In All Our Years

Practicing love and kindness for all.

“It was an uncertain Spring.”

“It was an uncertain spring.”
is the first sentence from Virginia Woolf’s last novel,
“The Years”.

It is actually so, an uncertain spring for many of us. Even with, the promise of warmer days and comfortable nights, there is the chance, seeds will not rise from their rest.

We can only hope, and with our motion, commotion and efforts toward our dreams, we will see the uncurling of our soft tender bodies rise and bloom toward the sun.

And we will, appreciate their beauty and marvel in the “uncertain spring” that was before us and we will love.

Virginia did feel her 59th spring, although cold that fateful March day. She loved and was loved. The following are her last words to the one she loved and the one who loved her dearly, in the way he was able to.

“Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.”

May the spring of your life
bring you closer to the ones you love,
and the ones that- love you.


If not for Rain

If not for Rain …

She is not ours to keep.

She wakes us from our sleep.

She breathes a life on Her own terms.

… enlists the help of many worms.

She lives life in Her own way.

She rests in the still of the night.

She turns our dark into day.

She does not judge us in our plight.

She is not ours to keep.

If not for Rain ..

Only you know a Joy so deep.

If not for Rain,

I would weep.


A Bird and the Egg

A few weeks ago, I found myself sitting on the side of a main road in Kihei, HI, stationed with a large brush chipper in need of a truck to haul it back to the base yard. It was parked in the high sun of the day.  I had walked across the street to one of only a few trees that provided shade.

As I sat, I watched the cars pass by left and right. I was grateful for the small tree and the shade it gifted me. In my absence and wait, I did not notice a small bird sitting in the sun, nor did I see the sibling still in its oval home. A walker on the sidewalk behind me called out and said, “Oh look a small bird.” I stood up and looked down. The sun beating down on the small creature and the egg beside her, in the grass.

“It’s too bad. Such is life.”,  the walker said and moved on.

I do not believe such is life, and proceeded to scan for the nest from whence the bird was from. I looked up into the tree, the one that shaded me. Hidden up on a small branch, a small nest, rested. I climbed up and saw another egg, and I knew this was the one.

I climbed back down and picked up the small bird and egg and took them out of the sun. The bird was fine, happy and wondering of what I was going to do, no fear, but just looked at me. The egg less interested, quiet and still.

As I held the two in my hand, the bird stirred and was comforted by my cradle. As I looked at the tree and the branches afforded me, my ability to climb with one hand would be an issue. Of course I tried, but my one step would not reach the nest. I would need two, maybe three. And then from across the street, my co-worker and friend pulled up in a big white truck, the one needed to haul the chipper away.

Smiling as he does, he looked at me to come back across the street. I did not. I waved to him, to come and see. He stepped out of the truck, curious and crossed the street. Still smiling, inquisitive and happy.  I love this about him.

We exchanged a few words, as he saw what I had in my hand. He looked up at the nest and saw my quandary and need of a third arm and hand and without thought or hesitation, skillfully climbed into the tree. I lifted my hand up to him.

“The nest is small and weak.”, he said.

Our willingness to try would not be deterred by the building skills of the bird’s parents. He reached to my hand and gently took the pair into his. He adjusted the small nest and carefully set the bird and the egg into the comfort of their home. The other egg, no doubt surprised to feel its companions back.

He descended from the small tree. We smiled to each other, walked across the street, picked up the equipment and drove away.

So yes, I thought … “Such is life.”, indeed.



The ethereal nature of the word soul and soulmate always intrigued me. I often wondered if my soul was real or just imagined. In the early of my youth, my heart constantly spoke Her mind, suggesting that this person and that person were something more than my eyes could see. In those early years and to this day,  She still speaks to me, encouraging me to reach out and be kind, comfort and help others in ways I am able. My blog channels Her desires as my tagline declares “Practicing love and kindness for all.”

It would be many years, as my youth matured from son, to boy, to man, to lover, to father, and now grandfather, before I would realize the truths of my soul, our souls and if soulmates, do really exist?

As I moved through my life in familiar ways, I discovered certain truths. I connected to others not only with my mind and body, but with the voice of my heart  … and I listened.

She watched over me and waited and when it was time, climbed up on my shoulders, dangled Her feet in the bright of the day, smiled and finally showed me the way and answered my childhood questions.

I sincerely hope that during your life, you find the answers to your questions and perhaps this story will kindle your soul to climb on your shoulders too.

The story titled “Hold Me” is available on Amazon as an eBook and Paperback. If so inspired, give it a read and if you do, may you find meaning in the dreams you pursue.

Feel free to message me anytime, especially if your soul suggests that perhaps, soulmates do really exist, and as I have learned … they really do ❤

Hold Me – eBook ~ Hold Me – Paperback

“There was much more to Charles Darwin’s
Galapagos than he could have ever imagined.”
– In All Our Years


Ankhi original artwork courtesy of Stephanie Clifton
a.k.a. JoyDreamHer of JoyDreaming Life Art Studios ™.



Be the ground your partner walks on ❤


Hold Me – eBook ~ Hold Me – Paperback

“There was much more to Charles Darwin’s Galapagos
than he could have ever imagined.” – In All Our Years



Everything in Nature has a place in our lives. We must embrace Her in moderation in the same way we would not over fish an ocean or clear cut a forest … and receive only what is needed for the small foot print of our life … and always, respectfully love all Nature gifts us ❤

Hold Me – eBook ~ Hold Me – Paperback

“There was much more to Charles Darwin’s Galapagos
than he could have ever imagined.” – In All Our Years




Hold Me

Once you have traveled with ghosts, you come to realize that each of our stories connect us in ways beyond our separateness. This story is but one of many that surround us, consume us, and enlighten us each day and every day. The eBook is available and the “paperback novel, the kind the drugstore sells” as Gordon Lightfoot so creatively speaks of in one of his stories is also available now too.



