Profound and Sacred

May our intimacies always be
    profound and sacred.

Profound and sacred sharing of our


Touch Touch Touch

More Laughter

Sacred Calling In The Divine
as witness to what we share
what we Create.

Sacred Sharing

Sacred Praise and Blessing for
         This Gift of You.

Reclaiming My Foot

Today I touched my right foot, my fractured ankle right foot, for the first time in a month. It had been under wraps in a too tight large blood blister pain causing splint; in a too heavy, feeling like I’m dragging a 100 pound ball and chain plaster of Paris cast; in lighter yet terribly confining and still too heavy fiberglass casts. I’d not seen my foot, my skin had been untouchable, for weeks.

Today I was free to look and touch. To take a good look at the shriveled, reptile peeling discolored skin, healing blood tattooed blister scabs, the edematous toes, the suture scars, the badly shrunken calf muscle, the clean nicely healed incisions. Today I was finally able to see what one month post fracture, two weeks post surgery does to the human foot.

Today I touched this foot, this fractured appendage which I’d disowned, which I’d only related to in disbelief, incredulity, shock, denial. I had disenfranchised myself from this painful visible evidence of my inconceivable fall, this inconceivable fracture which overnight caused major disruption to my life. I had distanced myself, my heart, my being from this fractured foot.

It caused tremendous pain, especially at night disrupting sleep; it could not be wet; it lay uncomfortably propped on always falling pillows. It was the encumbrance reminding me of the terrible inconceivable life altering fall of January 14, 2012. The fall occurred while walking my two doggies. I’d bent down to adjust one collar and when I stood up, the leash got tangled in my fancy, new, distinctly flawed design of the soles of my Saucony Pro Grid running shoe. The leash wrapped around the fancy “support” round outcroppings of the sole, and suddenly I was lassoed, as in the old cowboy movies. Boom! I was down! No warning! Down I went and landed on my right foot, badly fracturing my ankle.

Today I slowly felt this fractured foot. My foot. I slowly allowed the reality of my injury to curse through me. I took ownership of my mishap, my misfortune, and the ugly repercussions. Today I gently applied a sweet scented body cream to every inch of my poorly neglected foot. I massaged, felt, caressed and poured love and my life back into this so taken for granted vital part of me.
And I cried.

A Time of Richness

I have bathed in the thoughtful words of my old friend Janice these past few days. I have felt the luxury of spending whole days with someone totally trusted, totally non-judgmental, totally comfortable with me, her, us. Sharing precious time together; precious because it is not often spent.

Today I also spent precious time with a new friend Andy. The process of shared discovery in telling who we are.

I said:
I don’t do superficial.
I like to go deep.
Into the very heart and soul of a matter,
into feeling, into movement, into moment.

She said:
Yes, I know.

I didn’t ask her how she knows; I trust she can see.

As I play back this morning’s exchange, I can’t help but note,
in awe and wonder:
That delving into the contemplation of G-d, the Divine,
is the deepest I can go.

Once there, heart fully open,
there comes a joy and aliveness
that knows no bounds.

A burst of sparks and flame which allows
body, mind, heart, soul to be part of the One.

The richness of human communication; a path to the Divine.

A God Infused Time

My dear friend Laura passed.
I wrote this to her family.

There are no words for this time.
This is a sacred time.
God infuses all of your space
your being, your sense of reality.

This is a God infused time because
this is a time of
profound soul work.

Laura’s soul work, as well as your own.

Be exquisitely gentle with yourselves.

I love you.

The Mundane Made Sacred

Each month, as I sit to clip my nails,
a necessary mundane act;
I have reason to Thank the Dead.

Not for the heady, kaleidoscopic
grandeur of their significance
to my life.

Not for their many profound gifts
which crept into my being, my cells,
my knowing of this Dear World
which formed and continues to
inform my daily thoughts and behaviors.

No, each month while performing this mundane act,
I have reason to give it sanctity, with
Their Remembrance,
and gratitude for their
simple, sturdy steel clippers
which I use.

How Do You Talk To A Dying One

Tonight I spoke with my friend Laura
who is dying
who has been dying gradually gracefully
these past seven years

with peaks and valleys of good sometimes better
days and nights
learning to know a body wracked by the devastation
of chemical cocktails brewed with the best intentions
by trusted physicians with license to dispense
patches, wholesale cellular slaughter and pain,
which forestalls, which forestalled for Laura,
the inevitable.

But hospice has been called in
those guardians of the dying
those brave souls who are not afraid to attend
and witness.

Tonight I told her the depth of my love for her.
I told her “I’m not sure this is OK for me to tell you,
but I want to tell you
I want you to know
before you become totally incapable of comprehension,
before the encephalopathy worsens,
I want you to know how terribly I will miss you.”

And I asked if she had forgiven herself,
of everything, of nothing, of the specific thing,
of the little and big things
that we all regret and don’t let go
sometimes till it’s too late.

The act of forgiveness makes necessary
and heartfelt repentance
for some too human wrong
we failed to see at the time.

If needed, could she do this for her daughter,
and she said she yes, of course she could
forgive her daughter for anything
continue to love her….always.
Then can she also forgive herself.

And I asked if she had forgiven the others,
of everything, of the specific thing,
of the little and big things
the too human thing the almost inhuman things
that were done to her.

I could not settle asking about the weather
what she ate the particulars of how her body feels
the specifics of her day.

I had to ask the thing I would want asked of me
as I ready my soul for dying
as I grapple with my soul for living.

The Elixir of Hope

I am in the process of withdrawal
from the elixir of hope
which daily I tasted this past year
with greedy lips accepting anticipation.

You fashioned and threw the cup
on my wheel of life,
you created the vessel.
I boldly filled it
with the brew of dreams, desire
and regular disappointments…
this heady mix of emotions
which daily flamed my blood
entered my mind
caused me intoxication
created the cascade of sweetness
joy longing hope love.

Today upon the fifth anniversary of discovering
death in bed at home
already discolored already cold already
not there not alive not in my life.
The discovery of my wife my loved one my life
no longer being.
Today I longed for death.

Today I contemplated the possible ways
to end the pain
of withdrawal from hope
to end the pain
of loneliness
to end the pain of losing the taste for life
of losing the intoxication of hope.
I howled in pain, I sobbed for hours.

The bubble of the frothy tonic burst
the constellation of sorrows poured
Understanding the insanity of the world
knowing that children still die from
unclean water carried on heads gathered hours away
feeling the pain of the millions of Jews
who have suffered eternally
feeling the loss of my sister whose sweetness
allowed me to creep into her heart
knowing the frailty of all life
the heartache of coming face to face
with who I am who I am not.

All this and of course more so much more that
words can never touch
came crashing down on
my soul reeling from withdrawal.

Today I called Ben and he listened. He heard.
Today I did not succumb.
Today I lack the grace of gratitude which should
accompany the embrace of life.
Today my hold is tenuous.