Use your life

......to teach others

............and in so doing

.................you bless and are blessed.

Haiku Moment
By Don Iannone

Deep lavender fields
sweet as only the soul knows
intoxicating beauty

Haiku Moment
By Don Iannone

Solitary boat
adrift uncharted water
only choice is trust

Haiku Moment
By Don Iannone

Desert oasis
rejuvenation at hand
your journey can rest

Disappearing Footprints in the Sand
By Don Iannone

They don't last
...our fragile footprints in the sand.
Even the most elegant impressions succumb
...to the unrelenting waves.
We shouldn't worry
...that we leave nothing behind.
We need no proof
...that we were here.
The only lasting impressions
...are those left in the heart.

Pray in whatever you can for Jim's Granddaughter and Family

Click here for the details.

Small Things We Do
By Don Iannone

A simple smile
can bring
a burst of sunshine
in life's darkest hour.

A hearty laugh
can chase away
evil dragons lurking
under the bed.

Ever so small
words of kindness
can melt
a frozen tundra of anger.

The gentle touch
of a loving hand
can set
the heart ablaze.

The knowing wink
of an eye
can cause trust
to re-enter a room.

Small things
we do
can change
the world.

Check Your Buddhist Astrology

Visit the Snow Lion Publications website.
Gives you a starting idea of where you stand on a monthly basis.

What are your thoughts about astrology? On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being highly reliable, how you rate astrological readings as a source of personal and spiritual insight?

Click here to see how Science's How Stuff Works website describes astrology.

I am One
By Don Iannone

I am one with the sun, moon and stars,
whose vastness makes me feel small and insignificant.
I am one with the flowers, birds and trees,
whose beauty erupts all about me in spring.
I am one with the deer and coyote
playing hide and seek in the forest behind us,
whose instinct outmatches all thinking.
I am one with the gentle wind--
lifting my spirits above the clouds
to where there is always light.
I am one with all sound--
both audible and beyond
creating music in my heart.
I am one with all notions of the divine,
including those denying my ability
to be one with all, and all with One.
I am one with with all sentient beings,
whose happiness and pain
are my happiness and pain.
I am one with all--
beyond whatever seeks to separate
because ultimately there is only...One.

"There is no question of going anywhere, arriving anywhere, or doing anything; you are there already."

--Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj (Who lives in Dan Shimp, in me, and in you!)

The Buddha's World

Beyond Words












Photo Credit: Kathe Kowalski, Edinboro, PA, Rural Poverty












Photo Credit: WPA Photo Collection











Phot0 Credit: Canadian Government Photos

Catharsis One May Morning
By Don Iannone

Go beyond the place with words--
that overlived, life-denying abyss
you'll never fill.
Give up the venal odyssey
you call your life
that is just its opposite.
Slip past the counterfeit personality
you wear like a wild cat
in a two-size-too-small wedding dress.
There is nothing to lose
or to gain
since there's nothing there in the first place.
Surrender all you have
which is nothing
to that which comes
before the hunger
you feed between dreams.
Give yourself over
to the emptiness
that must swallow you whole
to end the empty chatter
leaving you nothing
but chatterless emptiness.
Even these words:
more poetic nonsense
pointless guide dogs
causing you to lose your way.
They can't save you from yourself.
Only you can do that.

Photo Credit: NASA

Non-Me...Non-You
Why are you so unhappy?
Why are we so unhappy?
Because everything you do
and 99 percent of what you think
is for yourself.
And there isn’t one.

—Wu Wei, 12th Century

Virtuous Practice

"The Jewel in the Crown Sutra states, "Donning the armor of loving-kindness, while abiding in the state of great compassion, practice meditative stabilization that actualizes the emptiness possessing the best of all qualities. What is the emptiness possessing the best of all qualities? It is that which is not divorced from generosity, ethics, patience, effort, meditative stabilization, wisdom, or skillful means." Bodhisattvas must rely on virtuous practices like generosity as means to thoroughly ripen all sentient beings and in order to perfect the place, body, and manifold retinue." Source: Stages of Meditation by Kamalashila

Beyond the Flame's Illumination
By Don Iannone

Still wonder
...inside you
......like an eternal flame
.........focusing your being
.............on its boundarylessness
.................stretched far beyond
....................the flame's illumination.

