A Writer’s Night

Many nights I am awoken
Sentences formulating
Gathering mysteriously as clouds expand with the mists
Pathways for explorations…
So unlike the days not so long ago
When I strove for the light
Cloistered with boxes of 3 X 5 cards
Aghast at my own stagnation
But I persisted…I persisted…
With a faith that was not a faith
But only a yearning and an intention…

Why my psyche concorded
To attend with its consciousnesses
To arouse me with conversations
Inspired by nocturnal travels
Will probably be not known.

Yet I now journey and play in worlds
Deeply integrated with
Mind, heart and spirit.

This is the only world within which
I wish to live…
For you see, I am an artist…..
Flourishing within the mysteries.


Easter Island statues moon star sky


Marveling at the Marvelous in Costa Rica

A small Brown and Yellow Tree Snake
Curls in a settle of contentment
At our house entry
A share of sanctuary

The baby Agouti snuzzles on our doormat
A softness for its resting
While sweet Bats hang on casa eaves
Shifting in wing-spreads
With sun’s light journeys
Entangled among jungle Zeniths

A leaf stem parts….
Its succumbing time
Its waltz with death
From impossible pinnacles
The fall transforms into flight
The waft and whirl
Akin to the gliding of a butterfly
Yes, for its arboreal lifetime, studied
But never imagined such liberation

And as the leaflet falls
In its last paragon of grace
The ever vigilant Fairy Folk
Of the Forest
Metamorphise it into a cocoon
We know, we know….
One such truss hangs upon our plastered wall

A tiny Frog shelters beneath shoes
Tipped to ward off scorpions
Or other such arachnids

We are the intruders here
But as we grow vines in our hair
And howl to the clamorous upheavals of
Storms of thunder and lightening
We marvel at the moon’s phosphorescence
Spotlit upon the walking trees
Not quite rooted, and thus
Awakening them to motion…….

The Goddess grows ever nearer

The Goddess Approaches


To my darling, Lori…

What is my relationship to Lori? Spiritual advisor, landscape designer, friend….meatloaf recipe provider….we have run an idiosyncratic course spanning many years.

I met Lori at a Nicotine Anonymous meeting.  Lori wanted to quit smoking, but could not, and so there she was, quite puzzled by her inability to quit smoking cigarettes.  As she explained her life to me later, Lori did not sit in meetings like this, she ran them…but like me, she could not use her customary bag of trick to overcome her addiction to smoking, and so there she was, attentive and listening.

We began working together on the 12 steps and what occurred for Lori was that her life took on the core of the 12 steps and the orientation of her life became spiritual. Lori’s soul is elitist in the best sense of the concept — her soul recognizes supreme truth, love, beauty and honor, kindness. Yes, Lori quit smoking, but that was not all that she did. She completely changed her life and gravitated to a spiritual existence. Lori soared and she continues to soar like a comet toward the infinite. She is the embodiment of selflessness; she is appreciative. But even more than that, Lori’s spirit sings because of a gratitude, absolute.

Now gratitude is not easy, especially in the struggle she has had to endure. And yet, Lori embraced gratitude with her whole heart and soul. And it spilled over into the world, to everyone she knew. Yes, Lori, even in the darkness threatening to encompass her, can jump onto a hobby horse and ride with great joy and delight, singing songs to the planet. In a difficult day filled with pain, Lori will remember it is your birthday…..

Lori’s ‘little girl’ is one of her most prominent manifestations. I was so fortunate to have been very often in her delightful company. I encountered Lori’s ‘little girl’ the day we rode our bikes against a strong headwind.  Lori, her helmet falling back off of her head, reverted to 6 years of age, racing against the wind, her face set with determination and the willfulness only seen in a six-year-old.  How could one resist falling head over heels in love with this girl with all of her complexities of beauty, intelligence and profundity?

Lori Altschuler is also the embodiment of kindness and acceptance of flaws in other humans. She is the gentlest and the most patient of souls. I know, because she was so patient with me when I had my turn at stumbling….

