If your mind were a compass, a curious thing,
Would it spin toward old stories with a sorrowful ring? Would it point toward the past with a dramatic insist, Crying, “Look what they did!” with a clenched fist?

What is this thing called happy, my friend?
Does it start with a wish—or come near the end?
Is it chickens in pots? Or cars shining bright?
A Mercedes at dusk with the headlights just right?

Step right up to the Game of Your Life—
Not the mild sort, not the lukewarm-lite.
No, this is theBIG one,the bold neon swirl,
Where you spin the dial and design your whole world.
Guess who’s in charge of it all? Surprise! It’s YOU!
You’re the boss, the head honcho, the whole kangaroo…

So, how is your cash flowing, my dear friend?
Will your dollars last ’til your very end?
You’re not all alone in worry’s tight hold—
About life or bills, with money so bold!

When tempers are flaring and hearts start to burn,It’s time for the people of Earth to return.To reason and kindness, to listening hearts,To knowing that healing is how peace will start. In India’s villages, France’s proud streets.And Israel’s markets where sorrows repeat.To Pakistan’s valleys where heartache runs deep,Our neighbors need courage to wake from their […]

In the realm of your being, where thoughts dance and play,Lies the secret to health in a curious way.For your mind and your body are partners, you see,What one may believe, the other will be. When illness comes knocking, don’t tremble or hide,It’s a whisper within you, a teacher inside.It says, “Dearest traveler, something’s amiss,Look […]

Have you pondered, dear one, what comes after goodbye? What waits in the wings when it’s your time to fly? If you’re over sixty, or older than that, No doubt you’ve posed questions in many a chat.You’ve been to funerals, more recent this year,And now you wonder, through memories and tears: What’s next for me? […]

The world is a canvas, wide open and new,
And the paintbrush, dear friends, is inside of you.
Each thought that you think, each feeling you send,
Loops back around, for there is no true end…