Even an agnostic can pray this prayer, Doing it even if not certain that the call will go through. But here goes-- Deliver me from everything stupid I have said or done Deliver me from every lie I have told, especially the ones I told myself. Deliver me from my Egypt, Where I was in slavery to blindness to those around me. Where the shiny sun of ego made me not see the needs of others. Building pyramids of illusions and pointless self-deception. Deliver me from indifference,

The most profound truth is always wrapped in paradox. There is something eternal in impermanence There is something infinite in finitude There is something flawless in the flaw There is something timeless in the passing of seasons. That “something” is love—eternal, infinite, flawless, and timeless. It persists when two young shoots sprout on the tree, On the same branch, but each on its own stem. When the shoots blossom into fragrant flowers, When the flowers form fruit, They

Does might make right? Does the belief that might makes right make anything right? Has might makes right ever improved the human condition? Even for those who “benefit" from might makes right, what do they really win? Oh, I understand that they win power. But what holes in their being does power fill? Or does it just perhaps create a bigger hole? Sadly, power never fills the holes in the soul like love can. Might makes blight.

Looking at my life,m I'll have the usual. The usual good health, loved ones, work and rest, and laughter, The usual tears and armchair reveries, The usual memories that make me smile, And even those that do not. There have been times when life did not serve me the usual, But those times lasted only long enough to awaken me to treasure them. Gratitude is stopping and saying, "I think I'll have the usual."

If you look at a gravestone, you will see a hyphen before the date one enters the world and when one leaves it. (Is it a hyphen or a dash? I, for one, would not want to dash through life). And that little straight line is a total lie. For the ark between birth and death is a squiggly line that loops, goes backward, Up and Down Stalls And so on, but it is anything but a straight line! If it is a straight line, then you haven't done much' And face your Maker with empty hands. F

In the Turkish language, spring is “ilk bahar,” which is “first spring And autumn is “son bahar” or  “last spring.” May aging be my second spring, When new things calmly bloom and flourish Even as the days grow shorter. But growing shorter means that the light is limited, And work must be accomplished within less time, The days are shorter The light gentler and more finite But oh, so more valuable.

The crispness of Fall Like the crunching of leaves under foot; Wood smoke lingering on the air; And the bite into a tart, crisp apple With a cool breeze on your cheek While a gentler sun looks down Is like the happy autumn of our lives.. Growing older, the sun seems gentler The breeze is a caress, not a chill And life has a wonderful new tart flavor And the time to savor it. The light is softer now Days are shorter But what beautiful days they are!

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Adults are just children "damaged in shipping." So, I suggest an experiment. Try and envision someone you intensely dislike as a small...

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A new book by J.F. Bierlein and Houda Zahid