God
By Don Iannone

Beyond whatever
...we think.
Not separate from us.
Everything and nothing.
An ever-present idea
...that we cling to.

Belief.net on the Priory of Sion

"The historic Priory of Sion, properly called the Prieure du Notre Dame de Sion, was a religious community founded in Jerusalem in 1099, immediately after the First Crusade. (It had no special relationship with the Knights Templar.) After their church was destroyed during a Muslim attack in 1219, the priests of the Priory withdrew to Sicily. In 1617 they joined the Jesuits and disappeared.

Nevertheless, the Priory still flourishes in fantasy. According to theories popularized in "Holy Blood, Holy Grail" by Michael Biagent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln (1982), a book heavily mined by Dan Brown for "The Da Vinci Code," the Priory had a hidden mission--guarding the secret bloodline descended from Jesus and Mary Magdalene. According to this legend, Jesus' lineage, passed through the Merovingian dynasty of France and the crusader Geoffrey of Bouillon, still exists.

The idea of a still-existing Priory with a shocking secret was, in fact, invented by a convicted French conman named Pierre Plantard on the model of a 19th-century esoteric society, the Order of the Rose-Croix of the Temple of the Grail. The only modern Priory of Sion was a short-lived club registered by Plantard in 1956.

But Plantard and his accomplices later fabricated false documentation for the Priory, which claimed to have enrolled thousands of important people throughout the world under Grand Master Plantard, heir to the holy blood and the throne of France. These claims wilted under investigation, including a debunking by BBC in 1992. A French court forced Plantard to admit his hoax under oath in 1993."

Read More...Link: http://priory-of-sion.com/

Dancing with Peace
By Don Iannone

Off in the distance
...beyond...where you can imagine
...lies peace--
wrapped naked
...in her own beauty.
She awaits
...you
...and all others
...brave enough
...to clasp her
...about the waist
...and gently dance with her
into the night.

Photo credit: Daning Woman
by Elisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, 1792

A Gathering of Old Trees
By Don Iannone

Old trees gather in the woods.
At first, I think in horror
that it is a nursing home for dead wood,
a place where the trees come to die.
Then, I see the gathering
as a roadside rest area,
where the trees catch their breath
as they make their long journey
back to the earth they never left.

Their roots anchor and steady them
so they grow outward and upward
throughout their lives.
Their many branches balance them
like out-stretched arms in the wind.
Now gnarled and barren,
the branches speak volumes
about the trees' many lives.
So much karma, I think.

Each branch is a miraculous
adventure in search of light.
While each tiny twig has
followed a different path,
all eventually point upward.
Each knows exactly what
it must do to survive.
I wonder if the trees miss their leaves,
like old men miss their hair.
I smile as I imagine the trees with toupees.

It occurs to me that each old tree is a planet
in the larger forest galaxy.
Suddenly I see the forest for the trees.
While more fragile now,
the old trees are quite stately.
There is a weathered handsomeness
about the old trees.
Most have aged gracefully,
like refined old women
whose eyes still sparkle
at the sight of handsome young men.

I hear playful laughter in the distance.
It is the younger trees,
who joyously reach out
and pluck ripe sundrops from the sky.
Their laughter reminds the old trees
that their lives were, after all, worthwhile.
They know there will be a tomorrow.

Old trees are very wise, you know.
So much they have learned
through the many seasons of their lives.
Their bark, branches and roots
are vast libraries preserving their wisdom,
which the wind passes on through the trees' seeds
to future generations.

For now, the young trees across the way
are too busy growing to see
the wisdom filling their limbs.
That's ok, for someday they will
join the gathering of old trees.
Then they will have plenty of time
to reflect upon their lives.

The old trees teach me to stand tall,
branch out to find the sunshine in my life,
use my roots to grow from, and do the best
I can from my place in life everyday.
I am thankful for the gathering of old trees.
Someday I hope to join them.

Mystical Possibilities
By Don Iannone

Time within
...time without.
Calling me in
...calling me out.
Mystically real
...whether here or there.
Hear his song--
St. John of the Cross.

