How do I heal?
I just wanted to share my story i am 54 years old and i have broken my two legs when i got hit by a bus. I went down to the store in my wheel chair and got hit by a drunken driver and ended up broken neck. While i was in the hosipital recouperating i got assaulted by the nurse. Then i ask to make a phone call only to find out that my dog had died. I had taken a turn for the worst then i read your site. I was beginnuing to do better the sun was shinning then all of a sudden the nurse said i could go home, i didnt make it out of the drive way before the ambulance hit me.
mr. dressup <inono@hotmail.com>
- Thursday, February 16, 2006 at 08:44:09 (PST)
How do I let go?
I have seen the light and it burned my eyes
some one
- Thursday, February 16, 2006 at 08:35:33 (PST)
How do I heal?
We've been on land so long... And many of us have ventured inland... The dock is in disrepair... Left standing and waiting... For someone to come back... Or come along for the first time... And turn on the lights... To the Aloe Bar... Live bait and tuxedo rentals... First come first serve... Pura Vida,
Rob
- Friday, February 10, 2006 at 16:14:04 (PST)
How do I heal?
HOW CAN I CONTACT GUEST SPEAKER JOHN PROVOST?
JAMES BARNETT <MARKTHETHINKER@AOL.COM>
- Friday, July 15, 2005 at 06:30:31 (PDT)
How do I heal?
I just want to say to all on liferaft to never give up and never be afraid of anything, and to love one another. Im 28, in the past year, I had two cancer surgeries for a rare cancer called "gist" it was in my small intestine and spread. They had to cut some of some organs out and reattatch my intestines a different way... I still have problems... like sometimes i feel like my stomach is going to explode. Sometimes I feel sick or have bowel trouble. Im on a pill form of chemo, (theres still some in my liver)but that was happening before i started that. so im not sure what it is.. doc says its to be expected, my insides are twisted around differently. Ive had alot of other unusual and really bad things happen to me... not sure why...I have a son who is 6, but its because of a rape from my first boyfriend at 21. He was born when I was 22. Ive been homeless... people would look at me funny with a crying newborn...on the street. I looked younger than what i was too. My mother started to be abusive to me... and of course her new boyfriend. for two yrs previous to this rape, I was abused physically, mentally and spiritually. I also had panic attacks and some sort of anxiety disorder. Later in life, I found out I had had "agoraphobia" which was why I couldnt call anyone on the phone, drive, or usually even go outside!! Sometimes I wish i stayed mormon, I would have been safe there. I wouldve found a return missionary and got married in the mormon temple. But I loved God too much. He and being close to Him and His righteousness is all I have ever desired even as a mormon, but the mormons dont seem to worship the way I need to to feel close and be close to Jesus. But all christians have done... ALL they have done is judge me and be harsh and abusive. Mormons never did... but i was born into that church, so maybe thats why.... Oh God, help me.... I am a pure person. Will noone ever see me that way again???!!! But I cant go back to the mormons... And why all of this sickness? I believed for my healing and refused to take my chemo at one time.... but the cancer grew. Now i am taking it and it has shrunk. and even though i still struggle and things have seemed so very unfair, I have decided to still trust God. I am not really alone. Because I have my true father, God... and my dad is in my life again as of last year. And he cared for my son when i was in the hospital. I now thank God more than ever for my son, because I cannot have anymore children... It is because of two reasons... the main reason is because the chemotherapy that i have to take the rest of my life would not allow me to support a pregnancy. I have recently tried a christian dating service... but the first man I dated through the service was a bible college graduate, yet he was a convicted felon, as I found out later when I had to call the police on him. he was stalking me. Ive since taken a vow.... to continue living quietly and with as much quality of life as possible. To care for and love my son and my father... and of course my true father, God. NOmore christian dating services, and of course no others!!! And, nomore public church. Ive tried a good 14 or 15 churches in the 14 years since Ive been christian. (Ive suffered enough there with their accusations and stares! 14 years of trying!!!). Yes, I have a child...and no husband. But they dont understand. And they dont know me. Everyone always thinks they do, but it soon becomes apparent that they do not. And nomatter what I say or do.... they will not believe me or think otherwise. Sometimes I ask... "why God? Why??? I only want to love people. I would let them CRUCIFY me!! but what they do is worse!! It makes me sick to go to church now or even think about it. But when I think about God.... I want to go outside and dance for joy and sing.... I love Him so.... I love Jesus so..... Thats why I now am having church on my own... I tried for years to avoid it being this way.... but I cannot avoid it anylonger. Thank You, Lord for helping me!!! Anyway Im much happier and content now. I AM lonley, but not so much more than I was previously. actually, its more lonesome to be surrounded by people who judge or reject you, or abuse you... so I am thankful. Ever so thankful!!! And my son... I almost gave him up... but I am so glad I didnt. A bunch of church people told me to, but something inside told me not to... nomatter how hard it was. I did what was hard and sacrificed and persevered for him... and even though I sometimes wished I did give him up... in those early days... I am soooooo glad I didnt!! And I am starting a new career soon... i am going to school to be an LMP. (Licenced Massage Practitioner). Everyone, Listen!! If I can do it, so can you!!!! Life is too short to not live everyday to its fullest. Life is too short, to give up on God or to give up on love. Soooo many decisions we make are made because of selfishness and fear. Dont let any of your decisions be made with ANY of that!!! It is Poison!!! Im happy to say, that I do not fear now... I can call people on the phone, including my oncologist... I drive all the time.... and Im not even afraid of cancer. It is God that has set me free. All I need now is some good friends. I have some nice aquaintances at school... but noone who loves the Lord as I do. Perhaps the only way for me to find a close friend.... one who will truly love me....one who would think good thoughts of me, like I would of them... is to go to heaven. But as I told God before, I just cannot go now! I want to do so much good. And, I have a son to raise! These things are terribly important!!! So I will go merrilly on my way.... but into His hands I commit my life. I vowed to Him that I would be His for eternity. And He has the right to do whatever he wants with me whenever he wants. But I am not concerned... because I know He is just and faithful and perfect. And I know He loves me more than I can ever totally know. (unless maybe when I go to heaven) And I love Him too. So my trust can truly rest completely and confidently in His hands. I love and forgive all that have wronged me... I pray fervently for them. I love them very, very much!!!! But I love God more, and if I am closer to Him alone, then I shall be alone. I have woods by my home. So now, Im going out to the flower field to pray with my son. God is so very good! He makes all your days good, nomatter if your just washing the dishes or taking out the trash... or if your walking down the street, wondering where to go.... or your driving or sleeping or reading, or playing with your child.... He is there. And if you put your trust in Him.... He does make all your days good and full of thankfulness and joy. And He fills you with His love.
Laura <sister_in_christ77@yahoo.com>
- Saturday, May 07, 2005 at 18:13:52 (PDT)
How do I heal?
How do i LEARN MORE ABOUT THIS WEB SITE
mary frances winstead <rwinstead@cox.net>
- Tuesday, April 26, 2005 at 11:18:07 (PDT)
How do I heal?
I am from Caboolture in Australia and I have just finished reading "signs and wonders" from the library. It has changed my life,reading this book I related to it so much. To bring people to the Lord is such a wonderful thing. I gave my heart to the LORD many years ago and its the best thing ever, it makes you a whole person and gives your life meaning. God bless you all. love Denise
Denise <dennyau1959@Yahoo.com.au>
- Monday, April 11, 2005 at 16:11:41 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Sonnet 1: Rain Heals Me The air engulfs my only sanctity, And dust is makeup for my hopeless rue. The Santa Ana rubs out hope s debris And steals the Poor Man Zeal s two dollars few. I saw no bright leaves as the hot wind blew; Gray waste and rubble clattered on the ground. And sucked near sun are the last few beads of dew; My beads of dew have been gone for many months now. Then came from heaven above a pleasing sound; The droplets hit the concrete and slid down my cheek. No longer hearts poor wings so tightly bound; They flew so freely, new frontier to seek. Dear Rain, the goad of hope, elation, souls, Eclipse the sun, then wash off dust, and fill chest holes.
J.R. Hughes
- Thursday, January 13, 2005 at 23:42:09 (PST)

Hi Charity, Do you mean the poem, "Burning", that you submitted as a guest explorer for the question "Should I stay or walk away"? I can have the poem removed if you would like. Please confirm that this is what you want removed. If want you want removed is a posting On the Dock that was entered before 1997, it is no longer on the site. On the Dock postings since 1997 cannot be removed individually. If it is the poem you want removed, can you tell me why? Pura Vida, Rob
Rob Hughes
- Tuesday, December 14, 2004 at 11:03:54 (PST)
Says Who?
Hi, I posted something on life raft many years ago. I would like it taken off. How do i go about having this done?
Charity Hendrickson
- Tuesday, December 14, 2004 at 10:04:18 (PST)
Says Who?
adult free
adult-free
- Wednesday, October 27, 2004 at 00:42:20 (PDT)
How do I heal?
How do I heal? I m not sure I understood the question until recently. I just kept struggling to come up with some clever answer that would spark controversy, conversation or debate. Or maybe I did understand it but didn t want to. Because the answer I conjured up then is the same and only answer I can still come up with 2 years later. How do I heal? I don t. I try. I really do try. But I don t think I really ever do. I just put another band-aid over the scab and hope that nobody notices that I m covered with them. How to I heal? My dad died unnecessarily 2 years ago and while we ve all gone on with our lives, I m still mad at him for dying (and leaving us to deal with our mother, but that s a story for another day). And, I still catch myself reaching for the phone to tell him about the latest great book I ve read, or ask for one of his infamous cookie recipes. I still sometimes wait for him to call to talk about some family he helped build a house for, or some wacky thing my grandmother just did. And I still walk into the living room and expect to see him standing in the middle of the floor either dancing to Pure Prairie League or conducting the 1812 orchestra with an imaginary baton. How do I heal? The onle thing I'm grateful for is that his death left me with was no regrets. I worked hard to have a great relationship with him, so when he died, all I had to do was be mad and grieve. I didn t have to feel sorry for myself or worry about old baggage for not spending enough time with him, or not laughing enough, or not calling him enough. How do I heal? I guess I thought after 2 years it would feel more like he was gone. That I d get used to it. But it still doesn t seem real and I still haven t gotten used to it. Hell, I sometimes still miss my grandparents and 3 of them have been gone for 20 years or more. Maybe that s healing. Maybe I m wrong about the scabs. Maybe the healing is in the feeling that all the people we loved in our lives are still there smiling at us when we re noble and chiding us when we re not. And the scabs are just there to remind me and everyone else that they really were here and for better or for worse, they made a difference. Welcome back Liferaft. You ve been missed.
Cheryl <cheryl.stoyle@verizon.net>
- Thursday, October 14, 2004 at 06:58:11 (PDT)
How do I heal?
To all of you across the land and to all the ships at sea, the dock is once again open and we offer you safe harbor and all of the amenities of the Aloe Bar. We hope we'll speak your peace while you visit and that you'll share on our exploration. Special thanks to Steve Ganz for reopening the dock. He has weathered the storms to bring us safe harbor. Pura Vida
Rob Hughes
- Tuesday, October 12, 2004 at 11:10:22 (PDT)
Where is home?
Testing, testing, testing. All the way home.
Steve Ganz
- Monday, October 11, 2004 at 23:41:13 (PDT)
How do I heal?
And we're baaaaaaaaaaaack!!!
Steve Ganz
- Monday, October 11, 2004 at 23:34:45 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Well, it's 2:35 am, and again, I can't fall asleep. I keep thinking weather I should just give up, maybe I'm trying to hard. My dream is to be a model, but I don't know if I have what it takes (physically and emotionally). And even if I do make it how long will it last, and will everyone just judge me based on my appearance....
Well, those are just some of my thoughts tonight. Just wanted to share that with you and maybe get some insight.

www.groups.yahoo.com/group/kaylee_tanner

If you ever get a chance to see my portfolio, please, let me know what you think. Honestly.
kaylee
- Sunday, November 17, 2002 at 23:41:21 (PST)
How do I heal?
Charlie,

I passed on your message to someone who may be able to help you. I'm glad you like Life Raft.

I jotted something down the other day and I'd like to share it with you and other visitors to the Dock.

