How is it possible to love sight unseen?
Feel the words like arms wrapped round?
And each breath mingle with what you glean
As you read each word slow and spellbound.

As it begins each time you swear you will stop
But you crave the words like an addictive drug
And you make up wild tales through teardrops
And the words call your name as you shrug.

You decide to look just one more time and sigh
As the truth begins to encircle your mind
You realize and feel captivity by your inward eye
And love has come and your heart is entwined.

All your schemes and plans to remain alone
Come tumbling down through a heart felt poem
All your sense and sensibilities have flown
For a moment's taste of love's sweet honey comb.

Now in angst and anguish you await and lie
Trying over and over again to rationalize
The path to take, to walk away or satisfy
The writhing fire within, that begins to tantalize.

There is no middle path when love enters in
There is only flame, fire, and intense desires
And the decisions to run or mentor sin
Creates your life that quenches and inspires.

You can love sight unseen
And words will connect the hearts and beam
Love's eternal and evergreen
Quest to mold and create a desirable dream


The cost will always be high
For love's price is creative souls combined
It cares not what rule or who it mortifies
Only that you make the ultimate compromise.

Dawn came early across the forest as the unseen sun shed its gentle light in rays and beams through foliage and rock. Something in the air felt different. A deep stirring within Theano seemed to be pulling her toward the large hill that descended on one side to the flowing spigot and on the other side the bowl of earth that was covered in blue flowers. As Theano often did she resisted the urge to follow. It was not her nature to just obey. Eventually she always meandered over where ever the pull took her. She would look. Sometimes it was a bevy of dancing deer, or a pile of swaying ungulates to some inner unknown rhythm, and occasionally no deer at all, but just a spot that seeped a heaviness into her soul.

She continued her drinking and bathing in the pond near the white pillars on the hill. Theano would glance up toward where the pull emanated from, but at the moment she was enthralled with the purple dragonflies that encircled her feet. She wondered from whence they came and why they chose this spot to inhabit rather than glide across the freedom of the open pond. And just as she decided she would stop her constant movement and questioning the sky intensely brightened in the direction the pull had come from. Theano sighed knowing she was going to have to leave the peace of the water that haunted her. She was such a loner. It wasn't that she did not love the others, but more the stimulation overwhelmed and clouded her mind. What Theano often sought was calmness and peace. She did not wish to hurt the other beautiful frolicking deer and wished she could be as carefree as they were. It was not her lot in life. Hers was to constantly ponder the essense of being and why it was such and why did we have to suffer so.

With a sigh and final glance at the purple dragonflies, she began the journey toward the new light. Up the embankment she slowly climbed and past the weeping willow trees that could hide you in your sadness.

As the old man lay on his bed dying
In between the silence and the sighing.
He whispered wisdom words from on High
He passed this on before he died.

Take the bitter with the sweet.
Tell the truth, forget deceit.
Love is found in our tears.
The salve that relieves our fears.

I sat and wondered before I cried,
How one so broken could mystify.
That at his passing became a wise guy,
And how the least of these save you and I.


Take the bitter with the sweet.
Tell the truth, forget deceit.
Love is found in our tears.
The salve that relieves our fears.

Matching Quote
"Every judgement of conscience, be it right or wrong, be it about things evil in themselves or morally indifferent, is obligatory, in such wise that he who acts against his conscience always sins."
-Thomas Aquinas


It is not the sins that others accuse us of that hurts us the most. It is the sins we decide we have done, not because of any written law or code, but because something deep within us says this is not right for me. The accusers outside of ourselves we can often escape from. We can leave them behind, turn them out of our thoughts, or just tune them out. Our own conscience we can never escape. During the hours of our wakefulness we can distract such thoughts. Compartmentalize them to some little used section in our minds. Or just keep so busy we can not even think about much else than the task that we are on. At night when we sleep or even if we nap during the light the thoughts creep in about our sins we named for ourselves. The things we cannot forgive our self for or the things we refuse to let go. If we compare them to others, it makes no sense because we find the amount of importance we attach to our named sins means little to the other person. It makes us feel alone because we realize the only way to resolve such a thing has to come from within our self. The other can sympathize and empathize and provide roadways and paths for us deal with our named sin, but they cannot solve it or make it go away. The worse judgement comes not from others but our self. Redemption has to come from a realization with in our self that we are more than this body, but part of something larger and more ethereal. There is no running away from self only by embracing the darkness as being inherently human do we find peace and see the dark always gives way to the light.