Light-filled canticles
...bred among snapdragons
...under an azure Spanish sky.
Hands filled with sunlight
...mixed with sanguine possibilities.
Reaching out--
not just to me
...but to all.
Like butterflies
...dancing on tiptoes
...lighter than air.

Slipping away
...like truth parsed by words.
We carry the Holy candle
...in our heart
...but a short distance.
Her flame flickers on
...as another bears her load.
Fret not time is short.
We are one--
those before, and
those who follow.
Time within
...time without.
Calling me in
...calling me out.

The Mysterious Red Rose
By Don Iannone

On an apple crisp spring morning
...my mind can but cling
...to the single red rose given me
...in that numinous dream
...just a very few short years ago.
How strange, that
a lovely young dark-haired woman
...without warning
...should place in my trembling hand
...but a single, blood red rose
...spilling velvet mystery on my soul.
Secrecy, silence, and yes...undying love
...but for what?
Just one seductive rose
...whose thorns I pluck
...like breathless moments
...from the womb of time
...but should never underestimate
...because she lives forever.
Her nectareous scent walks me down
ancient paths, terribly long ago
...far out of reach
of the circling hands upon my watch
that knows far more
than it will ever tell.
Virgin Mary, not I, for
her purity too great for me.
St. Francis of Assisi, not I
...but I, like him
...overtaken by a vision
...on my way to Spoleto.
Just a simple rose.
Such thoughts she conjures
...as I awaken from my dream--
only to find a single red rose
...resting in the outstretched arms
of the scarlet oak tree
standing tall waiting for me.

The DaVinci Code Movie

Fascinating movie. Was it an all-time great? No. Was it entertaining? Vastly so. My bottomline on the movie? It's a long way from Ron Howard's maiden voyage on Mayberry RFD!

What did I like best about the movie? Most definitely the story behind the movie, and of course the book as well. Like I so often do, I read the reviews after I see the movie. Why let a bunch of numbnuts critics spoil the movie for you?

I like what Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, two very credible reviewers of spiritual books, movies, and musical productions, had to say about the movie: "Opens the door for many spiritual seekers to think afresh about Jesus, sexuality, the Sacred Feminine and the great mysteries that cannot be contained in dogmas." Read their full review here. Also, take a moment to explore some of the Brussat's other reviews and research here.

What does Opus Dei have to say about the movie? Click here. Want to know more about the Knights Templar? Click here. Want to know more about the Holy Blood and the Holy Grail? Click here.

By the way, did you catch the part in the movie and book about Sir Issac Newton and the conflict that ensued between the Church and Science as a result of his discoveries? Get a taste of it here.

Bottom line? My Dad used this expression often when I was a young boy: "The bigger they are, the harder they fall." That is pretty much the way I feel not only about the significance of the DaVinci Code for Catholics and other "brands" of Christians, but people in general who cling too much to their religiosity. Perhaps someone should write a book called "The Dark Secrets of the Holy" that looks at what is hiding in the closets of all world religions. Probably too much for a book, but it might make a great blog!

Interested in related information about the story behind the book and the movie? Check out the bibliography below, which comes from Dan Brown's website, the book author.

Bibliography for The DaVinci Code

The History of the Knights Templars
--Charles G. Addison

Rosslyn: Guardians of the Secret of the Holy Grail
--Tim Wallace-Murphy & Marilyn Hopkins

The Woman With The Alabaster Jar: Mary Magdalene and the Holy Grail
--Margaret Starbird

The Templar Revelation: Secret Guardians of the True Identity of Christ
--Lynn Picknett & Clive Prince

The Goddess in the Gospels: Reclaiming the Sacred Feminine
--Margaret Starbird

Holy Blood, Holy Grail.
--Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, Henry Lincoln

The Search for the Holy Grail and the Precious Blood
--Deike Begg

The Messianic Legacy
--Michael Baigent

The Knights Templar and their Myth
--Peter Partner

The Dead Sea Bible. The Oldest Known Bible
--Martin G. Abegg

The Dead Sea Deception
--Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh

The Nag Hammadi Library in English
--James M. Robinson

Jesus and the Lost Goddess: The Secret Teachings of the Original Christians
--Timothy Freke, Peter Gandy