OBSERVATIONS

The first time we look at things,
they tend to be colored by an expectation
of what we think they should be.

The second time we look at things,
we are often disappointed
by how they are not exactly
what we had expected.

The third time we look at things,
we can usually see them as they really are.

And if we continue looking....

The fourth time we see things,
they are colored by an appreciation
of what they really are.

It pays to look at things again,
and again,
and again,
until we develop the skill and intuition
to immediately see things
with an appreciation of the truth.

Pura Vida
Rob
- Wednesday, October 30, 2002 at 13:12:15 (PST)
How do I heal?
.......love the site, and am an old friend of that dodgy
character known as Pagan Neil. Would appreciate it if you
could pass my e-mail address to him. Thanks--
Charley Ryan <cpryan@aol.com>
- Wednesday, October 30, 2002 at 07:22:04 (PST)
How do I heal?
Kay,

Your story of the Angel sighting is inspiring and beautiful. The story strikes me most, however, through its astounding irony. As you observed the injured soul in need of protection and also the Angels providing their cordon of watch, you were actually a part of that protective perimeter. Watching, caring, ready to assist and with the vision to know when a good soul is in need. This may be a good time to ponder your role in the universe.

Rob
- Sunday, October 06, 2002 at 19:09:25 (PDT)
How do I heal?
One Year Later:


A Quick Guide on Angel-Spotting:


Actually, Angel discernment is not difficult…they're professional contraries.
In the midst of darkness and disaster, they're the ones seen running towards,
not away.


They also tend to stay behind when others have fled.
This is due to a universal, not yet fully known, internal guidance system.


I've yet to see one sprout wings and fly, so don't look for wings
- or halos or glowing white robes, for that matter.


They'll also flat-out deny what they are with a "Yeah, sure." or "How sweeeet! And you're a little angel too!"


Saw a whole crop of them one summer's day at Minneapolis' Downtown Farmer's Market. A developmentally disabled man was struck by a bicyclist while attempting to jaywalk across Nicollet Mall. Both he and his walker went down, and his head struck pavement. All he could do was set there, curled up, head-down in the middle of the road - bleeding into a rolled-up towel the cyclist had placed under his brow, and yelling "OW!!". Two cops were on the scene; they summoned an ambulance and started tending the man's cracked forehead. The cyclist searched his backpack for another towel.

In the minute the ambulance took to arrive, the lunchtime crowd flowed through the busy marketplace. I stood aside observing no less then 7 individuals, all standing stock-still at various points around the downed man like rays around the sun.

All faced toward, ready to help if needed; watching-over for the time being. They stood out, Rob; they stood silent. One, large black lady. One middle-aged man with a briefcase. One young woman in a tank top.


Nothing in common except what they faced. Like rocks in a fast-flowing stream, they stood until the ambulance took off with the wounded man…then faded gently into the crowd, never to be seen in such combination again.


Kay Kirscht <kaybird@toast.net>
- Wednesday, September 11, 2002 at 15:47:10 (PDT)
Says Who?
Three weeks ago…

“Let’s turn in here…” I said. The sign read “Fan Tan Alley”, it is a neat little alternative junkie’s dream. It’s got world music shops, eastern religion doo-dad places and the back entrance to the biggest shop in China Town. There’s a tall tour guide just inside the gates telling the tourists that the gates weren’t to keep people in, it was so at night the Chinese could lock others out. In case some drunken farmer wanted to take out some frustration by breaking a Chinese head.

“Of course, that’s all in the past!” he jokes. We continued on not thinking much about it.

In the daytime the downtown core of Victoria is a happy place where tourists from all around the world come to ooo and aah at the sights and go to the neat little shops and buy real “Canadian Indian Sweaters”. In the evening the musicians head down to the inner harbor, or go home, or go up to the spot where they beg for a few more pennies before they find a nice bush to go sleep under.
In the evening and into the night is when you can meet the homeless, the destitute and the hungry. For the most part they sit and talk and smile even laugh. (Actually, quite a lot of laughing.) Most are young and have chosen a carefree way of life, so they think. There are those though who are really just sick, drunk/stoned, hurt or worn-out. There are those who are older and have no choice but where life has brought them. Most of us don’t give them the time of day, “a few cents”, or even a smile.
Up until a couple years ago I wouldn’t have either. I was, you see, a migrant worker. I lived on the side of the road; I picked tomatoes and apples for money to buy food, wine and a much-needed tent. When I got back to Victoria, it was with a new outlook on life and I started spending time downtown. I started sitting around on the street corner and having a smoke. The people I met were nice and very hospitable. I felt like I had friends all over the place because I was nice to them, and they were nice to me. That easy.

Last night…

“They’re at it again”

Those words changed my whole outlook on the city. For, as I heard that I looked up to see some guy stomp on the head of someone I new and as I got up, he did it again. The three count was over before I could cross the street to help him, and when I got there the attackers had fled. I looked down to see someone I knew lying on his side with blood coming from the bottom side of his head and twitching slightly. Thank God he was breathing. From then on time stopped having any hold on reality. An hour later after I had tracked down some on the ones involved and brought the police and after the sidewalk was cleaned. The ambulance made a very slow exit from the scene. Later while writing my statement I heard some of the details of his condition, not good.

It was about that time that I realized why this happened. I mean, I knew, I got the story straight from the girl’s mouth that he had reached out and grabbed. He was drunk, he grabbed at her and for that he may die. How can anyone have so little respect for their fellow man that they would try to kill a man for making a drunken mistake. How can any young woman (she couldn’t be more than 19) be so conceited as to yell at a dying man “That’s what you get for grabbing her!”. Right in front of her friends (about 20 of them) I led the Police to her. I don’t care what they think of me. I’m scared of what they think of themselves.

Tim <t_viers@hotmail.com>
- Wednesday, August 07, 2002 at 02:57:43 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Happy Birthday, Rob. I remember the day you were born.
Ray
- Wednesday, July 31, 2002 at 21:21:18 (PDT)
How do I heal?
I dont really have a great deal to say. Im not an old man by all means, but I would definetely call myself a searcher. What I am searching for I do not yet know; what I will find throughout life is another more complex, yet exciting quest I am looking forward to experiance. I guess Im like anybody else -searching for a happiness Im unlikly to reach, a true love Ill most likely never find, and a sense of contentment we are programmed to believe we will actually realise someday. No matter how unrealstic such dreams are however, I highly doubt Ill ever give up my search. As ulitimately, what good is the benefit of the human spirit without this desire to find such a sense of completeness.

For who knows, total satisfaction and an until sense of self actualisation and contentment may just be around the next corner we take in life?? This though is enough to keep me plodding through the 'normalness' of common life that so many of us are a part of yet are unhappy with.

Life is what you make it. Its a gift so enjoy!
Ged <gezkelly@hotmail.com>
- Wednesday, July 31, 2002 at 07:22:13 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Heres a coded message what does it say Dont know why cause i have the key.7854189.238.2829418.238.315.7192.29869.3723.5829.556.8987.583.85. God has the Key trust him You cannot do things alone None can breake this code in numbers God is the answer to all things remember this I have the key to the coded message
Roscoe
- Sunday, July 21, 2002 at 12:09:42 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Allen funts candid camera showed people as they really were in life Like when a coke machine did not give someone a coke They beat on the machine and kicked it Yes it was true pictures of people in action People are a funny bunch its ok as long as its someone else getting egg on there face I have seen hundreds of people spend hundreds of dollars trying to win the lottery yet when a beggar ask them for a dollar they refuse him so much for human kindness Jesus healed 10 lepers only one came back and thanked him Jesus asked where are the rest They forgot who healed them One of the biggest problems in America is Stingiest Millioniares want more millions In the end it does them no good they die and leave it all either to the State or there company They could have paid there employees a higher wage But they refused The earth is walked on yet it all ways produces food How humble the Earth is yet how frutifull it is There would be no Red wood trees if laws had not been passed to stop the Lumber companies from cutting them down They only wanted MONEY they cared nothing for nature Man has not changed The Whales have been hunted to almost Extenison Man is greedy Thats why we have WAR our nation is attacked because of Greed the poor countries want what America has and they are willing to kill all who stand in there way I see no hope for man
Roscoe
- Tuesday, July 09, 2002 at 13:57:53 (PDT)
How do I heal?
...For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

From, The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

On Friendship

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

To Rob, con muy gracias...
Aloha Paul
- Thursday, May 23, 2002 at 14:08:26 (PDT)
How do I heal?
These are powerful energies, bad and good. The extremes of one draw the extremes of the other. In relationship they will naturally evolve to balance. Peace and temperence can exist in either. You would think that all people would seek peaceful balance in these conditions but we see giant explosions to counter the energy of the extremes. It can take dramatic acts of love, generosity, forgiveness and even contrition to counter extremely bad energies.
Rob
- Tuesday, April 02, 2002 at 15:03:40 (PST)
How do I heal?
Why is it that simething bad has to happen to force the good
Emily
- Monday, April 01, 2002 at 16:47:48 (PST)
How do I heal?
life is the most amazing thing that exists, try to make the best with it!
sandra
- Tuesday, January 29, 2002 at 13:11:10 (PST)
How do I heal?
I used to ask for things. You know, like if you had three wishes that you knew, hoped, prayed would come true. I got a lot, I lost a lot and I waisted a lot of time getting wishes that I didn't really want. It's like the fables where somebody is granted three wishes and after getting the first wish, they spend the next two trying to correct the first.

Now I ask for what to ask for. Guidance, please. I know that i can get what I want. We can all get what we want. But for me, I humbly seek the guidance to know the best way to go. Amen

As I have asked for what to ask for, some interesting things have happened. I found the importance of self healing. I found the strength of the circle of family and then the circle of friends and then of community and then of worlds. Concentric circles moving out in priority of healing, moving out with journeys intersecting the circles ...journeys and destinations... somehow making more sense than before.

I'm new at this and It's easy for me to be impatient but things seem to be going well in focusing on these circles and moving outward. I'll let you know how it goes. Let me know your thoughts.
Rob
- Monday, January 07, 2002 at 18:14:19 (PST)
Says Who?
PLease tell Ms. Relf-Canus that she is a decent writer.
michelle langberg <ojodemariposa@hotmail.com>
- Saturday, November 24, 2001 at 23:27:50 (PST)
How do I heal?
A good way to make pain go away is to replace it with full purpose. Pain, whether mild or excrutiating, doesn't do well when confronted with true resolve. Indeed, pain recedes in its shallowness compared to the depth and strength of the well-directed vision or action.

I know pain very well having spent a large portion of my life with it. I know how to live with it, tolerate it, and sometimes even make it go away when it becomes unbearable. Sometimes.

How well do you know pain?

It can grab you and hold you when you are alone or idle. It loves the empty moment and can rush in to fill the lonliness or void. In this way, pain can fool you into letting it hang around with you as your bitter companion.

Is a bitter companion better than no companion at all?

Guilt, regret, blame, recrimination, self-pity, longing, loss, worry. Just some of the servants of pain that keep it fed well so that it can be there for us in our lonely, idle or self-indulgent moments.

The pain will always go away when confronted with full and true purpose.

It takes practice. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. One clear and reachable objective and then another. One goal for your own good and maybe even the good of others.

Gepetto sang to Pinnochio,

"One step at a time you see, that's the way we learn.
Walking can be so much fun you see
And then we can learn to run."

Pura Vida


Rob
- Thursday, September 27, 2001 at 21:12:43 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Fear
I cry without tears, my sobbing is anger.
The more I regret, the more I encounter
that life without sorrow, is worth more tomorrows
My fear is my pain will not go away.
Adel
- Monday, September 24, 2001 at 15:08:33 (PDT)
How do I heal?
How can hatred become so strong as to drive these acts against humanity?

Answering this question is a bit more difficult...

The roots and solution to this problem, this terror, this hatred, go back a long way and exist in each of us.

It basically starts with "stereotyping"; a mistaken belief that any people, group, society, nation, race, religion, etc. have peculiar things in common; a sort of ginger-bread-man mentality; "they" are all alike!
We know though, each snow flake is different and, not all roses are red.
Therefore, stereotyping is based on false premises; thus a falsehood and a lie.