Maybe somewhere her fawn was here. Or maybe just an answer to what had happened. Theano did not hold out much hope and lacking any other idea what to do she decided to go back into the forest to seek shelter from the coming storm.

Theano turned and wandered back into the the ominous forest that was nearly as dark as the clouds over the bay. The storm sent out a cool breeze ahead that caressed the leaves which adult deer knew was a warning to find shelter----a small respite before the fury began. Theano was not frightened. Storms had always fascinated her. She was able to maintain calmness and peace while the forest thrashed and crashed about her. The fawn had changed that some what by making her a bit more tense as storms approached because it was no longer just about her. Theano always had managed to find shelter. She never failed to see the primitive beauty in the howling wind, rolling clouds, and pelting rain. At times it was almost cleansing.

As she continued to move through the tall trees despite the darkness the feel of the land brushing against her cinnamon fur began to feel familiar once more. The landscape morphed into the landmarks she had come to know and love in the endless forest. The large tree with its female like entrance was always a safe haven from any impending storm. As she passed the spigot like fountain where transformation occurred daily she sniffed the air and all ready sensed the cleansing had begun. Theano quickened her pace as the storm seemed to pick up speed with its breeze becoming many gusts much like an animal's breathe after a long run. The dark damp entrance beckoned her with its moisture. Theano slid into its darkness feeling safe and warm and loved. She quickly bedded down in a crevice far from any opening.

Theano stood on the hill looking across the bay as the breeze filtered through her cinnamon fur. Her nostrils flared as the salt air filled her lungs and burned slightly. Her eyes were focused on the coming summer storm. Lightning cracked across the sky like the etchings seen on the gravestones at the Ruins. Never touching the ground, the lighting played with itself on a background of ominous midnight blue gray. The coming storm matched the one occurring in her mind. She had wandered aimlessly in the birch trees trying to calm the pressure inside her head. Trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions within herself. It was an endless loop.

Last year had held such hope, such life. Theano had birthed her first fawn. The bond was the most intense she had ever felt in her short adult life. The fawn's small warm body pressed up against her gave her a peace and a comfort she had never known. The warmth made rivulets through her veins and into her heart. Not one to join the groups found in the forest, her and her fawn made their own world. Morning found them near the playground climbing the many rocks and weaving through the smooth rounded monoliths that were scattered around. The fawn seemed more an extension of herself than a separate being. Afternoons found them both grazing near the bridge and enjoying the clear cool water of the lake. Theano wished it would never end. All things have cycles. She had learned that watching the seasons pass.

Theano instinctively knew fawns do not stay fawns forever. She could not remember when she had went from fawn to adult. It seemed to happen overnight. She really did not want to think about it. Theano chose to enjoy the day as it was and not think about tomorrow. The forest had taught her no one or no thing was promised tomorrow. Deer friends came and went. Parts of the forest would change when you least expect it . Having the fawn had changed that in some way.

Repost from responding to Quad's blog on complaints and venting

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran


I am old. I have failed many times. I have watched friends die quickly before their time, and others who died by pieces. I have seen the living dead, who are only a body but who they were is gone and what is left is so dark and strange. I have had money and been unhappy, and I have had to rob Peter to pay Paul, and been happy and visa versa. I have lost a child by physical death, and lost a piece of me with her. I have lost a child who is off in the "far country" and will not speak to me for unknown reasons, and part of me is slowly dying, and watching for him to enter my front door. I have been betrayed by the love of my life, and would rather die than go through that again. That time I lost part of me, and even my sanity for a while. I have lost a job, and suffered humiliation, and loss of reputation because I could not be who I was and had to become what I am now.

Each time it is ashes, a type of death, chaos, and darkness. I struggle through, and I pray that today is the day I cease to exist in this life. And then a friend stops by, a stranger helps me on my way when I am wandering in this world, an unexpected gift arrives. a family member realizes what is going on with out me having to tell them, and I draw, sing, write, play games, and visit the endless forest. Sometimes there is no answer, no way to alleviate the pain you feel or are watching some one you love go through. Sometimes there is so many answers that you can not even hear them because of the roar they make. On a good day I live life to the fullest and enjoy the pleasure and joy that it brings, and on a bad day I accept and look to see if there is anything I can do to fix it, and if not I have learned to learn from it and just let it go. You cannot stop someone from dying.

