So Satisfied I’m On My Way …

Get going in the right direction. Which one is that? What is right currently? The basics have even shifted a couple of notches & when the directions change, which is right?

I guess it’s the one you’re in. it’s that “being in the present” thing. I can’t give you specific proof of my memories. Oh, maybe put you in touch with the Akashic Records, soon as I find the remote.

In a world where there is so much influence to remove us from basic cues on how to live in the world, I feel I have come through that particular (particulate?) tunnel. I see a lot more relationships. Many have sad stories to tell; they beg your appreciation. But my feelings may not align with sadness, tho my heart is capable of doing so. It seems my heart is capable of so many more things than I had ever thought.

Every day the most elusive of thoughts swims by, rare items never to appear again to me. I’d love to capture these. Often I am so certain I will remember I surrender them immediately. They disappear, torn apart by the fabric of my coherence being greeted by the growling world which needs these words. I am happy to have surrendered them as I know they will be encountered – one at a time.

 I love hearing a thought I have already thought. It unites me into engagement like a cell receptor key activates its charge.

My answers won’t really work for anyone else anyway. They’ll have to tweak them to get them to fit…thrust out a leg or something to line it up. They will do whatever it takes if they are inclined to think a new thought. Out here new thoughts move polka-dot out from the center. They move with  you & can, at times, bombard you with otherness of translation. For these, you need not engage the brain, indeed, the brain is too disconnected up there, preoccupied with brainy things; many times reactions are pushed down in the system. If they get below the heart, the real brain, events can take on & emit so much more energy.

Well, don’t stumble up any stairs on my replay. I am amazed to have touched you. I live in an unlikely town at an unlikely time. Eternity spreads her skirts & invites me to sit to watch, or at least send a representative to do that, while all journeys continue toward the Center of the Spiral. Take with you only that which will ruthlessly serve your unfoldment.  


My Prayer for Ferals

Is it forgiven if you pray it that? Even if you’re not always kind?

We live now & then, like Ferals. It can be on any wavelength: emotional, spiritual, physical, pineal. (Pretty much you can count on physical to accompany any of them.) It’s all of the above getting through as best as can. After a point one forgets completely about, “’Scuse me,” after an unexpected burp. In fact, I welcome the burp so I can watch myself not react.

Everywhere each of us has attuned to environment differently. In many cases, travel changes that. Reducing the ring to one key reduces it irrevocably. I, (who seemed so stunningly, daringly, original & intrepid …) such an Individual…

I set out alone only to find I was one in a long line. I could choose how long I wanted that line to be.  (Not like now when choices are made for us), but in a time when a choice meant where you might spend years of your life.

At times, we choose the longer line.

As a years-younger woman, I wanted to believe I could live like a bird. I wanted my habitat to precede me. I wanted it waiting for me as part of my all-around landing. I was amazed others did not think thoughts like me!

I grew up on the beach, as eternal & in-the-moment changeable as any element can be.

I confess it now to be a knowing. I could live like a bird. I could sing for my supper. I had not tried to name it before, feeling it was enough. Once we got together, though, she’s cut miles off my route. All it took was an exchange of names. Then came the Winters of our Discontent, flowering in below-ground cellars. However we’ve had time to grow into each other & interesting years to do so,

It gotten to be that whenever we come to a crossroads & check in, we both shrug & say “no matter.” (It never does if you’re plugged into at least the vista.)

I have been so slow in my awakening, other worlds have invaded the one of my visions. I have gotten off here, at this particular timeline, this colossal universe named for food. I’ve stayed a long while. Maybe even over-stayed; up to you.

In my campout days I woke to find the world around the tent had clarified – almost atomized – a face-full of Now. I made my marks on it, hot water & coffee, a poise upon the picnic bench all steam, aroma & a face-full of sunbeam.

I learn late the lessons in of my “last hours of ancient sunlight.”* I am close to the Jump, but not saying yet, I don’t give a damn.

I want someone laying a little Boddhisattva on me for a change.

*–Thom Hartman: The Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight

A Small Flotilla of Poems

 A small flotilla of poems for the aquatically challenged. 


why new jersey girls go barefoot:       sand

why new mexico girls do not:              cactus


mother gaia knows me – she could pick up my scent anywhere I’ve been.

and any-when.

i don’t try to be untrackable, it’s just i prefer to be untraceable.

more random wisdom for a random age.

teach your self-talk out loud.

be sure to hear it with both ears as it is meant to be heard

bloody as a fairytale

unbecoming as days in front of a mirror

            marking change

being strong

instead of beautiful.


i don’t remember wanting to be a princess.

i knew from an early age i am only  a queen.

queens don’t get  a day off,

not if they’re doing the job right.

queens don’t give into presumption

they own that!

all it takes to be one is a remarkable memory

with a good education.

queens are an acquired taste, but there it is, nonetheless.

queens disdain working for others

but often despair of working for themselves.

they never should go into any family business.

we always observe the “no queens permitted” signs.

queens are often found along the stairways of their own palaces,

midway up or midway down.

wrapped in a cloak, they often face the wind

blowing away the secrets offered

queens are oracles of change

for better or worse in the kingdom.

queens surmount the barriers

then return to show the way.


new mexico is a land shaped by wind

telling long stories over sage & chaparral

we keep thinking an ending may occur

a solution to be had just over the next

endless horizon, if we pay attention.

really, there’s only mystery

the wind blows upward

seeding clouds with sand

there’s a blue beyond the color

we know as blue

this sky. this air. this wind.

we harvest what we plant

we walk in the gardens seeded by our own mouths

seasoned by our own water

willed into more than survival.


the light’s a little tilted

the spectra of other realms

we have a view now

above & below

like underwater cameras, dipping.

we are no longer individuals

as we clamor & bang our pots

to get the attention of God

(who’s been keeping up all along,

indeed, reflecting back to light our way.)


the three blind mice

squared off & began

quartering the space

profligate thoughts

tossed back & forth

among the three

to this day,

i have no idea

if they ever got out.


this world is full of consonants

the softening of vowels

lost in a well of expletives:

karate chop words

what happens in a world full of curses?

it is becalmed: the steady balance

of beauty, divinity, sacred pushback lost

until the “cursors” re-ignite with love

enough to tilt us home

nature bites back, burying curses into nullity

achieving blessing.

carol borsello MARCH 2021