Yet, once a stereotype is cast/set, it is easy, then, to turn this falsehood or lie, into a scapegoat,
"the cause of all our problems", the focus and target of all our frustrations and angers,
the "boogie-man".

This phenomena, of stereotyping and scapegoating, (duped by two lies), goes by the name of "prejudice."

As prejudice grows, so does all the falsehoods that feed it, providing enough fuel for hatred.

This hatred can grow so strong on the fuel of prejudice, that all reason is lost.

What we have then, is "blind hate and rage" a form of insanity, leaving room for such hellish acts as we have seen not only this week, but throughout history: murders, genocide, tortures, wars, and the destruction of things we consider most sacred.

To recap:

Stereotyping breeds >>>

Scapegoating becomes >>>

Prejudice fuels >>>

Hatred turns to >>>

Insanity causes >>>

Mass destruction.

This relatively unknown phenomena explains the mass insanity of entire countries...
as well as the mass insanity of religious wars, political, race, and ethnic wars...

When you buy the lie, many will die...


That is also why we have moral tale's, like "Romeo and Juliet"
which was taken from Greek moral tales
which were passed on by bards of old...

On the second question:

Besides a dolphin's smile, any truth...
pt
- Friday, September 14, 2001 at 18:37:42 (PDT)
How do I heal?
I am quite certain that Truth, Light, Love, Beauty, Good, and God are reflections of each other...
They abound in the realm of integrity...

As "one" is an integer, an absolute, and integrate is "to make whole",
integrity, therefore is the absolute inclusion of all good.

Hatred is the absence of good and therefore the absence of integrity, and dwells in the realm of the void...
the no-thing-ness, zero, un-whole-e.

In the absence of good, all destructive forces are possible-

war, genocide, envy, greed, hubris, hell, etc.

God shows us that life is good... not only in every detail, but in every definitive/absolute!

Those who worship death go against God's most sacred law and love... life!

We are all in debt to you for making this "life-raft" available.
You are a good man Sir Robert, an itinerant knight, on a whole-y quest...
Thank you and Shaloha... Pura Vida!

pt

pt <pt.mlc@att.net>
- Thursday, September 13, 2001 at 10:57:12 (PDT)
How do I heal?
As the shock waves of yesterday's horrid events spread through the world,
and as I try to sort out, understand and cope with a drasticly different reality, two questions are on my mind:

How can hatred become so strong as to drive these acts against humanity?

And what does the opposite of that hatred look like?

Kay, I think I am safe, but I do have anxiety and even some fear about the unknown territory that we face. Yesterday I saw down-turned faces in quiet anguish and a world turned upside down with shock while only two days ago I was thinking of the humor in the differences between the cultures here in my new home of Southern California and the lifestyles of my previous home in New Jersey. Now, I see no good humor, anywhere, and I worry about my friends and relatives in the New York and D.C. areas.


Rob <robroyhughes@home.com>
- Wednesday, September 12, 2001 at 10:06:46 (PDT)
How do I heal?
It's Tuesday afternoon,
and God is in New York.

Thinking of you and hope you are safe.
Kay Kirscht <kaybird@toast.net>
- Tuesday, September 11, 2001 at 10:44:37 (PDT)
Why do I cry in the middle of the day?
Shalom!

I'm from Israel & I'm doing a research paper about how Deaf children,
teens and adults use the Internet. (especially chatrooms)
I would also l-o-v-e to chat with someone Deaf.

Do you know anyone who would be interested?

P-L-E-A-S-E respond!

Miri.

mbannett@hotmail.com
Miri <mbannett@hotmail.com>
Israel - Wednesday, July 04, 2001 at 03:49:38 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Hey, Rob.
I don't know your email, so I'll go this way. I'm in Romania! Hope all is well with you and the family. Love, Ray.
Ray Hughes <bearcanyon10@hotmail.com>
- Saturday, May 19, 2001 at 23:15:14 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its
fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there,
though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right
word, by its right name, it will come.
Franz Kafka
pt
- Saturday, April 28, 2001 at 11:59:01 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Is it not a truly wondrous journey that we travel together. Learning from each other how to love and how to laugh and how to heal. As we see the faces of each other, brothers and sisters basking in the light of our mind's eye, we are reminded of the glorious communion that we share and we are guided on our journey to the knowing beyond understanding. The spirit is on the wind and it caresses our cheeks. We meet seemingly by chance and yet we nurture through this coincidence of providence. The journey is a great adventure that flows as energy and we are quantum particles of a common mass. And the farther we travel, the more we see and the more we understand… and the closer we come to the beginning… the closer we come to home and to our mothers and to our fathers. We cannot fail in this journey of faith, for in the end we see together that we all arrive as one at the beginning…
And we are all forgiven.

Rob
- Wednesday, April 11, 2001 at 19:24:07 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Kay,
I'm not aware of any relation to "Ukelele" Hughes. My grandfather, Walter Hughes,
sold his bicycle shop in St. Louis and moved to Southern California where he planted
and cultivated a successful citrus ranch... and adopted a handsome boy named LeRoy
who had been put in an orphanage by his father, Mr. Brun, after Mrs. Brun died during child
birth with her 11th baby. My father remembered that Walter looked at him and said, " I want
that one. He's a good one. If I can't have him, then I don't want any."
There may be some odd connection here however as I have always had a special
affection for "Ukelele Ike" who I believe became most famous for his beautiful
rendition of "When You Wish Upon a Star" as the voice of Jimini Crickett in
Disney's "Pinnochio"

Also, it's a great treat to see the words of Steve Ganz on the dock... one
of the truly unselfish pioneer creators of Life Raft. I miss you too, Steve,
and look forward to both catching up and moving ahead.

I feel very good about Life Raft and the contributions and sharing that carry
on.

Love and peace to all,
Rob

Rob Hughes
- Monday, February 19, 2001 at 19:38:59 (PST)
How do I heal?
Rob!

Ahoy, matey. Long time no nothing. I miss you. Lots to catch up on. Contact me. My number, email and location all remain the same. You've got the map.

Peace,
Steve
Steve Ganz <stephan@ganz.com>
- Sunday, February 18, 2001 at 17:21:29 (PST)
Says Who?
Anyone know how to contact Pagan Neil via email? Thanks! Miracles to you all...k-
Kara L.C. Jones <editor@kotapress.com>
- Friday, February 16, 2001 at 12:26:11 (PST)
Where do I begin?

Hmmmm. Took this from the "RootsWeb" weekly genealogical mailing -- any connection?

"A friend who owned an antique store recently gave me a scrapbook
of E. B. "Ukelele" HUGHES. The scrapbook contains a number of
newspaper clippings dated in the early 1920s from Salt Lake
City, Utah, where he apparently resided for several years, and
from cities all over the U.S.A. where he appeared in vaudeville/
burlesque shows. It contains very little if any family
information, but I would be glad to send it to family members."
Merleen S. Gholdston gholdston@worldnet.att.net
Kay
- Thursday, February 15, 2001 at 11:25:59 (PST)
How do I heal?
LESSONS FROM GEESE


FACT 1: As each goose flaps its wings it creates an “uplift” for the birds that follow. By flying in a V formation, the whole flock adds 71% greater flying range than if each bird was flying alone.


LESSON: People who share a common direction and sense of community can get where they are going quicker and easier because they are traveling on the thrusts of one another.


FACT 2: When a goose falls out of formation it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of flying alone. It quickly moves back into formation to take advantage of the lifting power of the bird immediately in front of it.


LESSON: If we have as much sense as a goose, we stay in formation with those headed where we want to go. We are willing to accept their help and give our help to others.


FACT 3: When the lead goose tires, it rotates back into the formation and another goose flies to the point position.


LESSON: It pays to take turns doing the hard tasks and sharing leadership. As with geese, people are interdependent on each other’s skills, capabilities and unique arrangements of gifts, talents or resources.


FACT 4: The geese flying in formation honk to encourage those up front to keep up their speed.


LESSON: We need to make sure our honking is encouraging. In groups where there is encouragement, the production is much greater.


FACT 5: When a goose gets sick, wounded or shot down, two geese drop out of formation and follow it down to help and protect it. They stay with it until it dies or is able to fly again. Then they launch out with another formation or catch up with the flock.


LESSON: If we have as much sense as geese, we will stand by each other in difficult times as well as when we are strong.
pt
- Friday, January 26, 2001 at 12:07:37 (PST)
How do I heal?

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer (a Native American Elder)


It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting
your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your
dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you
have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without
moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can
dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes without cautioning "be careful", "be realistic", or
"remember the limitations of being human".

It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if
you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty every day, even when it is not
pretty, and if you can source your life from the Creator's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still
stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes"!

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you
have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the
children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and
not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls
away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like
the company you keep in the empty moments.

pt
- Friday, January 12, 2001 at 16:03:26 (PST)
Says Who?
THE DASH

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning.... to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between the years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth...
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars...the house...the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard....
are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at "dash midrange.")

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what is true and real,
and always try to understand
the way people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
and more often wear a smile...
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy's being read
with your life's actions to rehash...
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spend your dash?

******************************************
To the world you may be one person,
But to one person you may be the world!
*******************************************



pt
- Wednesday, January 03, 2001 at 12:42:40 (PST)
How do I heal?
I spent about fifteen years of my life trying to lose my memory...
until eventually I couldn't remember why.
Fortunately that phase passed and I learned to cherish memories as the
perpetuation of the energies, spirits and actions of loved ones and
loved times... people and times that enriched my life.
Then when my father went through the mental deterioration of alzheimers
I realized even more the importance of memories and in fact went through a
crisis of faith when I questioned whether or not any experience had value
if memory was lost. Without memory, is there a great void? I'm not sure.
And so as you talk to others of the memories of your lost friend, I think
that you not only help to heal yourself, but you also carry on the energy,
spirit and enrichment of your good friend as you place these in the memories
of others. It's somewhat like the Shaman passing on the sacred stories so
that the knowledge is not lost.
I would suggest that you also write down the most important memories of your friend.
Write the memories on paper or in e-mails or on a chat room or even here
on the dock of Life Raft. The Internet is a powerful mode of preserving
and indeed spreading good memories...
and healing

Rob Hughes <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Thursday, December 28, 2000 at 07:57:37 (PST)
How do I heal?
Healing?
Just lost a good friend to cancer. My plans for healing are to talk to as many people as I can about him. Celebrate his life and not mourn his passing. As Bill McNeal said on NewsRadio,"Good memories."(Any NewsRadio fans out there?)

Gary Fransted <daelmar@webtv.net>
- Thursday, December 28, 2000 at 05:53:10 (PST)
Says Who?
Yes, Laughter can definitely aid in healing...
It is known, that the combination of laughter
and Vitamin C, can even cure cancer!

The funniest line I can remember, that literally
made me fall out of my chair, while viewing the
movie, "Shampoo", in my hotel room in Seattle,
was delivered by Julie Christie in response to a
question posed to her, "What most would you
want at this moment?" or close to that.
Her answer was directed at Warren Beatty,
followed by action under the table at Chasens
in Beverly Hills.

And what was your funniest moment?

Holiday Greetings, Y'all. Ho, Ho, Ho!

pt

pt <pt.mlc@att.net>
- Wednesday, December 27, 2000 at 08:26:36 (PST)
How do I heal?
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach
with the Three Stooges.
Scenes from their movies flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
There should have been four sets of footprints at this point,
Why were there were only three?

“Larry’s chasing a dame,” Moe muttered.
And, verily, Larry WAS chasing a dame;
Hence, only three sets of footprints. I understood –
Flashy dames don’t show up on the beach that often;
Larry wanted to try his luck.

I asked Moe and Curly how it was going.
They said it was a living; shooting 8 short films a year.
“Do you know what you’ll portray from one day to the next?” I asked.
“Nah,” said Moe; “It’s always a surprise. We’re Musketeers one day; prisoners the next.
What I wouldn’t give for a meaty role – like what Brando pulled down for ‘On the Waterfront.’”
Since Moe was already in a tee-shirt, he crowed out his best Marlon Brando imitation; “I coulda, weeeeellllll, I could-a been a Contendah!”