Following the rules gets you the norm. Breaking the rules results in one of two things---trouble or your dream. Take the risk, break the rule, it is the only action that gives you a fifty percent chance of having it all your way. Mary Page aka theano

There are rules everywhere. Rules about your health. Rules about your clothes. Rules on how to parent. Rules what you do at a certain age. RULES. External ever present rules. Rules are necessary at times because they keep us safe and give us a guideline to go by. When the rules become more important than the person. When the rules hurt more than the heal. When the rules become the sin itself. The darkness descends and you wonder how this rule that is suppose be so good for us becomes the very thing that hinders us.

There are two kinds of laws---rules. There are the rules told to us, given to us by institution and others. Then there is the law or rule written in our heart. Just one rule. Only one. It is the hardest one to follow that there is because you have to see the world through the others eyes. You have to forgive them no matter what they said or have done. You can not just say it but have to live it. It takes you places you never thought you would go and it has you bond with people you never thought possible. It crosses all boundaries, all cultures, all the other rules and it is the law of love. Put it into practice and you will never be the same. Everywhere I look in the endless forest and at the forum I see it displayed in all its many ways over and over again. I wonder why it cannot be so in the world. If it happens here it should happen out there.

tactful (t?kt' f?l) adjective
Possessing the ability to point out any or all negatives, you see in a person, in a positive way. If you are good at it, the person will believe, you are giving them a compliment and ask for more. Reading this proves that in relationships, you have learned to be tactful. Otherwise, you would be taking a very long dirt nap six-foot under. Mary Page aka theano

Art and drawing is a living paradox. When a person does art in its many forms they draw from their experiences, their moods, their needs, and give it meaning and perspective according to their view of the world. As you show it to other people a relationship forms because no one is exactly like you, and no one has had the same experiences as you, and no one has a iron clad grip on the truth. We all have desires, prejudices, and preferences.

The discussion begins. What you thought you presented is interpreted differently by another. If the choice of medium is open enough the interpretations cross our walls and boundaries. It is suppose to create a conflict. It is suppose to make each side uncomfortable. It is in our uncomfortableness we finally speak our truth. In communicating through what ever form there is we begin to see the world through other eyes. There is an infallible eternal truth woven through out our experiences and world, but as humans we can approach the infinite but we never get to the end of it. Art forms in picture, music and writing make us face the multiple realities that exist in our world. We develop compassion and tolerance. We see the other point of view. We never have to agree with it, but we respect it because it is their reality and base they work, play, and speak from.

We are all born, we all suffer in this life to some degree because of our folly, we will all die. In esoteric, eternal moments art lets us transcend our truth in a container by bursting the bubble we wrap it in, and spill it out among the others.

When speaking live another day by being tactful. When writing live for the eternal by piercing with the sword of truth. Theano

We all have our ways of finding inner peace and lessening the turmoil that life hands us in buckets. The forest provides many avenues of doing this. The landscape is full of spiritual symbols from all religions. You can choose to ignore them, explore them, or meditate on your own. No matter which spot I choose the ruins look vaguely Christian and Gnostic, the playground's chakra stones, the lotus flower of Eastern thinking, the white figures on the hill , the large humming om sound tree for us druid's at heart and many more I sense the divine folly of our ways.
If I do not accept the other symbols and learn toleration I am a fool. If I insist on only one area of the forest being holy, I miss the beauty of all the others and I am a fool. If I bow down in worship to all symbols and do not choose a path, I am still a fool. No matter which line of thinking I take I am a fool in someone's eyes or perspective. We are all fools before God or gods.

Desiderus Eramus Roterodamus explored it best. His name means longing desire of the beloved in Rotterdam. In Reformation he took the middle path and right and left raged against him. Yet he prevailed by writing. His best known work was In Praise of Folly where the arguments are laid out beginning with sexuality between men and women to pointing the finger at the religious powers that be. Folly is described as a woman who in all her opinions and foolishness has a central core of wisdom and accepts the paradoxes as they are and will ever be. Once this divine womanly Folly has her say she forgets it was ever said. Maybe life, and religion or no religion is not about the rightness of our ways but about our follies. God laughs and laughs and laughs. We are the ones in our foolishness think we are anything but fools.