My Funeral

wrecksWednesday, I went to the funeral, of a friend, who died suddenly, from a heart attack. He was 45. The chapel was small, and filled with friends. Every seat was taken, and some were standing in the back and up the side aisles.

I wondered, if I died, who would be at my funeral?  Numerous images came to mind. First – No one. Then, maybe a few friends from the Amelia Room, a social club that I have belonged to, through the years. They would be gathered at a spot by the beach, spreading my ashes in the wind. Surely, some of my surf buddies would be in attendance. And maybe some brothers and sisters, from my church, would say a few prayers. “I don’t know”.  I just don’t know, how all of that would happen. First you die, and then the word spreads. Hopefully, they don’t plan my service, where I have to compete with a football game, or an epic swell. But, really, it wouldn’t matter, because I would be dead. Continue reading My Funeral


IMG_1893fffGod always gives me everything that I need. The questions is ~ am I willing to receive it?

Grace is a theological term that describes~ blessing that come from above, regardless of merit.

I always knew that God was the answer. But something kept me apart. That something was self. Continue reading Grace

Born Abstract

100_1138-shs2I WAS BORN ABSTRACT

in shades of grey

no sunshine – nor joy – no days to play

I was smothered by concrete

borders-boundries and rules


I was given the tools.

Colors sprang forth

Trees grew and bent

I laughed and I cried

I travelled and went.

To the land of the abstract

where I belong

filled with the spirit

singing my song.

Where the lilies bloom

No toil ~ No gloom

Follow your bliss, Miss


* This painting is part of a mural, on my water tank, in Playa Avellanas, Costa Rica. It is the Rabbit Hole. I dream of having a special kind of surf camp there.


100_2312-1shsbI last wrote on March 2nd….It’s now March 13th.

In that interim, I have been in MINDFUL contemplation.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

This is the first line of the Desiderata, a prose poem that was written in 1927 by Max Erhmann. I first became particularly, interested in these words when I asked a dear friend, “How did you deal with it all?”. The question was in reference to our teenage years. Upon reply, she told me, she had memorized the Desiderata and used it as a guide. It reminded her, that she is as important as the stars in the sky.

I have never forgotten her words. And although I don’t have the poem memorized in full, I do know the first line.

It’s been good for me to be silent and BREATH.

The world keeps spinning at a high velocity, and I don’t feel in any danger of flying off the face of the planet. The same force that draws the tide of the ocean, and holds me on the ground rules my personal world.

That force is God.

May you be with Him now!

Back to the Future

IMG_6876shsbWho am I? Where am I ?

I pose these questions, laughing to myself. I am back in Florida, sitting in my comfortable bungalow, my pied a terre. My surroundings are similar, yet contrasting, to where I was, in my Costa Rican casita.

I also laugh, because these were the philosophical curiosities that, at one time, dominated my life, and seemingly separated me from others.

Everyone else appeared to be on the treadmill of life, heading in a direction, that I had no map for.

Through my own mental processes I became as “existential as a roadside chicken”.

Conflict is at the root of good writing ~ man against man ~ man against nature ~ man against himself. First there is a problem, to be followed by resolution. Writing mimics life.

Since I last wrote , I decided to not have conflict: to not think, only to breath.

I feel as if I have surfed time. It’s March 2nd, 2013 8:45.

There is no problem.

Nothing I could have said or done, in the time since I have last written, would have been a better solution than merely breathing.