Meanwhile, Curly poked me in the shoulder with pop-eyed intensity;
“We hadda surprise today! WE WON!!” he interjected.
The sudden confession joggled Moe’s comedy noir train of thought.
“You Dummy, we always win!!” he smirked;
‘Cause he knows I know it’s his cue to whack Curly with his hat,
kick him in the shins or jab him in the eye.

Moe handed me and Curly cigars.
I looked carefully at the label…made sure mine wouldn’t explode.
Macanudos…sans charge.
We all lit up and watched the gulls circle overhead.
It’s after five on Friday, and the film crew’s all gone home.

Curly blew out a blue smoke plume, and practiced changing from black & white to color.
“Yeah, we always win. No surprises there.
But we made ’em all laugh, through a war and a couple ’a depressions
How many Brandos can claim that?!
Hell, I been dead fifty years…folks are STILL laughing!
We’re Vaudevillians…and we did a damn good job.”

Curly gave me a warm, shy smile and vanished.
Moe flew home to his wife and kids.
Larry may still be chasing that crimson woman.

I awoke to “Whooop, oooop, oooop, oooop!”

I will always love the working performer;
the actor whose picture hangs on the theater wall
behind the potted plant.

Making people laugh is a high calling.
From polio ward, to tenement, to the Front.
Fools like me take on the world
and always win.


* With sincere apologies to “Footprints” author Mary Stevenson.

Kay Kirscht
- Tuesday, December 19, 2000 at 16:21:35 (PST)
How do I heal?
how do we heal? is this still the question?
as to the healing of physical maladies, don't smoke, take vitamins, drink plenty of water, go to bed early, and listen to your mom.
and as to spiritual healing, if you're trying to heal your heart or just get rid of some vague feeling of discontentment (a western luxury), it would seem wise to remember that it is in giving that we receive. therefore..............

v. jones
- Friday, November 17, 2000 at 19:35:32 (PST)
How do I heal?
Hello! I'd like to have people check out my band Speed Limit 35's new CD, which can be heard at http://www.mp3.com/SpeedLimit35. Thanks in advance to all who give a song or two a listen!
Steve <srabeler@jcals.csc.com>
- Tuesday, September 26, 2000 at 14:15:54 (PDT)
Where do I begin?
Peter,
The conversation between my father and me at the question,
"Where do I begin", is not drawn from a transcript.
It is based on memory of actual conversations and perhaps
more importantly, on things that were never said between
my father and I, but were felt and/or implied through the
years of our relationship.
As Alzhiemers gradually took my father's mind away, it
became increasingly important for him and I to reconcile
many outstanding feelings, questions and concerns. You can
see some of this in my writing throughout the first
journey of Life Raft, particularly in "Where is home?",
"How do I learn? (The last ride home)" and then finally
in the last question of the first journey, "How do I heal?".
This last exploration is particularly critical and cathartic
as it deals with difficult feelings that were suppressed for
many years.
I never saw my father alive again after the conversation in
"Where do I begin?" was written. I can only hope that
wherever his spirit lives, that he sees the love, forgiveness
and reconciliation that I have written about during the journey
of Life Raft.
Thank-you for your positive words and I am pleased that you were
inspired by my writing. Best of luck and love to you in your own
literary endeavors.
Rob Hughes <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Saturday, September 16, 2000 at 08:56:54 (PDT)
Where do I begin?
I read your piece, 'My Father is so far away'. I was very moved by it. It is very good writing. I have a question about it, though, as I am a writer. Was it a transcript of an actual conversation, or was it a transcript which was expanded upon? Either way I still think it is beautiful, honest, and inspiring. I was just curious.

PjD
Peter Joseph Dranchuk <wordjuggler@geocities.com>
- Sunday, September 10, 2000 at 08:50:14 (PDT)
How do I heal?
there's a journey that i am on. i am afraid. I'm not afraid of you or you or you. i'm afraid of me and terrified of all these memories.

i've been carrying this duffel bag upon my back for an awful long time... it's crowded with memories one by one that I shoved in there when they happened, and I frantically zipped them up tight and i threw the bag high up on my shoulders and i walked... i walked and walked with the burden of complete shame... because I couldn't face those events... i was too small... i was so young. now that i am in my 40s... my perception is off-the-wall distorted; heck, i can't 'see' worth a damn. because , because ... i was only surviving. they assigned a role to me and i knew they hated me... the real me. the little girl that loved with every breath and wanted so much to be loved in return. so i hid me. and they told me to play 'mommie' and sometimes i had to play 'daddy' too... and there was no limits on the games... not one boundary. because their mommie and daddy must have hurt them too. i must have thought, because i was a child, they could hurt the role player but whatever they did, it couldn't hurt 'me'... 'me' was hidden. at least i thought 'me' was.

i was so wrong...

i'm so tired of self-sabotaging myself--- destroying my life before me because of all this shame that consumes me... the shame of it all... even though after awhile, i couldn't remember what was in that duffel bag. i knew it was getting heavier though. the damn thing weighed so much that it bent me over in my struggles to walk. it made me trip and stumble. it grew year after year like a cancer... sallowing up every bit of my worth... it ate my needs and it wrapped me in a beautiful black fur-coat of co-dependency.

today... i don't like this co-dependency. it doesn't make sense. i keep repeating, reassuring myself: i'm safe. i'm safe. i'm safe except from the dark room of horrors that lies inside, inside my own brain.

i've been trying to open that duffel bag and pull out a memory one by one. but some of them ... they can't wait on me, and they rush out of the bag completely unwanted... but even if I don't like them, i have to look at them... so somehow i can let them go. they're not like eating cotton candy at a fair... they hurt me. like a freight train rolling over my body on a track again, again and again. it really hurts. not one of them make me feel good. and i'm just hoping... i'm hoping like a child that those worst ones were the first ones to come out... just because, i don't know how many more tears i have to go before this is over with... and the bag is finally empty.

i want to be happy. i want to love myself. I know this bag that weighs so much labels me a survivor of physical, emotional and sexual abuse... it's just a label. one that i have to acknowledge and accept. i just so much want to be a thriver. i want to not be afraid of people anymore. i don't want to collect abusers in my pocket like shiny new coins. and i want to be proud of me... proud of all the little things that i can do...and not belittle them.

and to heal... I'm working through a 12-step problem, looking for a therapist that i can trust, and i'm asking myself... 'why can't i turn the safety switch off now?' and it ain't a joyride by any means... because bandaids don't work so well on wounds that are really deep... but i know all of it is gonna be worth it--- because i'm truly worth it!

Special Note: The Morris Center has a wonderful website online for adults who were abused as children. If someone is out there that needs a starting point to facing the fear..., it's a beginning: http://www.ascasupport.org

ramona... <peace and love ...>
- Tuesday, August 22, 2000 at 13:59:22 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Marble Lady painting by Jaisini

In his art, Jaisini insists on overcoming of the dehumanization, the suppression of sensuality. In every historical period there are ideas and problems which are expressed and will not come to pass. Jaisini seeks to identify this idea in the present, excavate it from the past, and invent it in a new way for the future. In the murky, anxious world of ours, in the midst of the soul's confusions and the multiplying moral losses, the artist seeks and always finds some big and small islands of "eternal truths," and asserts the indestructible age-long parables that reveal these truths in the new light, in his own system of sign-images. I realize that the more you look at "Gleitzeit" works and think, the more you see, feel, and understand, but never completely, as given work always has too many aspects. There is always some kind of "space" in the painting, on which the observer feels free, without a persistent prompting of the artist, to use his own system of perception. To me, "Marble Lady" seems as a late modern modification of the Greek myth of the sculptor Pygmalion, who used his illusionist skill to satisfy a private fantasy of the ideal woman. Disappointed by the imperfections of the opposite sex, he created Galatea out of marble and during a festival in honor of venus, Pygmalion prayed for a woman as perfect as his statue. Venus answered his prayer by bringing his statue to life and eliminated the boundary between reality and illusion. In Jaisini's "Marble Lady," the object of the intense desire remains alluring, yet perpetually distant. Desire of the others is often imagined in terms of a fetish. The so-called civilized man can be considered in his delight of female form.

In "Marble Lady," we find the two types of spectatorship: the masculine and the non-masculine. Therefore, an image of the woman is defined through the desire of both spectators, the unmanly poet and the savage who may well be a subscriber to "Penis Power Quarterly." The statue of Galatea was and still is the symbol of fictional perfection, a result of the search for ideal woman that parallels the artist's own creative urge. Post-feminist culture has found a way to reinvent the woman as she once was: eager to appear The "Marble Lady" enables male domination by being unreachable and desirable. The construction of such a female identity fiction can inspire both high and low natures. In all of his works, Jaisini unites both of these principles, integrating art into the material life, breaking out of art's ivory tower.
"Marble Lady" is a compact, pyramidal composition of the "trio." As in all of his works, Jaisini subdues the figures to the articulation of line and its rhythmic connection between forms in space, a sort of analytical process, based on the line swinging which starts up ideas, shapes, and colors. The line arabesques are these highly individual textures of Jaisini's art. A decorative role of the painting's color is to create the temperature contrast of the heated environment with the marble-cold statue.

In modern and postmodern times, there are increasingly fewer outlets for sensual urges and desires which lay at the origin of human society that imposes restrictions. Sexuality remained beyond the scope of most art history. Interaction between male and female is still responsible for the continued functioning of the universe.

by Yustas Kotz-Gottlieb

Thank you for reading

Marble Lady (Oil painting) by Paul Jaisini, New York 2000
Text Copyright: Yustas Kotz-Gottlieb
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

yustas kotz-gottlieb <yustas61@aol.com>
- Friday, July 21, 2000 at 18:40:15 (PDT)
What is music to my ears?

Natural Peace #1

Music was wending through the trees
as a sweet dove wanting to find her lover.

The leaves danced wildly with the wind
and the sun flickered as daylight starlight.

The branches swayed cool and gentle
with complex tempos in perfect counterpoint.

The forest was the orchestra of the unseen maestro
inspired to symphonic bliss.

Now mellow with the mist now magic with the night,
fresh sonata with the morning light.

Instruments of harmony growing with the day
to a great crescendo... cycles of leit motiffs.

Inspired composition cut loose with passion
as the sweet dove once again intertwines
in the wings of her lover.


Rob Hughes <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Wednesday, July 19, 2000 at 20:21:32 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Kay,
Thanks for the day spa totem. I feel better already. My legs are a little wobbly from the first powerful dose of relaxation and good spirit, but it feels great. Thanks again and may the wind caress your smile.
Rob <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Saturday, July 01, 2000 at 07:12:24 (PDT)
How do I heal?

OK, this little fella won't make you any money...but he can make you smile - even on the days when everyone's posting chain-SPAM!

This day spa totem has been sent to you for heavy-duty stress relief.
He has been sent around the world ten times so far.

Just looking at him promotes deep relaxation.

The Aveda Corporation developed him in 1985, but kept him under wraps
because people were relaxing too much and getting into car accidents.
So don't look at him when you are driving, or operating your blender.
Especially when you are pouring in the white rum.

He likes white rum. Yum, yum.

This totem doesn't give a damn if you don't forward him within 96 hours.
He'll hang out with your other e-mail -- offering free cyber-massages,
composing affirmations and making sure your supply of bath salts
and peppermint foot lotion
never runs out.

Hawaiian DAY SPA TOTEM -- Aloha!

\ \ \ | | | / /
=========
// | O • O | \\
\ '@' /
_| |_



Kay A. Kirscht <kaybird@toast.net>
- Friday, June 30, 2000 at 08:56:51 (PDT)
How do I heal?
GIVE a LITTLE GET A LOT!

