I Have News For You

Facebook and I have parted ways. This may turn out to be my life’s crowning achievement. One of the positive results of this: more posts on my blog.


Photo by Charolette Stoehr


There are people who do not see a broken playground swing
as a symbol of ruined childhood

and there are people who don’t interpret the behavior
of a fly in a motel room as a mocking representation of their thought

There are people who don’t walk past an empty swimming pool
and think about past pleasures unrecoverable

and then stand there blocking the sidewalk for other pedestrians.
I have read about a town somewhere in California where human beings

do not send their sinuous feeder roots
deep into the potting soil of others’ emotional lives

as if they were greedy six-year-olds
sucking the last half-inch of milkshake up through a noisy straw;

Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon?
There are some people, unlike me and you,

who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as
unattainable as that moon;
thus, they do not later
have to waste more time
defaming the object of their former ardor.

Or consequently run and crucify themselves
in some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha.

I have news for you—
there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room

and open a window to let the sweet breeze in
and let it touch them all over their faces and bodies.

by Tony Hoagland

A Photo Book on Pompeii

I visited Pompeii in November. I took a lot of photos but I didn’t feel that any of them ever captured the feelings of the place or what happened there. It was an overcast day when we went and it matched the surrounding ruins perfectly. I haven’t been able to shake the feelings that it generated in me even now. I just made a photo book of photos I took in Pompeii along with poems about the people and devastation of losing an entire city. It was and still is a tragedy for all time. It has changed me. If you are interested in the book…click on the link at the top.

Addendum: 100% of the profits generated from the book sales will be donated to The Great Pompeii Project. A preservation project developed by the Italian government to save the ruins, art and history of Pompeii. Much of it is crumbling away and lost forever to us. Please consider purchasing the book as a donation to this project. 

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Post Italy

It has been busy and painfully stagnant since returning from Siena. The reverse culture shock continues to surprise me, like the near melt down in Fred Meyers (grocery store). We had moved in to our new apartment and went to stock up on groceries. It was the first big shopping trip since returning from Italy and I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelm. Too many products, too many shelves, too many options and choices. I just wanted to leave the cart in the aisle and leave. I didn’t and we got home with groceries.

I have been busy with online classes this term and the isolation is getting to me, but then I also want to isolate at times. It is a strange thing right now. I am beginning a yoga class next week. That should help in several ways.  It is a strange kind of let down after walking so much everyday to and from school in Siena. Now I must work at getting enough movement and it is definitely a challenge. The social invitations have begun to come in and I missed that part of life. I was lonely in Italy and missed my friends a great deal. I missed socializing with all the banter, laughter and discussion. I am looking forward to more of that!

Setting up a photography portfolio and writing on my book…thinking of publishing a photo book on my final project which was a photo book of Pompeii with poems by me. I have so many projects and that together with school is the busy part. It is a lot of sitting on the computer, editing, and writing…this seems stagnant to me after awhile. I will find the balance or it will find me…for now, I am here and listening.


The view from our house in Siena, Italy one foggy morning.



What is reflected back to us is rarely seen for what it really is but rather a reflection of our own visions.


I see in you what is also in me. I see the vision of my spirit in the waves, the colors, the wings of a butterfly.


The sky becomes the sea and the lines blur between above and below, in between somewhere I float without boundaries, just color and light, mist and rays.


We are all one reflection of life. Live love and move through the spirit of one.

Dead Leaves


The void is too little with us; punctual and later,

giving and saving, we store up our powers for

all we see in darkness that defies us.

We have taken our hearts back- a joyful gift!

This sky that covers her heart to the sun-

the winds that are still, do not run

and are scattered now like waking seeds.

For this, for all, we are in sync; It moves us so!

Great Goddess, I’d rather be

every one of these dead, unknown to me.

Charolette Stoehr

Oh Mother Moon!


Photo Moon Gate by Tone Aanderaa

Oh, Mother Moon

Oh mother moon, we slither from your womb writhing in your radiant light.

The glow clings to our skin; our fur wet as a newborn seal.

In cycles we are reborn over and over, one with the rhythm of the ocean tides.

But the calendars of men are Poor copyrights as they hold up their tiny fists,

clenched around paper grown in your essence; in a world rotated at your speed.

Yet as we dry and find our feet, our memory of birth fades

and your rhythm becomes something of fairy tales in bedtime stories,

to be read to children and fools who still seek beginnings.

Because to remember would be a harsh reminder that we have wandered

outside ourselves too far and become lost to the light of creation.

But you keep rising and swelling and giving birth

to multitudes of tiny clinched fists

because not to, would be the end of the story.