Possessions speak to us all day long.That book you purchasedBut have never readSays“Read me!”And the empty shelf Says “fill me up with more.”Some possessions warm and nurtureWhile others distract, dissuade, and even harm.If we are not careful, the things we ownCan siphon off our strength.Or they can build us up,Make us better.So choose carefully what you ownAnd don’t be afraid of letting goOf a thing When it no longer serves The purpose for which it was purchased.

They say that not all who wander are lost,And that’s true of me, I think. I wander, wander,Never sureExactly where I’m going,But also not without a rough idea.The inner light points in a directionAnd I begin to act, to move step by stepToward the place where it feels that I should go.And I trust the way to open up before me.And it does. That’s the miracleThough it does not comeWithout the workOf exercising faith.I relate to the albatross and its endless worldwide journeys.It is said that the albatross can travel ten thousand milesTo bring home one meal of oily vomit for its chick.Yeah. I think that’s it. Ten thousand milesTo find one little treasure,One morsel To regurgitate here upon the empty page.I find myself wanting to expand upon this work.To share more of what I see and feel,More of the people that I meetAs I wander, wander,Round the world.

A discussion of "Choose Your Story"It is possible to serve the lightFor your own sake?To be Dark inside,Filthy with secret prideWhile outwardly stacking upYour achievements, Allowing othersTo laud your name, And never once realizingThat your soul is lost,Not in gross immorality,But in the actor’s gameThe hypocrites play.Listen closelyTo yourself.Is your story one of redemption?Or is it the hero’s myth?They are not the same story.I have a deep distrust for the latterAnd an unfailing affection for the former.So don’t tell me how you slew the dragon.Tell me about the dragon inside of you.That’s the story I long to hearBecause he lives inside me too,And it is all I can doWith the help of GodTo find my way.

There is the part of me that likes to go outAnd there is the part of me that likes To come back home.And both play a part in the strange way That I support my family,My family.And you are part of my family.I go out, and I come back home.And I share the wisdom that I’ve found from the roadWith the ones I love, the ones I love.I love you, and I pray For you in your own journey.Perhaps one day, you will grow upTo go out and come back homeAnd share your wisdomFrom the road.And the cycle goes round and round,You are my children. And one dayYou will have childrenOf your own.

Lessons from Raymond, the homeless man Who helped prepare me for the road.To view previous lessons, find my playlist entitled: Raymond Lessons.Lesson 11: All Day LongI almost didn’t mention this oneBecause it contradicts Something else That Raymond said.But it has become applicable.You see, I was skeptical When he impliedThat everything came to him without asking.Sometimes, maybe. But always?And so I asked Raymond,Do you ever have to panhandleTo get the things you need?“Yes,” he said.“How much?” I asked.“All day,” he said. “Every day.”“Oh…” I said. And I didn’t like that answer.Because now it appeared that our good fortuneWas a special providence, and thatI would not be able to escape The work of asking.

Many changes are afoot.I stand on the brink Of, yet again, a leap of faith.And somehow, it feels as if These little thoughtsMight just not be enough,As if I should be, do,Something more…Something more…And I wonder,Is it enough?What do you think?Might the world feed me and my little tribeIf I just keep showing up…showing up?Soon we will find out,Won’t we?

I weave your dreams from autumn leaves Turned brown and drifting downwardToward the emptiness Of summer skiesWhen the snow flurriesUpward toward the starlit heavensAnd the moon looks down Upon the restless hopesOf careworn soulsWho daren’t BelieveThat anythingCould be so real As the grind of wheat upon the wheels of time.And the feet of those who’ve gone beforeIn the dusty tracks of themWho couldn’t findTheir way.

Today's poem... and the subject for today's episode.I wonder, If I were someone else,Would I be just like them.I can't help but thinkThat to some degree, I would.That makes me think that it's just meWalking around and being everyone.So many people can't help but be themselves,Just like me, just like everyone.I wish that I could be A better friend to themAnd in turn, a better friend to myself.God help me to see it deeperTo feel myself in the othersThat I meet each dayI pray.

Taking a new format for these podcasts. Today I discuss the thoughts that precipitated the poem of the day:Note to self:People want what they want,And some graciously give,God bless them.But when it comes to making a living,It may be better me to focus on what others wantNot what I want. Sell them somethingThat they are already looking for.And then use the surplus To graciously give.One day, the world will changeTo an economy of gifts.I look forward to that day.But in the meantime, it’s a balance.We work. We sell the people what they want.And then we give of our surplus property.It is an imperfect system. But it works.And perhaps we can use it as a tool To shine a light on the coming world of gifts.

I am the roots of the treeThe thing unseen.I amThere but you can’t see me.You think that it is you,That it is he,But it is weThree.Remember. Oh, remember.And when you think that you’re aloneDraw deep from the unseen place that lingersIn the memory of what you were before you sprungUp from the ground so many years before.There we were together.And thoughYou cannot see me.I have never left you and I never will.I am the source, the wellspring of your deepest desires. And one day, when you’ve grown tired of living,And fall down hard to the unforgiving soil.There I will wait to meet you deepIn the hollowed end, That is beginning.Thank youFor letting me nourish you.I am the roots, and I love youAnd though you think that we are separated,We are not. We cannot be, we three,Are knit together in onenessAlways.