THIS REALLY CAN MAKE YOU EASY MONEY!! IT WORKS!!! BUT YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW IT TO THE
LETTER FOR IT TO WORK!!!!
A little while back, I was browsing through newsgroups, just like you are now, and came across an article similar to
this that said you could make thousands of dollars within weeks
with only an initial investment of $6.00! So I thought,' Yeah, right, this must be a scam', but like most of us, I was
curious, so I kept reading. Anyway, it said that you send $1.00 to each
of the 6 names and address stated in the article. You then place your own name and address in the bottom of the list
at #6, and post the article in at least 200 newsgroups (There are thousands). No catch, that was it. So after thinking it
over, and talking to a few people first, I decided to try it. I figured what have I got to lose except 6 stamps and $6.00,
right? Like most of us, I was a little skeptical and a little worried about the legal aspects of it all. So I checked it out
with the U.S. Post Office (1-800-725-2161) and they confirmed that it is indeed legal!
Then I invested the measly $6.00. Well GUESS WHAT!!... within 7 days, I started getting money in the mail! I was
shocked! I figured it would end soon, but the money just kept coming in. In my first week, I made about $25.00. By
the end of the second week I had made a total of over $1,000.00! In the third week I had over $10,000.00 and it's
still growing. This is now my fourth week and I have made a total of just over $42,000.00 and it's still coming in
rapidly. It's certainly worth $6.00, and 6 stamps.
Let me tell you how this works and most importantly, why it works.... also, make sure you print a copy of this article
NOW, so you can get the information off of it as you need it.
STEP 1: Get 6 separate pieces of paper and write the following on each piece of paper PLEASE PUT ME ON
YOUR MAILING LIST.' Now get 6 US $1.00 bills and place ONE inside EACH of the 6 pieces of paper so the bill
will not be seen through the envelope. This is to prevent thievery. Next, place one paper in each of the 6 envelopes
and seal them. You should now have 6 sealed envelopes, each with a piece of paper stating the above phrase, your
name and address, and a $1.00 bill. What you are doing is creating a service by this. THIS IS ABSOLUTELY
LEGAL! Mail the 6 envelopes to the following addresses:

#1) Brandon 94 Sanders Ave. Lowell, MA 01851
#2) Ann 13019 Bridger Dr. Germantown, MD 20874
#3) P. Carroll 103 Kings Highway East, Haddonfield, N.J. 08033
#4) J. Weber 46 Union Ave. Tarrytown, NY 10591
#5) K. Fuhrmark 421 Dorothy Dr. Des Plaines, IL 60016
#6) Rose 1316 Galisteo Pkwy. Santa Fe, NM 87505

STEP 2: Now take the #1 name off the list that you see above, move the other names up (6 becomes 5, 5 becomes 4,
etc...) and add YOUR Name as number 6 on the list.
STEP 3: Change anything you need to, but try to keep this article as close to original as possible. Now, post your
amended article to at least 200 newsgroups. (I think there are close to 24,000 groups) All you need is 200, but
remember, them more you post, the more money you make!
---DIRECTIONS -----HOW TO POST TO NEWSGROUPS------------
Step 1) You do not need to re-type this entire letter to do your own posting. Simply put your cursor at the beginning
of this letter,then click and drag your cursor to the bottom of this
document. Select 'copy' from the edit menu. This will copy the entire letter into the computers memory.
Step 2) Open a blank 'notepad' file and place your cursor at the top of the blank page. From
the 'edit' menu select 'paste'. This will paste a copy of the letter into notepad so that you can add your name to the
list.
Step 3) Save your new notepad file as a .txt file. If you want to do your postings in different
sittings, you'll always have this file to go back to.
Step 4) Use Netscape or Internet explorer and try searching for various newsgroups (on-line forums, message
boards, chat sites, discussions.)
Step 5) Visit these message boards and post this article as a new message by highlighting the text of this letter and
selecting paste from the edit menu. Fill in the Subject, this will be the header that
everyone sees as they scroll through the list of postings in a particular group, click the post message button. You're
done with your first one! Congratulations...THAT'S IT! All you have to do is jump to different newsgroups and post
away, after you get the hang of it, it will take about 30 seconds for each newsgroup!
**REMEMBER, THE MORE NEWSGROUPS YOU POST IN, THE MORE MONEY YOU WILL MAKE!! BUT
YOU HAVE TO POST A MINIMUM OF 200** That's it! You will begin reciving money from around the world
within days! You may eventually want to rent a P.O.Box due to the large amount of mail you will receive. If you
wish to stay anonymous, you can invent a name to use, as long as the postman will deliver it. **JUST MAKE SURE
ALL THE ADDRESSES ARE CORRECT.**
Now the WHY part: Out of 200 postings, say I receive only 5 replies (a very low example). So
then I made $5.00 with my name at #6 on the letter. Now, each of the 5 persons who just sent me $1.00 make the
MINIMUM 200 postings, each with my name at #5 and only 5 persons respond to each of the original 5, that is
another $25.00 for me, now those 25 each make 200 MINIMUM posts with my name at #4 and only 5 replies each, I
will bring in an additional $125.00! Now, those 125 persons turn around and post the MINIMUM 200 with my name
at #3 and only receive 5 replies each, I will make an additional $625.00! OK, now here is the fun part, each of those
625 persons post a MINIMUM 200 letters with my name at #2 and they each only receive 5 replies, that just made
me $3,125.00!!! Those 3,125 persons will all deliver this message to 200 newsgroups with my name at #1 and if still
5 persons per 200 newsgroups react I will receive $15,625.00! With a original investment of only $6.00!
AMAZING! When your name is no longer on the list, you just take the latest posting in the newsgroups, and send
out another $6.00 to names on the list, putting your name at number 6 again. And start posting again. The thing to
remember is, do you realize that thousands of people all over the world are joining the internet
and reading these articles everyday, JUST LIKE YOU are now!! So can you afford $6.00 and
see if it really works?? I think so... People have said, 'what if the plan is played out and no one sends you the
money? So what! What are the chances of that happening when there are tons of new honest users and new honest
people who are joining the internet and newsgroups everyday and are willing to give it a try? Estimates are at 20,000
to 50,000 new users, every day, with thousands of those joining the actual internet. Remember, play FAIRLY and
HONESTLY and this will work.
Enjoy the money, Rose



Rose
- Wednesday, June 28, 2000 at 20:48:59 (PDT)
How do I heal?
While traveling abroad, a multicultural experience to say the least, I was prevy to see on Larry King a man who perhaps is closest to understanding the nature of good...Who is God?
God is the infinite, unbounded, eternal intelligence that constantly projects itself as the Universe--through the creation of space, time, matter and infinite energy.
www.howtoknowgod.com
paul <pt.mlc@worldnet.att.net>
- Thursday, June 15, 2000 at 13:18:35 (PDT)
How do I heal?
In my neighborhood, overstuffed 70s horrors show up on every streetcorner and in every alley at the end of May...when the college set moves out. This piece currently resides in back of 3816 Grand Avenue, S., Minneapolis:


COUCH SONG


Hey, you! Over here, by the dumpster!


I could be your sofa!
I come from the apartment down the block.
They brought me here after nightfall.


Your landlord passes me and swears.
He’ll pay lots to haul me away.
You could save him the money and trouble.


I came from LevitTown, in ’78; I was the beauty!
A snow white, make-out couch…drizzled with plush, zebra-print cushions adorned with fringe.
Queen of the parlor.


The color of my upholstery is now mottled gray…and cream…
a fabric history of stray liquids, greasy hands and salsa.
Sides and back only slightly shredded by tiny claws.


Now I view stars instead of textured ceiling,
My coffee table’s an arbor vitae.
The moon usurped the globe light fixture above me.
And I set, pale and good-looking, in the moonlight.
I could your living room’s showpiece…


Cheetohs,. M&Ms, popcorn kernels, small toys, loose change,
And one TV remote hide in my deepest crevices.


Your roommate passes me and swears.
“Harvey, please, Gawd…don’t take this in!” he mutters to himself.
He would break me into a thousand pieces
to keep that from happening.


Did I tell you I’m a hide-a-bed…er…sort of?
If you jump on me -- to get the gears and metal back in.
It takes three people, a hammer and a crowbar to unfurl me.
We could be very happy together.


It rained on me last night.
I now weigh 2000 pounds and am plastered with oak leaves,
But no longer covered in pet fur.


Take me into your home!
I will be yours
Until the cat pees on me…
Again.

Kay A. Kirscht <kaybird@toast.net>
- Thursday, May 25, 2000 at 17:32:08 (PDT)
How do I heal?
Land ho...!
Rob
- Friday, April 21, 2000 at 12:24:28 (PDT)
Says Who?
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a thousand masks that I am afraid to take off and none of them
are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled, for
God's sake don't be fooled.
I give the impression that I am secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game;
that the waters are calm and I am in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me, please.

My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask.
'Neath this lies no compliance.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear of being exposed.
That is why I frantically create a mask to hide behind;
a nonchalant, sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only salvation. And I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance, if it is followed by love.
It is the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I am worth something.

But, I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I am afraid to.
I am afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love.
I am afraid you will think less of me, that you will laugh at me,
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate game,
with a facade of assurance without, and a trembling child within.
And so begins the parade of masks, and my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that is really nothing,
and nothing of what is everything,
of what is crying within me;
So when I am going through my routine do not be fooled by what I am saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I am not saying.
What I would like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say, but I can't say.

I dislike hiding, Honestly!
I dislike the superficial game I am playing, the phony game.
I would really like to be genuine and spontaneous, and me,
but you have got to help me. You have got to hold out your hand,
even when that is the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes that blank stare of breathing death.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you try to understand and because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings, but
wings.
With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your power of understanding,
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be the creator of the person that is me if you choose to.
Please choose to. You alone can break down the wall
behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask.
You alone can release me from my shadowworld of panic and uncertainty;
From my lonely person.
Do not pass me by.
Please... do not pass me by.

It will not be easy for you;
a long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me, the blinder I strike back.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that
love is stronger than walls, and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands,
but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.
_________________ Anonymous_____________________
pt
- Monday, April 17, 2000 at 09:23:11 (PDT)
How do I let go?
Liferaft equipment,spare parts,
Alamdar safety co. <tahsin_kh@yahoo.com>
- Friday, April 14, 2000 at 23:51:56 (PDT)
Says Who?
Wind

the spirit is on the wind
on your hill or porch or beach
turn your face to the breeze
and let it bathe your skin

and when the strong wind blows
lean in to the force
and find your balance
that gives you strength

it comes from the sea
lifts high above the mountains
and winds through the valleys
to race across the plains

in the city the wind is wild
and turns with every corner
seeking the end of the alley
until it slams against the wall

nowhere to turn
at the end of its journey
a time of reckoning
and a blow to be considered

the hurricane comes quickly
and destroys loose fittings
making a time to build and grow
another chance to get it right

the gentle breeze caresss the soul
thoughtful guidance to a subtle journey
places never dreamed of
and dreams that take you home

may you face the wind and dance
may you touch the wind and know
for the spirit is on the wind
and for you the wind will blow



Rob Hughes <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Monday, April 10, 2000 at 19:25:02 (PDT)
Are we there yet?
When Isido Rabi, the 1944 Nobel prize winner in physics, was interviewed about
his achievements, he said he owed it all to his mother. "When we got out of school, all
the mothers would ask their children what they had learned that day. My
mother would inquire instead, 'What did you ask today in class?'

--Rabbi Nilton Bonder in Yiddishe Kop: Creative Problem Solving in jewish learning, Lore and Humor

from Spring 2000 issue of Spirituality & Health
Cata <relfian@aol.com>
- Tuesday, March 21, 2000 at 17:08:07 (PST)
Orbital
(For Vinnie, my favorite Lune)


I fell in love with the moon.
I did everything to affect his course and bring him closer to me.
Until one night the moon peered into my window –
with the crater that served as an eye – and said,
“I have come, in answer to your prayers.”


He was a lot larger than he looked in the magazines,
His round fullness spilled over the back yard into the parking lot.
His rear end rested against an apartment building.


“I am a Planet, dear woman, one of millions orbiting the heavens.
At night I’m ruthlessly cold, by day you can fry eggs on my surface.
I am pocked with space junk, and I have an American Flag sticking out one ear.
Various astronauts came, thought they saw their futures in me, tried to use me as a golf course.
The golf course idea didn’t work; they all went home.”


“I’ve had it with humans, but I like your spunk. What will you have of me?”
“Save me!” I cried, “Make me whole!! Change my entire life!!”


“Ah – I am simply the screen on which your dreams are writ.” the white orb replied,
“– The stuff of obsession, not love.
Only You can save you, my dear.
And, despite my incredible strength what pulls the tides…
only You have the power and will to make you whole.”


