Monday, December 31, 2018

Naked Wisdom 42 / Respect

ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛᎨᏍᏙᏗ ᎧᏁᎢᏍᏗ ᏂᎦᏛ ᎦᏬᏂᎯᏍᎩ ᎭᏫᎾ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎪᎯᏳᎯ.
ᏴᏫ, ᎠᏂᏏᏴᏫᎭᏗ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ ᎠᏰᎵ ᏗᏜ, ᏰᎵᏉ ᎯᏁᎩ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎨᏳᏓᏎ ᏂᎯᏁ,
ᎠᏎᏃ ᎤᎾᏤᎵ ᎠᎵᏖᎸᏗᏗ ᎧᏃᎮᏙᏎ ᏂᎯ ᏗᏜ ᎢᏳᏃ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎪᎯᏳᎭᏎ ᏂᎯᏁ.
ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎬᎵᏱᎵᏒ-ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎲ ᎠᎵᏍᎦᏍᏙᏙᏎ ᎪᎯᏳᎯ ᎬᏩᎣ ᏗᏜ ᎾᎿ
ᎠᎴ ᏐᎢ ᏗᏜ.

The most important word in any language is respect.
People, from individuals to the state, may say they love you,
but their actions will tell you whether they respect you.
Our survival will depend on respect for nature
and for each other.






ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 42 / ᎪᎯᏳᎯ

ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛᎨᏍᏙᏗ ᎧᏁᎢᏍᏗ ᏂᎦᏛ ᎦᏬᏂᎯᏍᎩ ᎭᏫᎾ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎪᎯᏳᎯ.
ᏴᏫ, ᎠᏂᏏᏴᏫᎭᏗ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ ᎠᏰᎵ ᏗᏜ, ᏰᎵᏉ ᎯᏁᎩ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎨᏳᏓᏎ ᏂᎯᏁ,
ᎠᏎᏃ ᎤᎾᏤᎵ ᎠᎵᏖᎸᏗᏗ ᎧᏃᎮᏙᏎ ᏂᎯ ᏗᏜ ᎢᏳᏃ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎪᎯᏳᎭᏎ ᏂᎯᏁ.
ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎬᎵᏱᎵᏒ-ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎲ ᎠᎵᏍᎦᏍᏙᏙᏎ ᎪᎯᏳᎯ ᎬᏩᎣ ᏗᏜ ᎾᎿ
ᎠᎴ ᏐᎢ ᏗᏜ.






Sunday, December 30, 2018

I'm quite amazed. It only took eleven days for this poetry blog to go from 51,000 to 52,000 visits. Last time, it took fourteen days to add a thousand visits. The pace seems to be picking up, which is probably a good sign.

This blog is quite diverse, so if there is something you particularly like and would like to see more often, please let me know in a comment. The Muse wanders where she will, and I just sort of tag along.

Thank you all for your interest, kind words, and enthusiasm. I wish you all a happy and healthy new year.






Photo: Fergus McCarthy

Naked Wisdom 41 (translation)

ᎭᏢ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎥᎴᏂᏙᎲ,
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏚᎩ.
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎥᎴᏂᏙᎲ,
ᎠᎴ ᎢᏧᎳ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏚᎩ.

Where there is life,
there is hope.
We are life,
and we are hope.






On this Summer Evening

On this summer evening
I am one with my environment,
neither superior to it
nor inferior,
and full of hope.







Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler.

uyelvha agadohvsdi 41 / ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 41

ᎭᏢ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎥᎴᏂᏙᎲ,
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏚᎩ.
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎥᎴᏂᏙᎲ,
ᎠᎴ ᎢᏧᎳ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏚᎩ.






His Number is Zero

His number is zero,
he's not a hero.
This Tarot-trump Fool
is Putin's broken tool.








[Gleefully placed into the public domain.]

Humpty Dump

Humpty Dump
bet on a wall.
Humpty Dump
took a big fall.
All Putin's money
and all Satan's men
couldn't put Humpty
together again.


