Projection is
The Reflection
Of your Imperfection
And self Protection
By using Rejection
Instead of Introspection
Thus avoiding Correction

Vali Hawkins Mitchell©2012

It’s not just the nuclear holocausts that we worry about!
It’s the Little Wars that wear us down,
The fights and feuds,
The conflicts and sorrows,
Today’s and tomorrow’s
Of never-ending non-resolves
That fatigue and tire,
Bog and mire
Us down in emotions
Too frequent to bear
That lead to despair.

Our battlefields are:
Worksites
Bodies
Children
Relationships
Aging
Money
Marriage

And the Weapons of Mass Destruction are:
Despair
Loneliness
Isolation
Antagonism
Righteousness
Hopelessness
Grief
Fear
Errors
Anger
Longing
Yearning
Wanting
Giving up
Surrenders
Suspicions
Attacks
Terrors

Finding Peace is all we ask.
Making Peace is a daily task.

© From Dr. Vali’s Book: Emotional Terrors in the Workplace: Protecting your Business’ Bottom Line (Rothstein.com)

Bridges ur meant tae be crossed Ah ken,
Send a postcard, will ye hen?
I’m singin’ a travelin’ sang fur ye,
There’s naethin’ left fur ye haur.

Shared moments ur jist ‘at ye see
Ain naethin’ mair they brin’,
Ain travelin’ angels ken th’ truth
As they donner wi’ us they sin’,

Fiddley Oh, fiddley oh, fiddley dee I oh
Peace be untae ye they sin’
Fiddley day I oh
Fiddley Oh, fiddley oh, fiddley dee I oh
Peace be untae ye I sin’
Fiddley day I oh

“Why bother to explain yourself to a breeze, when it is the ocean that listens?
Why elaborate on the flame when it burns away all evidence of itself?
If the winter designs the spring without discussion, and
The summer designs the fall in silent gratitude, why keep notes?
If tomorrow doesn’t ask how many bare feet are waiting to feel the warm earth, and
The mountain doesn’t question the snow, is there a point to your query?

The mystic remembered lilacs and smiled at his folly.

We climbed up a crumbling mountain path
to stand by a glacier today.
The blue ice had the colors of
A Hawaiian sea and the rushing
melt-off sounded like the ocean.
Although the Artic cold pinched my cheeks red,
And the rock shards cut at my new boots,
I stood in the bigger silence and
felt the familiar foreverness that instantly heals me whole.

Vali Hawkins Mitchell 9/19/11

Oh Alaska. I found you.
You were too big to fit in my eyes and too silent to fit in my heart.
This morning, I forgave someone and my vision and spirit opened a bit wider, wide enough to get a glimpse of you.

I stood on a mountaintop and saw the Big One shimmering
between the green horizon and the dark rain bank.
Where other pilgrims below me were taking photos and chattering like birds
In the presence of an old lady tossing seeds on the street,
I was gifted with silence, vastness, so alone and present, that I felt
Why the trees had been so quiet, the clover so wee voiced, and
Wind so still.
A small pine whispered the secret, “We wait for the snow, the Goddess of
The North, and have no aspirations of our own here. We serve her and are in silent prayer waiting her arrival.”
I sang to her soon-to-be coming and the wind winked at me in passing like an usher going through the choir with a collection bowl.

Forgive the broken when their raw edges nudge your own open wounds and scars. Take as example the small twig I found as a teacher, perfect, with one tiny cracked limb. It wasn’t a martyr. I held it in my hand and it moved gently in the breeze with the same rhythm as the ocean.

It now resides on my altar.
As do you.

vali hawkins mitchell 9/5/11

Pacific Northwest!!!
I’ve missed you!
I fall on the fragrant warm grass.
As the sun heats my back, my belly seeks the Mother of my childhood.
I plead to be remembered and offer up a sacred song with holy sticks, but too long gone I have forgotten the lyrics.
Sweet sibling wind hums though the pine trees directing me back to the lilac path, and I’m forgiven for my tedious excursions.
I pat the heads of cousins, fern, rhody, holly, dandelion and clover. Squirrel offers a familiar tree leap to startle me, bee hovers at eye level to check my iris ID, and I drench Mother’s arms with tears of homecoming gratitude. The walkabout always calls, so I invite them along. They all grab their cold weather togs and pack up to head to Alaska with me!
Hoorah! A Road trip with my family of origin.

8/5/11

Take your bucket of courage to the deeper well.
If all you have is a cup then that will do.
And if you have a thimble size of bravery
It’s enough, enough to get you through.
It’s enough to get you through.

At the well get down upon your knees
See the abyss as sacred chance
To offer up your gift at the edge of the deep,
Then sweetly back away to dance!
Then sweetly….back away…to dance.

©Vali Hawkins Mitchell

It’s a miniature rudder. Just moving the little trim tab builds a low pressure that pulls the rudder around. Takes almost no effort at all. So I said that the little individual can be a trimtab.

Society thinks it’s going right by you, that it’s left you altogether. But if you’re doing dynamic things mentally, the fact is that you can just put your foot out like that and the whole big ship of state is going to go.

So I said, call me Trimtab.” – R. Buckminster Fuller

©valihawkinsmitchell