I have just found Alicia Bay Laurels web site. I have tag it to our
home. I have pointed arrows in her direction. I have told friends where
to look.
Now I read words, her daily chats about old and new friends along the
path that she has paved. The careful way she walks on this planet. She
stops and sits and lives each day, meeting the world, telling the world
about our planet.
Some thing that I did find out recently is how far behind Kentucky is,
so far behind in the world of caring for the planet. I live fifteen
years behind the times. It is as if I live on an island far from the
caring world.
Find her web site and read, you will become one being filled with care.
She lives in the swirl of color. She speaks of early bohemia. What I
remember of bohemia are the dark black coffee houses along the beaches
of Huntington, Newport, Tin Can and Seal Beaches.
I have to go to work, see you soon. Speak freely, there is no cost.
Reading Alicia Bay Laurels web site gives me great insight into the way
of life of an author, maybe some insight into the upper middle class
folks that she meets along her journeys.
Kentucky is a long way behind into the attitudes of giving, living a
dream and the lifestyle described in her writings.
This is poor state with plenty of targets on animals.

Green damp lawns mowed, cars park on an asphalt lot, birds singing in a
partly cloudy sky. Rusty outbuildings are standing with junk.
Pleasant emotions are here. The cats taking a bath, the day is new and
cleansed, it rained.
As I droved home last night in a thunderstorm, the wind lashed, the rain
fell, green leaves blew across the black asphalt road. I drove twenty
mph in the storm. It was a little uncomfortable, I'm thankful to be
A big potato bug looks at me. We spoke and I said how I envy you. You
are so round and plump, fleshy.

When we all speak in unison, fine glitter moves about our being. Some of
us sing, some of us speak, some of us write, some of us paint. Some of
us labor with love. Some of us learn to speak again. When we all speak
together we gather friendship and patterns of thought. Our mosaic is
indeed fine. Again we must say that we have aged rather well. Light has
brightened the night. I am reading what the angel says.
Like round drops of water, pure and clean, we cleanse and brighten the

I am reading more about the enchanting lady as she steps forward among
the beautiful people.
Rain drops.
Rain drops from the clouds, raindrops clear and clean, raindrops gather
dust as they fall to the earth. We know that each drop is different,
just as we know that each one of us is different.
Sparkling clean our earth appears after the rains of last night.
The potato bug rises from the earth, ugly to us, we shiver at the way it
looks. We want to walk away, turn our backs and forget that it exists. I
have not seen one for over fifty years, I did not want to see one now,
but I knew that they were. I looked and found a meaning on line, they
were as ugly as I had thought. It has to take its place among the
beautiful creatures of earth. I am not to decide about its fate or turn
my back when it arrives in my garden.
When angels swirl above our heads in our dreams. We only see them as
angelic, not limping with stubbles of beards. Why is that? Who washed
the dust and scrubbed the cheeks until they were rosy? Where are the
angels that look like demons? In hell? God forbid!!
Our world is truly distorted.
Laurel and I step forward. We walk this earth. Equal in the eyes of
lifes mysteries. I step forward arrogant and proud, I guard my peace, I
proclaim that peace dwells around this aura of life. I decide to be at
peace. I step forward a peaceful creature and speak of beauty.
Kentucky is into having possessions. Most of these folks my age grew up
on farms with only a small school education at the end of a dusty road.
Intelligent but poor, was the norm in the fifties and sixties. Now all
the roads are paved, the schools have been centralized and people are
building four bathroom homes that cost  $150,000.00. Those that cannot
afford these homes park doublewide trailers on old home places.
The middle class children go off to school or work in other parts of the
country. They do not return, some return when they retire.
On Thanksgiving the men go hunting and come home for the dinner. That is
the norm.
These people are hunters.
What can inspire? What can inspire a person to just see normal behavior
as something outstanding and genuine? When I look out the same window
day after day, what could inspire one being to wonder? The same greens
and grays that were seen as a child, paint a subtle different picture
today. I can complicate the matter by placing a glass before my eyes,
half full, half empty. Whatever reason I still see. Moment by moment
subtle changes before us reflect / interact an emotion.
I stop by and visit the online Morningstar friends. I go about my daily
work schedule and they go about theirs. I reflect on what is available
online, always happy to see lines of words tapped on the Most or their
web sites. When someone says hello or says hello again it brings joy
into being.
We truly live in the present.
The beauty is there to behold.
Burgundy veins move into a deep green. There is new growth on a three-year-old tree that I walk by everyday. New life is seeking the warmth of the sun. A new leaf, a refreshing existence seeking life. The beauty of a being that is new, seeking an existence.
I acknowledge its being.
The beauty is there to behold.
Speaking the same language, people share the same emotions about living on this earth.
Each passing day we see something before our eyes that we want to share with the world.
Sometimes it is something as simple as a new leaf seeking life or
reading about other beings that share your emotions about
the beauty that is before our eyes as we step forward on our paths.
There is something that we have learned that is unique and simple.
I am starting to read again.
Reading had been putting me to sleep.
I read what Ramon and Pam wrote about Morningstar.
I decided to write about the person that is out of place, out of mind and a little upset with the world for being their scapegoat.
I was writing thinking that I would put the world in itís proper prospective for the young minds of tomorrow.
What I was writing about has already been said by other beings.
I voiced my opinion and spoke of what the world did to my mind.
I am starting to read again.
Reading is putting new ideas into memory.

Just a Visit
To Be At Peace

Words & Graphics by Tomas