[I happily direct this piece of doggerel back into the public domain from which it sprang.]

Saturday, December 29, 2018

The Illustrations

I hope the influence of Mr. Jameson will not prevent me from doing justice to this rather deserving subject.

My poems and their illustrations are very closely related. In more than a few cases, the image was actually the inspiration for the text. Sometimes, of course, it's the other way around, but they are always related.

The first thing I would like to do is get the nudity thing out of the way. I am a reincarnationist (if that is a word--my spell-checker doesn't seem to think so). Because of this, I write from a realm not bound by time or space. How can I put myself in period costumes? The truest me is the unclothed one, which is also the most universal.

There, that wasn't so hard.

Some of you will have noticed an evolution in the photographic techniques involved in making my photographs. I've been an avid photographer for nearly fifty years, but things are different now. I can, to put it succinctly, do things that I could never have done before. I used to spend hours in the darkroom, and my work was meticulous and painstaking. Now, though, I have control that in those days I never had.

I am primarily a black-and-white photographer, as I always was. It is what I love. I shoot digital, in color, and in most cases I immediately the best pictures to black-and-white, gray-scale images. Because the response curve of a photocell is not the same as film or the human eye, I use software to increase the  contrast, and then adjust the brightness to produce the kind of image I want. The result is a correct, gray-scale image, adjusted to my taste.

Lately, though, I put those "correct, gray-scale images" through an ultra-high-contrast process, to essentially convert them to something close to line art or a woodcut. The software gives me exquisite control, allowing me to get many different effects.

The advantages of this high-contrast process are many. First of all, since the images are similar to line art, they do not need to be half-toned for printing. This will be important if I ever want to produce a book (which I think I do).

The process also presents a quantum leap in the possibilities for self-expression, obviously of tremendous importance.

Lastly, the process can be used to protect my modesty (as if I had much of that!) and get the images past Facebook's censors.

The bottom line is that you're likely to see a whole lot more of those extremely-high-contrast images in this blog. I hope that you'll like them.






Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler.




 

ᏏᏉᏯ-ᎪᏪᎳᏅᎯ (translation)

ᏏᏉᏯ-ᎪᏪᎳᏅᎯ
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏐᏴ ᎾᎿ.
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎤᎭᏎ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒᏁ.

Sequoyah-handwriting
is on the wall.
We have a future.





(school)

Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler

ᏏᏉᏯ-ᎪᏪᎳᏅᎯ

ᏏᏉᏯ-ᎪᏪᎳᏅᎯ
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏐᏴ ᎾᎿ.
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎤᎭᏎ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒᏁ.






Naked Wisdom 40 (translation)

ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎠᎾᏓᏅᏟ,
ᏴᏫ Ꮎ ᎠᏗᏍᎦᎶᏗᏎ
ᎤᎵᏍᏛ ᎤᎵᎾᏫ-ᎦᏙᎦ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ.

ᎢᏧᎳ Ꮭ ᎤᏅᏘᏎ ᎾᏍᎩᏛᏁ,
ᎠᏎᏃ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎢᎦᏛ
ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏏᏓᏁᎸᎯ ᎥᎿᎢ.


They are our brothers,
the people who
have vanished
from the end
of the turtle's tail.

We didn't know them,
but they are part
of our family.






Text © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler. Photo: Maggiorino Borgatello Salesian Museum, Punta Arenas, Chile.

uyelvha agadohvsdi 40 / ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 40

ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎠᎾᏓᏅᏟ,
ᏴᏫ Ꮎ ᎠᏗᏍᎦᎶᏗᏎ
ᎤᎵᏍᏛ ᎤᎵᎾᏫ-ᎦᏙᎦ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ.

ᎢᏧᎳ Ꮭ ᎤᏅᏘᏎ ᎾᏍᎩᏛᏁ,
ᎠᏎᏃ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎢᎦᏛ
ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏏᏓᏁᎸᎯ ᎥᎿᎢ.






Friday, December 28, 2018

We Wear Many Masks

We wear many masks
in this life.
Underneath them
there is pain and
sorrow,
but there is also
joy, and love.