When God was a Woman
--Merlin Stone

The Chalice and the Blade. Our History, our Future
--Riane Eisler

Born in Blood
--John J. Robinson

The Malleus Maleficarum
--Heinrich Kramer & James Sprenger

The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci
--Leonardo da Vinci

Prophecies
--Leonardo da Vinci

Leonardo da Vinci: Scientist, Inventor, Artist
--Otto Letze

Leonardo: The Artist and the Man
--Serge Bramly, Sian Reynolds

Their Kingdom Come: Inside the secret world of Opus Dei
--Robert A. Hutchison

Beyond the Threshold: A Life in Opus Dei
--Maria Del Carmen Tapia

The Pope's Armada: Unlocking the Secrets of Mysterious and Powerful New Sects in the Church --Gordon Urguhart

Opus Dei: An Investigation into the Secret Society Struggling for Power Within the Roman Catholic Church
--Michael Walsh

I. M. Pei: A Profile in American Architecture
--Carter Wiseman

Conversations With I. M. Pei: Light Is the Key
--Gero Von Boehm

Finding Sun On Unblazed Trails
By Don Iannone

Turn
toward the sun
that beats
hard
upon the darkness
casting smoke-like shadows
and blurred realities
on all who walk
unblazed trails
in search of truth.

The dark night of the soul
By Loreena McKennitt

Upon a darkened night
the flame of love was burning in my breast
And by a lantern bright
I fled my house while all in quiet rest

Shrouded by the night
and by the secret stair I quickly fled
The veil concealed my eyes
while all within lay quiet as the dead

Chorus
Oh night thou was my guide
oh night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
to the beloved one
transforming each of them into the other

Upon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart

That fire t'was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come

Chorus
Within my pounding heart
which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
beneath the cedars all my love I gave
And by the fortress walls
the wind would brush his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
caressed my every sense it would allow

Chorus
I lost myself to him
and laid my face upon my lovers breast
And care and grief grew dim
as in the mornings mist became the light
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair

Photo: St. John of the Cross (Click and learn more about the wonderful poet seer.)

McKennitt writes in the CD booklet about this song:

May, 1993 - Stratford ... have been reading through the poetry of 15th century Spain, and I find myself drawn to one by the mystic writer and visionary St. John of the Cross; the untitled work is an exquisite, richly metaphoric love poem between himself and his god. It could pass as a love poem between any two at any time ... His approach seems more akin to early Islamic or Judaic works in its more direct route to communication to his god ... I have gone over three different translations of the poem, and am struck by how much a translation can alter our interpretation. Am reminded that most holy scriptures come to us in translation, resulting in a diversity of views.

And thanks to Jos van Geffen for calling my attention to the connection between this Loreena McKennitt song and St. John of the Cross' poetry. Thanks Jos.

When Sunlight Falters
By Don Iannone

Walking
...lost
...and alone
...in a long waking dream.
No way...or where...to fly
...like the desparate half-melt snowflakes
...seconds before they end it all
and turn back...into water.
Lugging...wherever we go...empty canteens
...save one last drop...of hope
...carrying us
a few steps...beyond
...to where the road ends
...and where new possibilities are born.
Sordid...out of place fantasies...dancing
in the long dark shadows
...poking their way through the dying sun.
Pray to your god...of self-understanding
...for fresh sunlight, for
the old sun is dying.
Its rancid breath--
we can no longer stand .
Pray an end to the relentness pounding
of heavy hearts, bearing witness
to what must come
...and doesn't know its way.
Pray that the faltering sun
doesn't lose its way for long.

I Am That and So Are You
By Don Iannone

See
...with your inner eye
...transcending all you know.
Observe...carefully
...the details
...of what you see.
Feel it
...with your heart.
Become...one
...with what you observe.
Listen to the voice
...inside
...that says softly "I am."
That is you.
I am That, and
you are also That.