“As far as changing your life;” he continued,
“if I rolled over on you, I would crush you flat!”


“I will return where I belong;” moon gently sighed, “ that is the loving thing to do,
and will cast you this light lent to me by the Sun – who also fell for me, eons ago:
I can only reflect.
Use me to see your dreams, and once you’ve seen them – run for them
like the newly hatched turtle heads for the ocean. Your power is Yours, and your heart’s desire rests therein!”


With that, moon vaulted back into the sky
Dimly lit the path below; caressed the lines on my face.
I will be whole, and I own my power.
I will never give it away.
My heart’s desire is at hand.

Kay Kirscht
- Monday, January 17, 2000 at 15:37:55 (PST)
I have loved you for so many years.
You are my friend but you do not return the intensity of my emotions.
I spend every waking moment (and quite a few sleeping ones as well) trying to resolve this endless
ache in my soul.
Just because you make me whole does not mean I will ever do so for you.
There is no future in this.
You and I will never be one.
y soul will never be complete.
How do I stop loving you when nothing changes what I feel?
Not the anger or frustration or the lack of returned feelings.
What I feel for you is beyond my control.
I live and breathe it in spite of myself.

How do I let go?
Agnes
- Wednesday, January 12, 2000 at 08:08:11 (PST)
Alleged Former Terrorists have Garage Sales Too.
(Song for Sara Jane)

The First People of Oregon had a ritual;
a coming-of-age for their daughters.
A girl, dancing alone for three days and three nights,
could see her future in an abalone shell.
If she saw only darkness -- her future would be as dim.

====================

My buddies are still trying to figure out
who the Symbionese are,
point out their country on a map,
and answer why they chose to liberate white, American college students
before themselves.

She’d have one garage sale a year,
she’d sell things you couldn’t find here.
Neat stuff – but no story.

Two blocks over, a re-assigned Sister of St. Joseph’s would have a sale.
From around the world; each treasure enfolded --
a story, freely told…of savannah, dusty blue skies;
children with wide grins and bright eyes.
Stories stuck to whatever I bought; an indelible portrait.

====================

All she would say is she lived in South Africa; then had to leave.
“Why” her family “had to leave” South Africa was understood;
I didn’t pry.
But the way she said it…to know exile that well.
“Having to leave”…was a recurring, painful, condition --
As cancer, out of remission.
I took her as One who feels strongly; fears little; faced massive reversal.

The problem was,
there was far more story than she could tell.

Long before South Africa, she was in love;
with the stage-less and very real drama of daring.
A surprised survivor, who --
Found herself no longer dependent on bombs and guns for change.

She sold me a shell.
A beautiful, black pearl oyster shell;
iridescent, large as your hand – fingers splayed out.
It sat flat on the palm, reflecting gray, blue-white, and silent.
The dark peace of a storm front passed over;
the sun making fleeing clouds appear black.

Sara Jane -- was it really that dark? Truly that bad?
A gray shell…still full of promise,
From a woman who already knew her future.
Tania
- Wednesday, June 23, 1999 at 15:31:50 (PDT)
I feel happy if i'm alone, but sometimes it is not easy to be alone in so many other things. Is it normal?
Sheila Miller <chay_miller@hotmail.com>
- Tuesday, May 18, 1999 at 06:40:56 (PDT)
I feel happy if i'm alone, but sometimes it is not easy to be alone in so many other things. Is it normal?
Sheila Miller
- Tuesday, May 18, 1999 at 06:39:02 (PDT)
Why is it that every February i have an uncontrolable urge to pack in everything and i mean everything and go and do something different instead.
I've come to that crux time again??
keith <dybbs@hotmail.com>
- Friday, February 12, 1999 at 12:03:29 (PST)
Avec Celeste, c'est facile!
Babar
- Wednesday, February 10, 1999 at 21:01:43 (PST)
I began in a hell that cannot be described adequately.
I survived that hell and graduated to a lesser level of hell.
Again, I overcame that obstacle and was rewarded with fewer restrictions.
Such was the pattern of my life until I was free from bondage.
Now, I begin anew. I begin as a free spirit. A spirit that does not bow to others nor tries to repress them. For thirty plus years, I have only survived, now I live. That is where I begin.
D
- Saturday, February 06, 1999 at 09:07:14 (PST)
Says who?
Cata <relfian@aol.com>
- Thursday, February 04, 1999 at 19:17:45 (PST)
to the lady that tends the flowers here:
in my life to have substance and produce that which breaks forth from the ground in beauty and allows the passerby a moment of serenity, i need the ability to endure the strong winds and the harsh weather---and i hope to find that strength today deep within me...
a white rose offered
- Wednesday, January 13, 1999 at 14:08:58 (PST)
The question of where I begin depends somewhat upon where you end. Perhaps I live for all of us, or some of us, maybe a few of us, or just me, beginning obligatorily from wherever my individual consciousness hales. In select moments, I am suspended and certainly do not begin because you do not end, and I ride you to wherever you ride - cloaking the meness of I in the youness of you. Some days I begin at the edge of my bed. The first startling lurch from sleep might come as a great rumbling of my nostrils which only to late do I realize was really just me. A premature end of my slumber, a ripe beginning of the examination of where I begin. Today, I begin between the passage of time.
Brad Stevenson <andando@aol.com>
- Tuesday, January 12, 1999 at 12:21:03 (PST)
On a blue-cold day,
in a hole carved in snow,
I place my wishes for you below.

Why waste time, much less words,
on those who can’t love;
unable, incapable -- of that mighty act.
Let the dead heart bury itself, and don’t look back!

...And the trees are tired
of all the nails, and reddened palms.
My Lord, these days, is often heard to say,
“Cross-hanging is NOT on Your resume.”

“It’s been done!” (and not with mirrors).
The original heals, conquers fears --
and hasn’t seen a tree in 2,000 years.

Change your act, and pry yourself off --
Swear off abuse (and hardware),
and gaze toward your shiny, “I”-filled future.
Pasts are for reference; not for living in.

Madame Bowser <(For Ramona and a New Year)>
- Monday, January 11, 1999 at 15:59:33 (PST)
a gift of hollowness/a colorless flower that I never watered/one that melted within my hands like wax/the heat bubbled blisters/bruises-scars my flesh inside&out//how sorrow envelopes and seals the still beat of a heart that's hallways are littered with the aftermath of an empty man/a man who/never in frog-eyes saw eternity there in the iris bleeding forth before him/or the sincerity of love within his own grasp//crumbling/tossing/small *i* within the nightmare of a voodoo doll he sticks with his letter-openers/intensely as if possessed by fever:lust/he nails *i* on a cross/stabs *i* again and again/shouts forth his innocence/buries the metallic cross + *i* into the ground/cowards as he kneels on the fresh ground above *i*/spills forth his shame/asks God for forgiveness//and bridges burn forth everyday ... how no material on this earth can ever rebuild those between a hollow empty heart and a real one...
ramona...
- Sunday, January 10, 1999 at 15:44:35 (PST)
Hey, Rob.
We're coming up on a year since we lost Dad. Here's a short poem I wrote:

I'll never hear him sing "ba-ba-bum"
while listening to a sweet tune,
or see his smile and shake his big, thick hand.
I won't see him hold his rose's finest bloom.
His lawn's no longer the best.
Yet I think I'll hear his voice at the stadium
when a bad call gets the loudest protest.
Come, memory, let us seek him among the biggest trees.
Ray Hughes
- Monday, November 30, 1998 at 21:00:55 (PST)
"Buzz" Aldrin is reported to have said something as he stepped on the moon which was bleeped out of the voice sounds we heard that day back in 1969. Those in Command Control in Houston heard it, however, and speculation has existed for years over what his words meant.
He said, "Good luck, Mr. Gorsky!" just as his foot made contact.
Was there a Russian with them? Impossible. What did it mean? A secret ritual? No way to know. Repeated requests for explanation were ignored.
Finally, last summer, the former astronaut was asked, while attending a NASA conference in Atlanta, if he could end speculation and explain the phrase.
Aldrin paused to consider the request. Finally, he agreed, saying that Mr. Gorsky was now dead and it probably wouldn't hurt.
It seems that when Ed Aldrin was growing up he lived next door to the Gorskys. When he was about thirteen years old a friend and he were playing catch when the ball got away and went into the Gorsky's yard. Young Ed went to retrieve the ball and while leaning down to pick it up he heard Mrs. Gorsky's voice: "ORAL SEX? Oral sex, you say? You'll get oral sex when the boy next door walks on the MOON".
Coyote
- Thursday, November 12, 1998 at 17:52:47 (PST)

the singer is I CHING playing to the tune: "Every ending contains a new beginning"...

can that mean... if my ending is here, is yet your beginning here too?


Arial
- Tuesday, November 10, 1998 at 18:41:21 (PST)
yes, you are - and yes, you have - and yes, your warmth is the comfort of a journey taken not in vain and of a place discovered that caresses and nourishes the weary soul. Never say good-bye. and when you do, I do not hear it. I am deaf to good-byes. They are sound without vibration. They fall into a deep place where someday the light shines on them and they become hello and thank-you, it's good to see you again.
Rob
- Monday, November 09, 1998 at 15:00:13 (PST)
I blow a kiss into the wind across the wires...I hope that it can somehow find you and warm you for just a second with all the small pieces of ME that I handed you: Fitzgerald, puzzle pieces in a shoebox, balloons, a campfire, a rainy lawnmowing day, How I love you, candywrappers, Santa Claus, witches and goblins that lived under my bed, lightning bugs, butterflies, a touch from God, and a porch swing... I am but simple, but I am just completely me...naive and childlike...believing everything and hoping that the words in return were as real as me...I am alive... I breath... I've never looked like you... my face and body is not what you imagined... I am not the barbie doll that sits in a box on a toyshelf awaiting your dollars to buy it... I am not attractive... my skin is not plastic...I guess that I'm not as good as you even when I try really hard... I'm sorry for misleading you in the words that came simply from my soul...I had only hoped to be somewhat like you... goodbye . . .
ramona...
- Saturday, November 07, 1998 at 07:15:25 (PST)
Hi Rob!
It's me again! And I am trying to reach your son Derek again! I am Reno Nv. this time! Hi DEREK!!!!! Leave me an e-mail at cyurn@usa.net! I hope all is well with you! I miss you. Bye for now.

Where do I begin.... Well, when I am looking for Derek I begin here! ;)

Cyburn

P.S. like minded, open minded people seeking other thought provoking websites checkout burningman.com and all related links!
Marc <Cyburn@usa.net>
- Friday, October 16, 1998 at 08:43:51 (PDT)
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." -- some singer
on the radio whose name I've not bothered to learn though I've heard the song
so many times and it's kind of a catchy tune. So many media, so little time.
Cata <cata@celeste_the_chess_queen.com>
- Saturday, October 10, 1998 at 22:49:08 (PDT)
the beginning of birth/realization/coming forth/being true to oneself: take it step by step...from the seed the roots form and the stem gently spreads apart the earth as it reaches forth to touch the sun...slowly as it grows, leaves give birth to small minute buds that hide for a time ...awaiting the truth that is merely within it to bloom...
ramona
- Monday, September 21, 1998 at 06:41:44 (PDT)
I don't know where to begin????? the cocoon is ripped and opened and I can't get out of it...but I know that it is here that I must say...I must say the phrase because it bothers me not to say it... and I know that you will read it one day...I went and I saw that you were not there anymore...it made me cry... and I wondered where your firecrackers were and the rainbow letters and the psalms delivered from your heart...I miss you my dear friend... I love you dearly, but I just don't know where to begin...(KNG)
me to you
- Thursday, September 10, 1998 at 07:10:27 (PDT)
Ihappened upon your sight quite by accident. I came, I experienced, I left and was mesmerized by it's content. Bless those who are saved by the liferaft.
dot
- Wednesday, September 09, 1998 at 17:26:29 (PDT)
Where do simple "i"s begin...do they come in the middle after the "h"s in this life...what are these alphabet letters that I read over and over again... do they convey those elements that are more than musky paper with tearstained ink left cruppled in a cedar chest of dreams that never came true...I ask this white sheet with black letters firmly pressed upon it... can you *see*...can you *breath*...can you *carry* my thoughts, my hopes, my desires and my passions within this simple *i*...
Arial
- Wednesday, September 09, 1998 at 11:51:49 (PDT)
Love, what is love?
Love is like a flower,
it needs water, sun,
care, tenderness,and
more love. So learn
to water your flowers
and let them have some
sunlight or thay shall
wilt and die.