Time passed.  Lori visited my house one day and saw my garden. She asked me if I would give her some gardening tips. And so our life began in a new direction. Flowers and herbs and fountains and pots and what fun we had together making that garden. Fuschias, alstromeria of all colors of the rainbow, butterfly bushes, roses on arbors and tendrils of blue clematis on her picket fence.

Lori fence clematis

Lori loved and loves her garden with all of her heart. And Lori’s little girl was always most present in the garden with her green plastic clogs, her immaculate garden gloves and her clippers. She would attack any plant daring to go wayward with a great and childlike conviction!!!

When I learned of Lori’s cancer, I immediately went into prayer and meditation.  One day, a very powerful and booming energy arose.  I heard the words clear as day.  I will never forget them.  “She will have a very difficult time, but she will not die from this.”  This occurred almost a decade ago. And thus far, the road has been very difficult, and so far she is still here with us.  I still await the miracle promised.

cropped Lori in garden

In the meanwhile in spite of chemo, in spite of operations, never has Lori been absent with her overwhelming generosity. Everyone knows this about this dear girl.  Yes, I too have been showered with so many beautiful things and so many blessings from her, but oh how she supports those endeavors most important to me. At my first book signing, to support me, she hostessed the refreshment table, greeting and welcoming everyone with her beautiful smile. She was not only there at my second book signing, but helped me to publish the book with her understanding and supportive heart.

And did I mention her cooking? And her flower arranging? Delectable and scrumptious on all counts. She is accomplished in all of the arts. And she is successful on all fronts.

But Lori Altschuler is most knowledgeable in the profound and integrative meanings of life, of illness and yes, even of death. I adore and cherish Lori…much love from Laura


The Gopher

I see a furry head
It does not know I am here
My Mother taught me stealth
In the forests…
A valuable tool to see creatures
And to woo my soul’s emergence.



Big Sur Skies

The gray morn whispers to my soul
A serenity
A promise
Perhaps a poem today….

The light has cleared a breach,
A  blue patch
And presses to vie with the clouds
In a chase.

Oh, yes, I welcome a transition to warmth
But am mindful of  the mountains
And their creatures
The scorch to verdancy
As the long burn of summer approaches.

The fog hastens to close up the patch
The mists have won!


Foggy vista Pacific Valley



Two geckos
One a translucent clarity of brown
Herman I name him
The other teeny, black tailless
Both killing machines

The Salt Lake City Police gunned down another kid today
Probably African American
While Herman does not seem to mind that a black gecko
Has moved into his neighborhood



Salvia in Big Sur

What are the purple salvias doing here
At the ocean rim
Amongst the thorn
Of berry bush?
A lusciousness of nurtured plant of tame gardens
Visiting the wild
And mingling without self-conscious gaze
By either plant.

Salvia and beach
Would it not be wonderful
If those people of color
Could mingle thus with those
Of non-color
In the human world?


The Fogs of Big Sur

It is not so much a mist
But a presence of cloud
To moisten lush hills of spring verdance

Ribbon of fog mountain
Fogs nurtured by the sea’s announcement
To the land
This march unrelenting
Stirred by a great Hand
Each wave a perfection
To itself
Before succumbing to foam

Today the tourists look down from their precipices
Of cliff and then leave
Arms wrapped about them for warmth
Not knowing much about meditation
The importance of the fogs to
Henry Miller and the poets
Nor the location of friendly benches

Bench overlooking beach


Threads of Gold

Following the pattern imprinted upon her grand corpulence
An Orb spider spins her web
Gleamed to golden patinas
By tropical lumina

And those insects snared
Within such opulent threads
Do they stuggle less
Be Dazzled by a casket of such gild?

Golden Orb Web
Much like the rich man
Who lies dying
On sheets woven from the finest silk
Festooned with jewels and pearls

Then too
Is his own death less of a struggle?



Poem 12/11/2015

In blue

I search for Lori
For Stella
And Mom, Dad and Pat
Where the heck is Bill?

Such tangibles of personality and being
With their dreams and jobs
But now adrift like the clouds

They are ensconced within star and dust
In an enternity of infinity

OK, meanwhile
Malignancies at Solyluna
Manifest not
They are not allowed

And I dare not really speak of it.