Posted in dance, Homemade Video, music, Photography, Poetry, Soul Journal, Theatre

Drum Circle

A new experience presented itself within a community to celebrate positive energy. This was most of the group’s first time being together. The hour started with rhythmic drum beats mimicking the heart’s life force.

There were 15 of us, each with a drum and another percussion instrument. This video is the third of four sets, each naturally lasting between 12-13 minutes. The group leaders did little to manipulate each interval of creative expression. They flowed as swiftly and gently, or vigorously and bountifully, as the Nashua River, deep in the Valley of Oxbow.

As the hour progressed, a golden hue encompassed us. We said farewell to the sun. Then to each other. Look forward to another drum circle September 12.

drifting dragonfly
heartfully-winged escapade
soaring fantasies

Mantled Baskettail
Posted in Homemade Video, Musings, Poetry


What is life if we seek and never enjoy what we find? 

Stopped by the woods
just yesterday,
saw the world in a fairy’s teacup,
twirled in the forgiving sky.

Love, the wind whispers
showers words of gratitude
and I wonder, as I leave the shallows
how I’ll keep my cup full,
relish the river’s peace.

Posted in Homemade Video, quotes, travel

Spirited Time

Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love! ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie

There was a hypnotic freezing coursing through the air. At the top of the stairs, faint music and mumbled voices brought many a stranger a Christmas wish for what most civil beings long; love!

I gathered with others to watch the ice skaters. I felt a bit intrusive taking the video but eager to capture the pleasure of a heart warming moment, so I continued, in hopes a Chicago Christmas spirit burns throughout 2017.

Christmas morning lasts as long as any other morning; time never lasts long enough. The climax of this holiday spirit, from Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve has settled in. The faces gathered around the cheer have faded. The warmth turned frigid. The precious moments never last long enough. I must say it is tears of sadness I shed and with a bitter thought I soil my mind.

Posted in Homemade Video, Poetry, travel

Candy Cane Lane

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.


Daughter is lead chair in high school,  warming the group for December 8, 2016 concert.



Ring the bells
light the tree
sing a song of JOY.
The dark is nigh
the lighted sky
a way to lead the day.

Candy Cane Lane, Milwaukee WI

The Spirit of Christmas is for the young at heart. Driving the streets of Milwaukee, WI, Friday evening, a joyful spirit delivered warmth to a rather dark and cold winter evening. On Oklahoma Avenue, between 92nd and 96th Street is “Candy Cane Lane”. Houses are decorated to the hilt with lights and an innate belief in the spirit of Joy.

May your home be blessed in all matters. Your heart at rest in the world.

From our home to yours, Merry Christmas, J


Posted in Homemade Video, Poetry


Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

“Don’t worry about me!”
her child’s favorite line.

“Oh! so far away!”
mother kisses goodbye.

Adoration dissipates
stars to tell time
morning song promises
Grace piping chimes.

***Ahhhhh….peaceful morning. I need help identifying the bird in this video taken in June on Monhegan Island, ME.

Posted in Homemade Video, Photography, Poetry, travel

Big Red

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Holland Harbor South Pierhead Lighthouse, 1907. The gabled roof is a Dutch influence of the area. The lighthouse is affectionately known as “Big Red” and was rescued from demolition in the 1970’s by the Holland Harbor Lighthouse Historical Commission. 

Posted in Homemade Video, Memoir

My promise garden

Eight years my garden stood still, from grief i retreated. It slowly comes alive. The last of the migrating monarchs are passing by, fueling for their rigorous journey. I dare say they never give up. They maneuver obstacles but never give in, unless life is taken away. Great lessons to learn. My heartaches when i consider the lilies of the field and birds of the air, i miss dear ones. I started my promise garden long ago, in memory of my grandfather, his love of the land. Generations of family learned to grow tobacco, a Native American passed down tradition. Our family housed Black Hawk, the night before his massacre. Legends in our family, of late, has been tragedy. Two suicides; grandfather and brother.

I push on in tears and pain and trembling. Never again. I will not put more sorrow into the air. We all need to breathe. Be well, J