(ps do me a favor, plow your gardens and water your flowers.)
Caracal <Caracal_nwh@hotmail.com>
- Thursday, September 03, 1998 at 11:35:03 (PDT)
Most people ask Why ???

I just say why bother wondering
Cypher <cypher@wowmail.com>
- Monday, August 17, 1998 at 05:02:06 (PDT)
I've seen that commercial too...
hmmmm
- Sunday, August 02, 1998 at 19:32:13 (PDT)
"This is what Drugs do to you!" she said as she took the fry-pan,
and smashed all of the glasses, cups and dishes.
Then she entered the next room, and cleared the coffeetable of its lamp in one blow.
"Violence is your drug!" he screamed at her,
as he ran out the door,
down the stairs,
and out of her life forever.
Any questions?
Kay Bowser <Realize the Emperor has no clothes... >
- Thursday, July 30, 1998 at 12:24:13 (PDT)
Rob, Thanks for inviting me to life raft. It has been very intense to share in the "On the Dock" experiences. The stories about your dad were particularly touching. I try to spend a lot of time with my parents and in-laws so that they will know the joy of their children and grandchild. See you soon.
Karen
Karen Castellon
- Wednesday, July 01, 1998 at 20:21:37 (PDT)
You may like the trilogy on Utopia at
http://www.erols.com/jonwill/

Enjoy,
Jon
Jon Will <jonwill@erols.com>
- Wednesday, July 01, 1998 at 19:30:55 (PDT)
Dear Rob and all of you here on the Life Raft,

Today, I am having problems with accountability and all those folks out on the internet who claim to be true and are simply not all that they seem... and I thought... am I accountable?...or am I not... so I give you, me... I am Artemis, I am Emily, I am Arial, I am simply all the dots that you see on the page... but never have I not put my whole heart into everything that I have written... and never once did I write something that wasn't true...I have not hidden but behind a name because...because I have always been afraid that you ...you could hurt me...

and today...today the flower that I hold has been ripped from the soil in which it grew...it's love and grandeur is nomore...the tears are flowing because somehow even with all the names hiding me, I have NOT hide the one thing the metallic wires connecting all of us has the ability to simply destroy... a simple heart that is true...and I wonder...is there ANY more out there at ALL...hearts on a wire begging for just a moment...a moment of a connection...a touch reaching out from me to you...
Ramona <rmastin@mindspring.com>
- Tuesday, June 23, 1998 at 07:58:38 (PDT)
Confrontation... do you or don't you... inside it pains...it pains like needles sticking in and out weaved throughout the pores of endless ties beween...laces of ribbons linking me to it/him/her...

I have confronted individuals at times when I thought that I could no longer bear the anxiety of NOT knowing the answer to the question of "why"...

Instead of feeling good and having my life laid out before me resolved... it troubled me more... because most often the individual made me the cause and left me still---still wondering the reason...
Artemis
- Monday, June 08, 1998 at 11:34:06 (PDT)
I have/will always loved/love the woman who solemnly cares for flowers in the winter time... a special lady that time has stopped and given us here on this dock in darkness and in light...her words are true to the heart and planted for you and me along this page...they bring comfort and assure that within us is the truth and nothing more...

Arial
- Wednesday, June 03, 1998 at 14:47:02 (PDT)
Adrienne --

The Dock is lovely and reflective -- a place for insight, not answers.
A 360-year-old Anishinabeg herb lady responds to your post.
Such things happen on the Web.
You need, and deserve, better council. See that you get it.

A year ago my car was rear-ended; totalled.
I told a friend; he responded, “See a doctor; You hurt.”
I felt OK, but he was right; accidents require proper attention.
This is what you do to take care of yourself.

What your mother (and, you -- by being her daughter) went through could be called an accident.
In the sudden violence, psyche shatters, and your mental frame gets all crunched up.
I can see the trauma in the storytellers of my circle; many are also survivors --
See it in the slightly altered line of a fender, or the crease
where paint once parted from metal.

I wish reason and accident would smash into each other; chances are they never will.
Even if you asked your mother’s abuser,
you won’t get an answer that could ever justify the means -- or satisfy you.
The answer you’d get would only make sense to the abuser.
Stay the heck away from them.

I hope your Mom finally found peace. Your job is to repair and heal.

Red Leaf
- Tuesday, June 02, 1998 at 14:53:14 (PDT)
I need to explore an answer to a very serious and painful question, Why was my mother chosen to be abused?she was an innocent child, and yet her sister's were not abused. yes i am very angry, my mother carried alot of that hurt with her for 48yrs of her life. but she died because of it. I as her only daughter needs to know why. please help me.
Adrienne
- Monday, June 01, 1998 at 11:47:30 (PDT)
That a woman could be so consumed by furies.


It’s been nearly a week. Our town has fallen strangely silent.
I caught Dad crying last night; in the dark, watching TV --
compulsively channel-surfing through news broadcasts without anchormen,
gameshows without hosts, commercials without voiceovers.


Mom spent the weekend in the kitchen, staring at her new blender.


Bart’s gone and rendered the murder scene in Playdoh.
The hapless husband; the purple-faced, death-dealing wife.
We were also going to mold various lovers, villians and monsters,
But we don’t know what happened; besides, we ran out of clay.


We’ve found two figures to be more than enough.


It’s a dark lesson, in a land of two-sided lives.
Here’s to two, who found God in each other’s eyes --
and ended up tasting Hell.

Lisa Simpson <age 9>
- Monday, June 01, 1998 at 09:21:20 (PDT)
I am little wall flower
pressed against a page
snug up against the cracks of the plastered edge.

blow me once,
blow me twice,
make a wish,
make it nice.

but little wall flower
crumbles into the floor
because little wall flower
has no roots.
Gloria
- Friday, May 29, 1998 at 13:34:32 (PDT)
How long do i sit on this shoreline waiting patiently for you to cast your sail? when will you open up your arms and put your ship out to sea. it's only infinity that keeps us adrift. sometimes it may seem that we are floating aimlessly, but what hearts do we meet along the way. is there a question that 'aimless' is for a reason and that direction knows no means. at first it may seem that the water is too deep . maybe even too filled up with jellyfish that glow in the dark, but that is only 'fear' that distracts you from your goal. give hope to all that wander here. spread out the goodwill that comes from within you and sprinkle it like crystals bouncing light out onto the sea.
Horace
- Thursday, May 28, 1998 at 17:25:11 (PDT)
Where do I begin when my beginnings have been so small? A child standing looking in the distance at a world that seems so far away. A world of darkness and disillusion. A world that reaches out with pointed nails of steel. Why are valentine hearts so hard to open? Overlaced with layers upon layers of concrete from so many hardships and pressed into each casual hello and goodbye. I wonder, is this heart that beats inside my chest like yours...a heavy metal door without a doorknob?
Artemis
- Saturday, May 23, 1998 at 18:33:23 (PDT)
Thank-you Rick, my dear friend for your kind and profound words. You struck the core. Thank-you for opening the flood gates and allowing the tears to flow freely again. We share these highly personal revelations publicly and I think that is good. That is what Life Raft is all about. We learn, we heal and we grow. Where do we begin? We begin here. We begin now. And we travel into unchartered waters. It is frightening and yet it is exhillerating. Like stepping off the pier with a single ski, rope in hand and the boat engine at full throttle. It was a powerful time to meet you and yours in the city. Perhaps a check point. We are not alone. I hope you and your wife are healing well. My thoughts and prayers go to you and her and to your and my friends who may suffer through the angst of change. Feelings flow with great power. They can generate the electricity of wisdom. Thank-you, dear friend.
Rob Hughes <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Saturday, May 09, 1998 at 08:24:15 (PDT)
Rob, I debated sending this as a personal email for your eyes only
(and then realized that Liferaft, your wonderful group-alterego, would
be a better medium). I'm embarrassed to tell you that I have not checked
in with Liferaft since early January. I've got lots of good excuses, like
multiple broken bones from an accident in the islands; like my wife Carol
in a hospital for several months. But these are tiny issues compared with
what I have just read.

Five minutes after being online with three junior high school and high
school friends (Bill Bruce, Pete Edberg & Frank Eyerly), I decided
to check out Liferaft for the first time in several months.

What triggered my thought to sign on to your facsinating and brilliantly
crafted website was this online "chat" (poor term, considering the
content of this chat)with my(our) friends. Frank is dying of cancer in
Seattle, and Bill and Pete flew up to be with him, and caught me on AOL,
inviting me to "talk" with Frank. He was brave. It was difficult and
wonderful and sad and scary. We alluded to our wild days in Pomona CA,
but, damn, one of our own is DYING. Yes, I've buried friends before,
some of whom died terribly in SE Asia (even one whose body I escorted
to the "world"). But this is, somehow, different.

So I was looking forward to some additional understandings from Liferaft
and its thoughtful prose. And then I learned of your Dad's death. A
death that occured within hours of our meeting (for the first time in over
20 years)in Manhattan for dinner, over five months ago. I'm so very sorry
Rob.

Leroy Hughes will always have this interesting place in my memory and my
heart. Of all of the fathers, he inspired the most "awe" from we young
teenagers. Several of us who hung out together had dads who were civic
leaders or school principals; but something else was going on with your
dad. He was this BIG man. My dad may have been taller, but Mr. Hughes
was larger-than-life. Those movie-star looks and deep commanding voice
made you pay attention. But then, with your attention riveted, he would
utter a comment that made you think. Teenagers in the late '50's and
early '60's were not supposed to THINK. To be addressed like you were
an adult, by an adult, was a wonderful (and a little scary) feeling. Now
my young friend Rob is an adult. And now, just like 40 years ago, he is
making these (very unlikely) sounds like a real adult. It must be Leroy
talking. And Rob should be very proud of himself (and of his dad).
I'm certainly proud to call you my friend. And I'll always cherish my
memories of your wonderful father.

I'm sorry this note took so long, Rob. Of course, I would have written it
even if the AOL chat with our dying friend had not happened a few hours
ago. But somehow the confluence of your dad's death within hours of our
December reunion, combined with my learning of your dad's death so soon
after my difficult online talk with our friends, somehow reached me in a
way difficult for me to describe. Of three things I'm certain, Rob; and
I knew this in mid-December in NYC: First, you are your father's son; and
second, you have every reason to be proud of this fact; and third, Leroy
Hughes is and was more proud of this fact than you.



Rick Asper <pilot143@aol.com>
- Sunday, May 03, 1998 at 15:57:53 (PDT)
I sat and wandered for many a mile. But came back to the same seashore found the sandcastle that I built a year or two ago. Sadly I thought, why did I leave, where did I go, and why am I back. I ventured inside to see the spot that held the answer for me, but the lights were dark. I knew not where the switch was to allow the light to flow inward. Because...because I had given it away.
Where do you go in life when you have given away all that you have? Will my children's children call me a fool or a martyr? Will I be your saviour or your sorrow?
This is where it begins and ends for me... my story:
... I think it was my soul talking to me...trying to tell me something that I hadn't even realized myself...well, I was talking to my daughter about people... she was having a problem... and I told her... you know you give the whole of your heart to people...you open up and show them who you are in this life... even if they don't open up and show you...but you open to show them how to open... but you may find in life that those people hurt you...that they can't open up and give back what you give to them...don't allow them to hurt you...no one should have the ability to hurt you for what you give...and don't feel that it is your fault or theirs... you just turn around and walk away...it's not their time in life to give... but you have given them the inspiration to look inward and think that there is a different way to relate in life...and maybe one day they will change...they will open up and realize that life is about giving more of your heart to people without worrying about what comes in return...

Artemis
- Thursday, April 30, 1998 at 21:07:22 (PDT)
TITLE: 60s Pop

Dad tells of music so happy.
Is he crazy? ... or magic?


