Eyes on beauty; Sweet, obliging death.

I breathe in darkness,
I breathe out light.
I step toward destruction,
bleed willingly,
and smile.
Great adversary,
come now toward me.
I have been waiting,
patiently to die.
To then be reborn,
as the vision in my eye.

The Gentle Man does not fear death, but knows it as a necessary, and beautiful, part of life. All of life is dying.
All but spirit, who resides in the bartizans of eternity, is a momentary flicker, destined to puff out and fade back to nothing.

The Gentle Man watches as the sun is born each day and then dies.
He watches again as the moon does the same of its monthly cycle – gently waxing and waning with his woman.
He watches once more as the apple falls from the tree, thuds at the earth below and slowly rots – encasing the seed, now sunk into the earth, with the nutrients necessary for new life.

With the sun, the moon, and the apple, the Gentle Man dies.

He knows no fear. For fear is a liar. Fear is a thief. Fear knows nothing.

And through each death, the Gentle Man experiences more and more of life.
Gracefully, and consciously he walks through each of his lives, this and the next.
Eyes on beauty.
Sweet, obliging death.

Artwork by Julien Mauve-Headlan


The tree outside my house has stood patiently, in one spot, for maybe 50 years or more. Roots deeply entrenched into the ground, he knows that all will come. After 50 years of stillness and everything he needs being delivered to his feet, he has no reason to believe otherwise. I, however, am not 50, and I have little tried and can attest to the level of patience exhibited by my loyal and sturdy friend. So I am erratic, and get delivered very little.

Nature has many lessons to show us if we would only look and see.

Is there anything as erratic as I with the might of a stationary tree? I think not..

I watch the avocados being ripened by the engine of nature.. becoming plump and black. When the time is right for dropping, they do so, all as if to the tick of some universal clock, heeding only to divine timing. Ahh, so patience, and stillness grew the mighty oak and timing delivered the perfected fruit to the earth below. What might applying these virtues bring me?

Quitting is fear, I’m told. It is not the business of the warrior. It is not in his domain.

He stays. He transforms. Unaffected by this circumstance or the next – all that surrounds him comes to perfect fruition in the fields of his stillness and by the nourishment of his patience.

Undeterred by outcome and always properly situated, he completes. The warrior then allows the next step to present itself, graciously accepts (or rejects) and humbly stays or steps away. He is weatherproof.

Artwork by Mikael Aldo