Kate Lamberg Center for Natural Healing and Creative Arts~

The act of writing remains a wonder. How we find time, space, and focus to channel words becomes our freedom. Our poems are our blessings, transcending opinions, those locked in beliefs on how the world is suppose to look or sound like. Breathing up new paradigms. Peace!!!!!! peach melba sky in the east sweetens the tar black night--replete with nightmares  of watching water rising....  a flood in the valley, feet frozen in outmoded dress- facing fear head on... like a deer staring at the headlights of a car, stopped for a moment driver's hazel eyes locked in... a trance with the deer's jeweled eyes... closing in on autumn-- hazelnuts and mulberries freely fall... on metal, asphalt and the soft shoulders of country roads driver in no hurry to get to destination allows deer to steer the conversation- into lengthening life as she knows it cooperating with other live beings-- within this changing leaf color season... surviving to see how each color pressed on w...

she loves to wake up to feeling the undulent waves beneath her yogic spine, mimicking the sea waters' symphony...  connecting endless summer days together,  like long airy necklaces breathing each day up with the openness of a toddler-- shrieking  to echo a new sea bird's song...  in early morning--when the day leaps ahead of baby steps- birthing the sweet soft cushion  of strawberries- -bridging memories, with what is spiraling-- in swings and see- saws so early, the air is loaded with promises-- how she follows the sounds--like a star hurtling through infinite blue jay skies

a bright golden sunflower, and two long stemmed red roses float on the eastern shore of the lake-- colors of both flowers intact-- act as bright spots, atop the bottle green waters... the cerulean blue sky and spanking bright white gigantic clouds drop into lake's surface... providing an earthy palette inviting all who look-- to linger a little longer, feeling slightly stronger peace, culled from the simplest things: above, sea gulls softly sing... soothing all that stings

walking, high tide, earth-bound...  saltwater sounds of evening--  restores a kind faith

by the time we got to Haight- Ashbury, the hippies were no longer visible on the streets-- they were laying low in flower fields and tree-houses... it was 1968, and being twelve, I was focused on buying a pewter peace medallion, a Patchouli scented Indian wrap around skirt,and dancing my own kind of modern.. holding visions to live like a hippie, sip herbal celestial seasonings tea, walk barefoot, in harmony... over wildflower fields... letting love and peace be the only philosophy that would travel through my blood stream for the rest of my time on earth... we stepped out of the hippie shop to witness-- a man running from the cops, blood on the streets, a crowd screaming in an uproar-- salt in the wounds of a twelve-year old-- whose peace seeking has never stopped

When two monarch butterflies circle around me twice in a given day, I feel so blessed! Surely this path is the choice- less choice my soul has been seeking. No choice but to let go--of people, places, and things that have no interest in soul's awakening. I would rather be walking by my self happily, in this wisdom, than being with egoic self-serving individuals, whose only interests are power over others and the almighty dollar. Beginning to feel the natural peace, which arrives without striving. Blessings bubble up through my heart and mind. Awakening from dreaming, on this path of choiceless choice.❣

thunder and lightening act to wake up-- restore a passive universe living for self only... opening eyes to the needs of other groping souls... who want exactly what any one wants-- to be heard and cherished-- exactly how they are-- nothing fancy-- just peaceful paradigms unfolding, like ancient texts, understood... a universal language- a love for all people revealing restoration-- at every step on bluestone path-- in the aftermath of storm's unconscious bullying... trees dance as grandparent messages... so soft and kind-- reminding us of no differences internally; we fight because we think we might win another round of, "I know better"-- there's a sweeter way of learning about one another, than bullying-- just because your voice is louder, heartless in heart you once knew-- but you grew a thick protective veneer over all four compartments-- to keep you safe from arrows hurled... also keeping you from feeling....