///////////
-- Giant clamshells were commonly used as baptismal fonts in Catholic
Maritime churches until the turn-of-the-century. I found one while exploring
an old church in Duluth.
Kay Bowser <Magnetic Poetry Kits are a good way to start>
- Wednesday, April 29, 1998 at 14:45:57 (PDT)
Hello to the boys who sting along the duckling each day past my door..

Boing Boing
roaster toaster
Matt <jock@pock.com>
Flock, Mock Spain - Thursday, April 23, 1998 at 16:43:12 (PDT)
Erm, I dont really get this exploration thingy, I think it's too clever for me but here goes my attempt!

Giant clams can be large enough to have baths in!!!

Peter
Pete <peter@gregory2.force9.co.uk>
- Thursday, April 23, 1998 at 16:38:21 (PDT)
I love the title "life raft"! I too was a piece of driftwood that accidently ran into this raft out on the sea inbetween lines of urls in a common search engine... but to me...it wasn't something that took away from my time, but an addition...a simple mathematical problem of inspiration and finding the solution... I delighted in all the 'words' and 'thoughts'...and I wondered how it had escaped me so long before...I am happy to have found this "Life Raft" of discovery... I wish that it could be true with everyone...


ramona
- Wednesday, April 01, 1998 at 07:34:41 (PST)
I can understand your frustration if you are looking for information about life rafts and arived at our site. It is more difficult to understand your harsh tone and seeming hostility. Life Raft is not a commercial endeavor and realy advertises nothing more than a search for truth and understanding. Indeed, visitors and Web reviewers have viewed our style and content favorably. A search for life raft on a search engine will find metaphors, analogies, product information and advertisements, stories of fiction and fact and obscure references of minimal connection. This is the case with any word search on the web. As a pioneer on the web, we have always supported the freedom and tolerance for point of view and the exciting opportunity for exploration of thought and knowledge.We mean not to be an obstacle, but a vehicle to truth and understanding. I hope that you have found the information that you are looking for. I'm sorry that you did not find it on out site. I wish you the best in your search and I hope you may accept that we do not give the web a bad name, but that we celebrate the great opportunity that the web has provided for expanded communities of contemplation, understanding and cooperation... in the celebration of the spirit of creativity.Good luck to you. Sincerely, Rob
Rob
- Friday, March 27, 1998 at 18:13:33 (PST)
YOUR TITLE IS FALSE ADVERTISING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WAS EXPECTING TO FIND
INFO ON LIFE RAFTS AND I GOT THIS!!!!! I HIGHLY SUGEST YOU CHANGE THE NAME
ITS PEOPLE LIKE YOU WHO GIVE THE WEB A BAD NAME

Matthew Barron <Mtb17@yahoo.com>
Pendleton, IN USA - Wednesday, March 25, 1998 at 15:03:11 (PST)
hello. truth is that which is 'inside' resting calmly in each of us. sometimes the cynic makes it's way crawling into a beautiful heart filled with love. buries it in questions and destroys it. takes the truth that it believed and makes it nothing but a lie. can i turn the lights up. it's dark in here.
Arial
- Friday, March 13, 1998 at 15:33:17 (PST)
Peaceful warrior..............I do hope those who have scattered their words across these pages draw these eloquent thoughts of fear and love from true experiences.
Brian Kleinknight
- Friday, March 13, 1998 at 12:55:36 (PST)
hi
Wes
- Friday, March 13, 1998 at 03:29:17 (PST)
with my bow and arrows aimed straight, I sought to shoot them directly into your heart... because you were the one that hurt me...damaged me, smurred me on a page...a lipstick mark rubbed from top to bottom... I wanted to hate you... I wanted to hurt you... my mirror, my identity... the reflection in a pond...I live: yesterday, today...just to hear you say: I understand you... today can I wonder with you through the words...the scribblings on the page... broken and fragmented... because I am...my small, tender hand reaches out...just this moment... I place my bow down...and I ... I can feel... can you?...
artemis
- Tuesday, March 03, 1998 at 11:08:25 (PST)
I accidently started in the looking-glass and got confused at the image...a slight nightmarish memory... the queen of hearts in her redsoaked petticoat sliced my simple heart into, and gave a piece of it to the madhatter to serve along with his tea...but I still had the breath...the breath to say-- 'please let me out of here'...she laughed at me... told me my white apron was wrinkled and my beautiful blue dress was a hand-me-down...so...so ... I stripped it off... I f e l t ashamed... naked, naked surrounded by ALL these little puzzle pieces-- cards that had no faces...and they tried to cover me... make me into what they were... only trying to warm me... nothing more... but the coldness, the coldness of not having a heart was still there no matter how many multiplied...reproducing on top of me...buried in a mountain of faces with no meaning... I still wept... wept oceans of tears...for the simple heart that had once belonged to me...
ramona...
- Wednesday, February 25, 1998 at 07:06:34 (PST)
'we begin together'
inertia
- Tuesday, February 17, 1998 at 11:41:01 (PST)
Desperately seeking Derek! DEREK!!!! Where are you? Where am I? Do you still have My cabinet?
I have something for you! Sharonda!!!!! I go her number for ya! e-mail me or leave a meesage at my parents number
it is listed under Wiliam Wiggins in puyallup Wa. I miss you buddy! I hope you get this message!


Marc
Marc <Cyburn@usa.net>
- Tuesday, February 03, 1998 at 18:02:50 (PST)
the little boy stands solemnly on the shoreline... he has his favorite toy sailboat in his hands... he imagines himself the captain of the ship... watches the waves lapping at his feet... places his boat just so... and wishes, wishes for magic dragons and watches his boat sail outward towards his dreams...
dorothy
- Saturday, January 31, 1998 at 06:35:12 (PST)
... and the stone spread ripples to the distant shores
Rob <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Friday, January 30, 1998 at 14:22:16 (PST)
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said, All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them.
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom
Like a stone
Matt <Bluheron@liferaftearth.com>
- Thursday, January 29, 1998 at 21:36:22 (PST)
...once again I begin...my room was dark and monsters lived under my bed...until my eyes adjusted and I saw likehearted souls with the glow of eternity...do I really understand it all...it's doubtful that my meaning is the same as yours...but does it really matter as long as it all looks bright and promising...

hera
- Friday, January 16, 1998 at 17:38:03 (PST)
On December 18, my father passed away.
Everything looks different.
My world has changed as never before.
My emotions are very close to the surface.
I see fantastical beauty - clarity of the heart.
I see darkness, an emptiness I cannot explain.
I am so very sad, not to know.
But it is glorious to see all of you reaching out.
To eachother.
To understand.
It is glorious.
Resilient spirit.
The golden soul.
Thank-you.
I think it is love.
And to heal.
Rob
- Tuesday, January 13, 1998 at 17:38:58 (PST)
I was impressed to hear Reggie
Brown (sp?) on the news comment
on his spinal injury. The 23-year-old
athlete (football player for ? team)
nearly lost his life while playing the
game. Now, he needs toput the
same gusto he put into the NFL
into rebuilding his motor skills.
His degree of recovery is 1 in
hundreds, perhaps thousands based
on statistics. Physicality, strength,
agility, speed, brawn were everything.
Now, he'll have to give it his best shot --
in something else. He's at the beginning.
Again. But, he said something
that struck me as rather remarkable.
He said he'd rather be a
better father or son than a better
football player. He'd rather live than
play football. Most of us would, I think.
But it seems that his view
of the world also carries a sense that
he has something to do. It sounded
like he's the kind of person who
would say: "there are no accidents"
According to him, he's here for a
reason. He's got work to do.
Go, man, go.

It's true,
he must be disappointed to end
the big dream and the multi-million dollar
sports career. But, he relayed a
sense of having a flexibility of spirit
that probably all of us could use
whenever we have setbacks of our own.
It's not all over. It's perhaps just
the beginning.

Cata <relfian@aol.com>
- Tuesday, January 13, 1998 at 14:26:24 (PST)
A few Centuries ago,
I was an herbalist;
A woman who kept a pharmacopia in her head.
My value lay not in my ability to identify healing plants
as much as the knowledge of their root-sites I carried,
so that I could return in Spring and gather living, green leaves from each precious bundle.

Still nomadic,
we stored, we gathered; but never cultivated –
Fearful the little miracles that could withstand darkness and ice
would lose their power.

Wild-gathering in Nipigon led to seeing potential; both above and below soil.
You can see it right here, right now.
The golden soul you seek is within you.

Kay <For Dot: The Importance of Perennials>
- Tuesday, January 13, 1998 at 13:34:38 (PST)
I begin here...in the words... where often I get confused...this perspective that I carry interpets these strange figures in curves instead of straight defined lines... but I 'see' a familiarity... a recognization of the 'same'... the ink may be worn and discolored...tears may have blurred the definition... but it is all inside the spaces inbetween... little empty places that are not empty but full...
I was touched by this golden soul once...a long time ago... in that instant the energy flooded every element of my entire being... a gentle peacefulness engulfed me... to me this entity was an angel... and he whispered in the darkness something that has allowed me to continue on this road of hardship and humilation it seems forever... maybe it was you that he spoke these words for too...they were simple words that he spoke but they have lasted me for 22 years now... he said: "everything is going to be alright"...
ariel...
- Tuesday, January 13, 1998 at 08:25:58 (PST)
Your thoughtful words would indicate that you are a kind traveler.
I am but a weary traveler, but I think I may have seen the golden soul that
you seek. Three times. The first time was when I reached out and gently
touched the knarled hand of another. A power came through me that was the
light. It was golden and the knarled hand opened. I was afraid of the power
of the golden soul. The second time was at what seemed to be my darkest
hour. Fallen and lost, I saw no hope. But a stranger took me in from the
storm. Gave me shelter and sustenance, accepted me without judgement, and
showed me the tiny spark inside of myself that still burned, a spark that
had brought warmth and direction to others. The golden soul was there in
me and in her and with us. I was humbled by the golden soul. The third
time that I saw the golden soul was in nature. The big horn sheep stood
before me with dignity and power, the cardinal called in a repeated
plaintiff cry of beauty, and the sun danced as a thousand stars shimmering
through the leaves of the great oaks. I was inspired by the golden soul.
May you see.

I am weary. Have you seen the fountain of strength. Have you found the
energy that renews the weary heart. I care and I love and I reach out
with the strength that is left from my many battles. But
where is the path that charges my heart again...the path that renews
the spirit. Have you seen it?
Rob Hughes <robboh@worldnet.att.net>
- Sunday, January 11, 1998 at 17:55:55 (PST)
...i'm lost... can you, kind traveler show me my way... I have become afraid in the light... I lost my strength... erased in a world that claimed every piece of me...tortured me with my mistakes...questioned my openess... critized me and shunned me for honesty derived from the heart...now... afraid of the light... the darkness hides me...once a flower... cut back and feeding the bulb in a cold, hard barren ground of winter...I am unsure which way to spring my roots... I don't like the pain of it all... if by chance you could just tell me... tell me that the world isn't so dark...that there is a rainbow with a soul of gold...a soul of gold is all that I'm looking for... have you seen it?... somewhere along your road?...
dot
- Wednesday, January 07, 1998 at 07:44:43 (PST)
Such a beautiful site...some of the stories really hit home.
Tricia <Lacee1@webtv.net>
- Saturday, December 27, 1997 at 11:20:09 (PST)
for dad. "hues" I notice my skin is changing hue
as my soul lifts away and rises towards the blue.
It's true, my stay on earth is through
and I've got things to do in a better place.

I see an angel reach for me
and then it speaks to me. says "Ive come for you".

The clouds, they open up so wide.
and I realize my spirit hasn't died
it's just starting off brand new.

peace
derek
- Thursday, December 25, 1997 at 17:31:39 (PST)
...I've seen that movie too...but the movie I watched was all in 'black and white'... so I'm unclear if we were in the same theater... was that you, Ms. White, wearing the fake mink coat sitting next to the gentlemen with the 'flashers' trenchcoat...hmmm... I sat and watched all the reruns...I think you left after the first show...and I danced and danced right there on the screen as my hero just watched in awe of me... and than... the usher interrupted me...said, "excuse me, but we're closing now"...kindly escorted me toward the door... but before the door closed solid behind me, I took one last glance at the screen and saw my hero dancing...dancing with another flower... he was happy...and little 'i' was h