“There was much more to Charles Darwin’s Galapagos than he could have ever imagined.”  – In All Our Years

Hold Me – eBook
Hold Me – Paperback


This story speaks of a place where all souls aspire from and return to; a beautiful and ancient cavern, hidden below the surface, within the boundaries of the Galapagos Archipelago, in a nautical location known to sailors as Peligroso Ola.

The location is unapproachable because of jagged rock formations and spires just below the surface. All that is known of this mysterious place is that a beautiful melody emanates from somewhere below the surface and sailors have respected and accepted this beauty as long as ships have sailed within this part of the sea.

The story follows the lives of those people who harbor the souls of Makani and Kai, throughout their lives of choice and commitment, passion and sacrifice, desires of the flesh and ultimately accomplishment of their souls’ purposes.

It’s a romantic and telling story while also adding a bit of humor and fun along the way where lessons learned throughout the years are best told through the actions of two penguins Rana and Wayte.


Ankhi original artwork courtesy of Stephanie Clifton
a.k.a. JoyDreamHer of JoyDreaming Life Art Studios ™.

You Are My Compass

My days are long,  sometimes low,
sometimes sweet, and there are times
when I pause and tire on my feet.

I’ve traveled to distant lands.

I’ve seen and felt and loved and longed,
for times not seen, nor spent,
except perhaps, in my dream.

And then there are times, when I am one in need.
I do not ask, I rarely tell, I just proceed.
The best way I know, this way, that way,
finding a path where none’s to be.

And then, as I sit and ponder,
of what and how, I hear you speak.
I feel your gaze as you call to me,
giving of whatever I would need.

A kind word, a simple smile, eyes that bleed,
connect us deep in this life our sleeve.

And with hands of silk so gentle and yet so strong,
you spin to find where I belong.
You reach beyond your means.
You guide me to my dreams.

I’m so very grateful you were there,
when storm and rain whirled me down,
and left me alone and on the ground.

You alone, found me a home,
a place to rest,
some food and jest,
and best of all,
I recall …

You are my compass and are my best.

Though distance separates more often than not,
I hope you know you are … always in my heart.

The All of It

Global warming comes to my mind. How do we find our way back to the path of sustainability? We don’t. Our lives are so short that it does not matter in the lengthy scheme of things. The earth is a giant and lumbers in its pace of life.

Each of us are seeking the feeling that soothes us, empowers us, allows us to fully feel that which is physical, that which stimulates our mind as our heart beats. Our heart, so personified with soul and feeling and love, that in reality we are merely containers of sunlight, water and soil.

Take a moment and watch a seed grow. There is magic within it. Something we cannot see. A map of what it is. A pine tree, an apple tree, a blueberry bush, a blade of grass.

The seed will be warmed by the sun and genetics will allow it to reach for the light, push up through the soil, like a daffodil in the spring. There is hope and yet, this is all the seed knows. It does not realize the flower it will behold, but it will, soon.

Each day brings more light. Each leaf, green with delight and the most amazing mechanics take the kiss of the sun to pull physical building blocks (carbon) from the atmosphere and turn light into energy. How amazing is this?

And then in time, a specific and limited amount of time for that matter, it matures, blooms, encourages the bees to visit and spreads its seeds beyond its solitary place on this planet, we call earth.

The children move on and the small plant will eventually complete its cycle, yielding to the sun and rain and return every so gently back into the soil- adding just a little bit more to the earth, with the sunlight it thoroughly enjoyed.

Each of us will encounter such a life, and will through, one way or another, find our way back into the earth. Will we know- or realize- if and how our children survived? For a time perhaps, while we were alive, but there is no need beyond what has been and we can only hope that they will in some way succeed as we have.

So yes, global warming comes to mind and the only thing that really matters is to find the best way to embrace the sunlight, in the most humble way so that our children will be and find hope and life within their seed.

There is no room or need for anything that is not the light of life, the joy of living, the longing for seed to enjoy the all of it too.

a Weed

I was weeding the other day.
There had been a decision of-
What would stay and what would go.

The decision was sound.
The favoritism logical and strict.
Allowing the life deemed important to be.
Allowing the yank from those who were not so free.

In the fury, of the mindless endeavor,
I caught a glimpse and glance from a small bud
on the less fortunate plant.

I paused.

My seeping moisture cooling me in the breeze,
as I breathed the air deeply …

and then-

I completely stopped and knelt down into the soft
grassy covered earth.

The cloth over my knees,
forever stained with my efforts,
soaked with moisture and soil,
reminding me, that the earth was its home.
The home I many a time carelessly walked across,
day after day.

I breathed again and again and I listened.

As I exhaled my breath, I heard it breath in,
deeply, with joy and passion. I felt the earth smile
and laugh as the aggressive roots of the small plant
stretched and burrowed into its home.

I noticed the length of the plant,
the perfection of it’s tubular body,
the symmetrical placement of a small leaf,
and a small bud, carefully enclosing the
most beautiful bluish-violet flower yet to arrive.
The flower that would be food for the bees.

As I knelt for a while and exchanged
silent conversation with the small plant,
I realized my decision was impaired.

Who was I to make such a call?

While my efforts appeared to be aesthetic
at best, my prejudice of what should be,
sadly mistaken. The small plant excelled
at giving, gladly and without expense,
far less than the extravagance of my needs.

It sipped water and cleansed the air and
held even a drop of moisture to the earth
for others to enjoy, others in need, others
less capable than this plant I deemed,

a weed.

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