Raining Still
By Don Iannone

It's raining...still
but my heart throbs
sunshine bright.
It's raining...still
grateful tears of joy
fall all over me.
It's raining...still
listen
with your heart's ear.
Hear this song written
just for you
flowing like a river
through all who hear--
its steady torrential call.
It's raining...still
don't wish for anything--
different.
Don't even try.
Let it rain...still, and
break the code of silence
hovering all about
choking on its own loneliness.
Wash away all doubt.
Empty taciturn clouds
with the rain...still
falling
all over you.

On the Christian Way
By Don Iannone

Too much separation
...causing us to lose
...forever
...essential parts of ourselves.
Too many concepts
...that divide
...and conquer
...who we really are.
Too much blood...spilled, and
too much hate
...from those who claim to love.
Too much blind adherence
...to rules and promises
...just like all other rules and promises.
Too many tormented souls
...longing for release
...from their clinging
...to self-made truths
...masquerading as Divine words.
Too much unfaithfulness
...from the faithful followers
...who can't convince themselves
...so they prey (pray) on others, hoping
to make themselves believe.
Must there be a Christ
...separate, in any way, from God
...and a God separate, in any way
...from any of us?
Must we cower
...like lost and aimless sheep
...only to be slaughtered
...by our own illusions?
Heaven
...but a faint promise
...because we live in Hell.
Hell
...merely a bad dream
...forcing us to believe
...there must be a Heaven.
God
...but a bad excuse
...for ignoring the paper thin reality
...that we just are, and nothing more.
Satan
...the fallen angel
...only the opposing archetype
to our concept of a goody two shoes God.
Christ
...a once living and breathing mystic
...like each of us
...seeking his true nature
...and finally finding
...just as you too can discover--
that love is the answer.
God is you
...and you are God.
That will never change
...no matter what you believe.
Do as Christ did: start your own church, but
realize it's just your church
...where you can find your heart
...and where your heart can find you.
Rejoice in having found your way
...and bask in the glory of your own being.

May Showers
By Don Iannone

Fresh rain
...innocent as a baby's smile.
Falling
...like feathers of a dove
...from the sky.
Drumming drops
...lull me to sleep, where dreams
of a sweet sunny cloverfield
fill my head.
Fresh rain
...purifying crystals
...holding the future
...tell stories
...remaining secrets no more.

Rainy Monday in Cleveland
By Don Iannone

Heavy gray Cleveland skies
cry rain and gloom
on all those trapped
in this nidus of shyness and angst
hovering south of the lake
we abused for years
with our lives of waste
mired in sewage, soot, and shame.
Hearts full, and
searching for hope
upon this droopy rainy Monday
ruining a perfect May opportunity
for sunshine and virgin greenness.
Blame it on your god
however you imagine your luminosity
or slip away to that special place
where you buried some sunshine
to get you through rainy Mondays.

3:54 AM
By Don Iannone

Spring rain
...falls steady
......upon the roof
.........beating sense
............into me.
It's nightime.
A determined raccoon
...the bandit he is
......finds his way
.........onto the squirrel-proof feeder.
It bends
...under his weight
......no longer able
.........to bear the inevitable.
I feel its sigh
...as the night bends my heart
......and as a steady spring rain
beats sense into me.

Poetry and Economic Development Find Me

I never set out to be an economic developer. I never set out to be a poet. Really I never set out to be anything, but both economic development and poetry found their way into my life.

Click here to read more.

Imagining Life
By Don Iannone

Images
...old as life itself.
Snapshots
...of feelings
...racing through us
...faster than light.
Stills
...but momentary glimpses
...of what's there
...and disappears
...before the artist even lifts his brush
...from the still wet canvas.
Images
...just tiny reflecting pools
...where we can almost see ourselves
...if we look quickly.
Once I even saw the man
...behind the camera
...but he was gone
...in the blink of an eye.
All
...picture reality
...in whatever light appears
...for as long as it lasts.
Imagine that.

Memories of Puerto Penasco
By Don Iannone

Flashback.
1970.
Puerto Penasco, Mexico.
Early summer morning.
A soft orange sun
climbs slowly
a morphing blue sky.
The gentle lulling breeze sucks me
into the warm salty water.
All that separates seeps away
like the sand between my toes,
leaving me naked
of all pretense.
There is no resistance left
in any part of me
or anything else.
Floating
on a cloud,
the water carries me far away
to a place needing no name.
There I rest
at the break of dawn,
overflowing with life.

