Wizard Altar, by Janet Riehl “Thinking as if…magic is real.”
If someone gave you a million dollars, what would you do with it?
If you could be a character from any book, who would you be?
What is the silliest thing to ever happen to you?
Sell your services to the company store, but not your soul. In company towns, there was always a company store selling goods at high prices and always willing to extend credit to get you more deply mired in their debt. In our service-oriented world, the company store takes on a different, more psychological character of…
Poem Against the First Grade by George Venn Marking the Magic Circle: Poetry, Fiction, and Essays Alex, my son, with backberry jam smeared ear to ear and laughing, rides his unbroken joy with words so fast we let him get away on the jamjar without clean cheeks first. He spills frasasass tea with milk and…
The “Write, Pen!” technique is a variation of what the Surrealists dubbed “automatic writing.” Writing that came, they felt, from their subconscious, and therefore routed around the conscious mind with its nagging censor dogs yapping at our writing heels too early. In modern day writing circle we use clustering or mind-mapping and free-writing to come…
Wisdom lives within us, we have only to connect with it. But, how? In the 1980s, when I lived in New Mexico, I studied Psychosynthesis Professional Training with the Intermountain Associates of Psychosynthesis, co-directed by Molly Young Brown and Walter Polt. Walter collaborated with me on training programs for my consulting firm Clear Communication and…
Eden Maxwell joined us earlier this month by sharing his mother Adele Richter’s poem “A Child’s Regret.” Here Eden introduces his poem “Miles | Stones | Epiphany,” another Dharma autobiography. –JGR After reading Susan Ollar’s poem “Autobiography in Fourteen Lines,” I recalled a poem I wrote over a decade ago–a snapshot of a life in…
Enjoy these poems by Evie Bond that have a feel of little folk tales. –JGR ________________ The Old Lady Who Died Crying by Evie Bond The old lady who died crying was a sad sight indeed She lived in a shack, in the very back Of a forest without any trees. A river of fog…