometimes when she is away I try to muster a call out to her, but she never listens – she is stubborn that way.  Maybe it is that I have to share her and that she is out wiggling her bemusing wand with another – that is fine, i’m happy to share even though i know she has many sisters.

Once i thought i found her little hideout cave, but i can’t be sure.  She wouldn’t say either way.  she is a bit elusive like that, somewhat ambiguous.  i think she likes mysteries, secrets, and things hidden just out of sight – only hints and peripheral sensations, never quite revealing anything directly.  so you have to listen very carefully to glipse her offerings.

aMusing indeed, and grateful i am.  how else could it be?

. . . it’s all clear

what the hell?
i mean
all this coming
and going,
yet never leaving
this same place.
how can that be?

it would all be something
if it weren’t for capitalism
or so-called
“private property”
that keeps me moving
all the time, rent you know . . . .

it’s hot.
the garden beckons,
these empty buckets
call me to the creek
now that the spring
has gone dry.

oh yes,
and some wood to chop.
it might all seem quite zen-like
if it weren’t spoiled by now,
all this talking about it.

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Hey all ~ we’re on a mission, and wondering if you have any ideas / contacts that might be helpful:

We’re trying to help a Buddhist Nun from Burma. She was supposed to return to Burma when her visa ran out, but because of the strife and danger in Burma right now, she cannot go home. She has been granted refuge status in California, so she can remain here in America for awhile longer. But, she is in need of a place to live somewhere in the Southern California area. They are able to pay about $500 a month, and we’re hoping to connect with someone who might be willing to rent a room to her for a few months (maybe longer if it all works out). She cannot come to Oregon because her refuge status is only granted in California.

It would be ideal to find someone who was connected with the Buddhist community; but anyone who is spiritually minded and willing to engage with someone like her would also be greatly appreciated. She does speak English, is 36, has been a nun her entire life, and does have a car.

Please respond with any thoughts/idea/avenues to pursue that might occur to you. Many thanks for any help.

AAEC – Political Cartoon by Larry Wright, Detroit News – 01/11/2008:

A good friend of mine passed a book on to me last fall, which I have only recently picked up and am yet barely 70 pages into. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, by Dee Brown, an Indian history of the American West; and I understand there may be an (HBO?) movie which I have not seen.
A passage I read through last night struck me directly, particularly considering current circumstances – Little Crow, a Santee Sioux, August 1862:

Why was it that the Americans talked so much of peace, and yet they themselves waged such a savage war that they had no money left to pay their debts?