The Ancient
By Don Iannone

What's ancient runs deep
...echoing through time
and anything we think we know.
Somewhere
...buried out of reach
...in our deepest place
...the ancient lives
...in me and you.
Sharing the path
...leading us here
...and back--
to where we never left.
Like the mysterious star
we see each night
...that always disappears
...when we look at it too hard
...the ancient eludes us.
We saw the ghost last night.
Not directly though
...like ordinary things we see.
It followed us
...along the dark banks of the river.
We smelled it.
Like pungent fresh turned earth.
Ripe.
Fertile.
Ready.
We heard its drum
...beating like a heavy heart.
It's calling--
maybe us.
Definitely someone.
It must be time.
Someone must go.

Remembering Mom
By Don Iannone

Mom
...a magical word we utter
...even before our first step.
Mom
...a comforting hand
...reaching out to us
...when we stumble.
Mom
...the reassuring smile we need
...when things don't go our way.
Mom
...the glow we feel
...deep in our heart
...even when she's not there.

Taking a Missed Flight Too Seriously
By Don Iannone

Missed flight.
Needless fretting
...about wanting reality to be
...something other than what it is.
How much does it matter
...that my plane is not on time?
How much say should the clock
really have on my life?
Fretting and time just
...make us forget
...who we really are.
They just cause us to stumble
...through the same trap door
...we always fall through
...when we want things
...to be other than what they are.
Beware
...the mind plays tricks on us
...through its many trap doors
...leading nowhere
...other than where we are.
What difference does a missed flight
...really make
...in the larger scheme of things?
After all
...the biggest missed opportunity in life
...is thinking
...there was something
...to miss in the first place.

Awakening
By Don Iannone

Early morning sky.
Filled
...with burning expectation.
Eager
...like a young child
...wanting to please
...but also wanting to be free.
Moving...me
...upward
...like the sun
...into the sky, and beyond.
Sunlight
...shimmering
...on still dark water.
Awakening me
...from the inside out.
Off I soar
...a lone bird
...against the rising sun.

Divine
By Don Iannone

Go...with what speaks to you
...deep
...inside your heart.
Go with the image of the Divine
that enables you
...to transcend you.
Don't trouble yourself
with getting it right, because
there is no right
...other than what sparks a passion
...within you for others.

The Open Window
By Don Iannone
Wide open
...inviting us
to see much deeper
inside ourselves.
Wide open
full hearts
...like windows
to our souls
...beg our eyes to see
...beyond
...what we usually see
...and see
...what is...yet
to be discovered.

My Teachers this Quarter
University of Philosophical Research




Amit Goswami, Ph.D.
Professor, Physics
University of Oregon
Course: Science and Spirituality








Dr. Lionel Corbett, M.D.
Professor, Depth Psychology
Pacifica Graduate Institute
Course: A New Myth of God







David Bresler, Ph.D.
Professor, UCLA School of Medicine
Head, Center for Pain Management
Course: Consciousness and Creative Communications

Souls Drifting into Focus
By Don Iannone

Souls never alone, but
...quietly beautiful
as billowy clouds
...drifting
...across a sea of blue
sky...filled with possibilities
...ripe as fresh strawberries
...coming to realize
it is their time.

Conscious Living Wordcloud
Dan Shimp set me on to this.
Create your own here.

No Me Without All Else
By Don Iannone
Photo Credit: Snibbe
(Click on image to see it)

Sometimes I like to think
that I exist
independent of other things.
Sometimes I want to believe
there is a permanent me
that always is.
Sometimes I am amazed
at how the world constantly changes
and makes me abandon
my fixed view of who I am.
Sometimes I get so caught up
in my own world of thought
that I forget
there is nothing to remember, and
that I am nothing
in the absence of all else.

