robertkennedy – Page 6 – Arc Of The Hawk

November 2, 2017November 10, 2017

KNOWING

There is very little that we truly know, and even less that we understand. What we know is all we have. Understanding is all we can hope for. Before knowing and understanding, there is warmth – a fire in each of us that we graciously share.

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July 1, 2017July 1, 2017

HE WHO WIELDS THE KNIFE

What can you say to a son who aspires to care for others, especially when those others are least able to care for themselves? Eventually, all of us run out of options. Then, we are left with one choice – to submit and entrust the outcome to another. When the circumstances involve risks to our most precious possession, our life; a threshold of intimacy is crossed that a relative few practitioners of medicine experience.

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August 10, 2017May 23, 2021

STORIED LANDSCAPE

Grand vistas are seductive. They fill our plates with more than we can imagine and take us to the horizon. But vistas come in different sizes. Those that are less grand may surprise us with their ability to tell a story that we have always known . . . but never listened to.

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August 10, 2017May 23, 2021

STORIED LANDSCAPE

Life funnels . . . to a point

One edge begins, while the opposite ends.

Corn rows and snowy rivers.

One small step for man . . . and a pond is made.

What holds us back is only temporary.

Nature’s laws are written in the branches of trees.

More often than not, the center is source.

Allies lie down together.

The story of the sun is everywhere.

Who said, beauty is only skin deep?

Leaf, what forces put you here, and why now?

Nature speaks. Will you listen?

Hope springs eternal.

Many seasons are known by a few.

The story of the ocean has only a beginning.

July 26, 2017November 30, 2022

THE SONORAN DESERT

The desert bows to the sun and endures. Without an abundance of moisture, change comes slowly and stays long. Within each of us, there is a desert that will remain when we are gone.

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July 11, 2017October 30, 2021

THE GRAND CANYON

Ravens watch over the canyon, in exchange for near effortless flight.

The lost horizon is a fair trade for the intimacy that canyons provide.

A canyon is a book, each page turned by the sun moving through the day.

Far from the canyon wall, there’s a river delta that was born of the canyon.

To know a canyon is to know the ever changing wind.

Those waters that are deep, but not still; they are the sculptor of canyons.

The canyon has two parents. If one is light, the other is dark. If one is resilient, the other is fragile. Canyons are born of opposing forces.

The Grand Canyon, like a mountain turned upside down, is home to all seasons.

Ask the canyon, “Where have you been?” The answer is always, “Here”.

Has it ever been more true than in a canyon? The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Like the shapes of clouds, canyons let loose the imagination.

The canyon is a desert – gone underground.

Some might argue that the best way to view the canyon is sideways.

If mountains are the spine of the continent, canyons are the soul, created from the book of time.