Episodic Spring
By Don Iannone

Lemon daffodils give way to perky scarlet tulips
...while green leafy bunches of joy sprout
everywhere on sleepy naked trees awakening
from their winter hibernation.
The cardinals know
...even without thinking
a new beginning has begun
...creating a sudden chance for magic
to seize hearts empty too long of celebration.
A robin egg blue sky rains buttery sundrops
...like those we can only imagine
during January snowfalls--so heavy
their thud startles the lone dove who lost her mate
to the mulling red-tailed hawk late last fall.
Spring is the artist
...painting from her heart
on the incomplete canvas of life
...reminding us to loosen our grip just enough
...to be moved by the sweet breeze
sweeping new life upon all of us.

Reflections on Kent State
By Don Iannone

Thirty-six years ago
...something tragic occurred
...on a, compared to most,
tame college campus.

Four young people died
...during this time before their time
...on a tame college campus
in northeast Ohio.

It shouldn't have happen
...anywhere
...but especially on a tame college campus
in northeast Ohio.

Why not Berkeley
...Columbia
...Michigan
or Antioch in Ohio?

Neil Young's words ring in my ears
...like gunshots in the distance
...chasing faded memories
...of battlefields in Vietnam and Ohio.

The tulips are in bloom now
...pushing their way toward the sun
...like young people struggling
to be heard and loved.

Everything has changed
...but nothing has changed.
Look around for yourself.
Why don't we ever learn?

This isn't about sentimentality
...reminiscing about the good ole days
...or just feeling sorry.
It's about now.

Look around for yourself.
What do you see?
Every face a reflection.
May fourth, northeast Ohio.

A Note Left In Jimmy Leonard's Shack
By James Wright

Near the dry river's water-mark we found
Your brother Minnegan,
Flopped like a fish against the muddy ground.
Beany, the kid whose yellow hair turns green,
Told me to find you, even if the rain,
And tell you he was drowned.
I hid behind the chassis on the bank,
The wreck of someone's Ford:
I was afraid to come and wake you drunk:
You told me once the waking up was hard,
The daylight beating at you like a board.
Blood in my stomach sank.
Beside, you told him never to go out
Along the river-side
Drinking and singing, clattering about.
You might have thrown a rock at me and cried
I was to blame, I let him fall in the road
And pitch down on his side.
Well, I'll get hell enough when I get home
For coming up this far,
Leaving the note, and running as I came.
I'll go and tell my father where you are.
You'd better go find Minnegan before
Policemen hear and come.
Beany went home, and I got sick and ran,
You old son of a bitch.
You better hurry down to Minnegan;
He's drunk or dying now, I don't know which,
Rolled in the roots and garbage like a fish,
The poor old man.

Four Dead in Ohio
Kent State University
May 4, 1970

Ohio
By Neil Young

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are gunning us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are gunning us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Seeing Clearly
By Don Iannone
What we see
...when we really look
...is more beautiful
...than when we use our eyes
...to simply judge.
What we see
...when we open our heart
...to ordinary things
...is better than
...the most magnificent sunset
...anywhere.
Open your heart and eyes
...and clearly see!

Photographs of old abandoned houses on Third Street in Martins Ferry, Ohio

How We Are
Reflections from Martins Ferry
By Don Iannone

Wanting
...something better
...than what you have.
Having
...already
...something better
...than you ever knew.
Searching
...always
...for whatever you don't have.
Only to find
...what you have
...is right for you.

Back to Martins Ferry
By Don Iannone
with Dan Shimp

It's good to remember
who we are.
It's good to return
as best we can
to places in time
that are now
but mere memories.
It's good to walk
the streets we walked
when much younger.
It's good to talk
with friends we played
when much younger.
It's good to return
to the place you came
with a friend
you never really left behind.

Roads We Climb
By Don Iannone
with Dan Shimp

Returning to where we came from
...we discover
that not all roads in hometown Martins Ferry
...are we ready to climb.
Some we try
...and discover
...we can't find traction
...and must go back
...to where we started.
Like that one steep gravel road
...we tried our best to drive up
...but found we just couldn't.
Some places we'll never see
...at least for now
...and maybe
...we were not supposed to
...in the first place.
Other roads await us.
These are the roads
we must climb.
These are the roads
always meant for us.