Deeper still,
there is a single
Being.






Naked Wisdom 39 (translation)

ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎪᏩᏔᏎ
ᎠᏴᏓᏆᎶᏍᎬ-ᎤᎶᎩᎸᏗᏁ,
ᎠᏓᏁᏚ ᎠᎾᎵᎮᎵᎬᏁ,
ᎢᎬᏂᏏᏍᎩ ᎠᎦᏍᎬ
ᎠᏎᎢ ᏅᎳᏎ.

When you see
thunder clouds,
give thanks,
for rain
is surely coming.






Text © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler. Image: public domain.

uyelvha agadohvsdi 39 / ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 39

ᎢᏳᏃ ᏂᎯ ᎪᏩᏔᏎ
ᎠᏴᏓᏆᎶᏍᎬ-ᎤᎶᎩᎸᏗᏁ,
ᎠᏓᏁᏚ ᎠᎾᎵᎮᎵᎬᏁ,
ᎢᎬᏂᏏᏍᎩ ᎠᎦᏍᎬ
ᎠᏎᎢ ᏅᎳᏎ.






Thursday, December 27, 2018

Who Am I, Really?

Who am I, really?
I cannot be this body,
inching toward the exits,
because I have had many
bodies.
What is it, then,
that is transmitted,
at home among
the millennia?

Brother Ramana,
naked among
the birds and flowers,
knew the answer.






Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler

My Mother Came to Me






My mother came to me
as she was dying.
Twelve hundred miles away,
in a city she had never seen,
she found me.
I had finished my naked yoga,
and done my meditation,
when she spoke.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"I am here," she said,
"I am going. I am going NOW."
We spoke. I thanked her
for all that she had done
for us.
I told her to go toward the light,
that there was nothing
to fear.
Again she said,
"I am going now."

I knew when she was gone,
felt her absence.
I checked the time
on the clock.

"We may get a call." I said
to Sandy,
as I entered the bathroom
to take my shower.

We got the call
while I was still
in the shower.

Later,
as we sat on the sofa,
I cried.

The time I had noted
on the clock
was correct.







Text and images © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler.

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Why Udugi?

The gentle reader may well wonder why there is so much of the Udugi language in this poetry blog. I myself might not have predicted it. After all, I considered my work on the language to be finished several months ago, and even announced as much. It's true that I'm helping those who wish to learn the language to do so, but they could also develop it on their own. A living language cannot be the property of a single person.

No, there is no need for me to continue to write in Udugi. At this point, I'm doing it for myself. The truth is that the language, which I love, has become a part of me and of my poetry. It is now part of my art. Often, I cannot say which language is the original, because they are so interwoven. Further, writing in a language that is even partially indigenous is a great aid to plain speaking.

I think the Sequoyah syllabary, in its final form, is quite beautiful in and of itself. Even those who do not understand the language can appreciate the decorative, aesthetic, and symbolic qualities of the writing system, not to mention the role that it played historically. But leaving aside all of this, and even the fact that is a writing system at all, we are left with the addition of a beautiful and personal, quasi-asemic dimension to my poems. I like that added dimension very much, and I intend to foster it.






Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler.

Naked Wisdom 38 (translation)

ᎤᎵᏍᏛ ᎭᏫᎾ,
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎤᎭᏎ
Ꮎ ᎢᏧᎳ
ᏂᎪᎯᎸᎢ ᎤᎯᏎ:
ᏅᎩ ᎩᏄᏙᏗᏗ
ᏧᏕᏘᏴᏓ ᎥᎿᎢ
ᎠᎴ ᏦᎦᏚ ᏅᏕᏙᏗ.
ᏂᎦᏛ ᎢᎦᏛ
ᏧᏕᏘᏴᏓ ᎥᎿᎢ
ᎤᎭᏎ ᎾᏍᎩᎯ
ᏗᎦᎸᏫᏍᏓᏃᏁ.

In the end,
we have
what we
have always had:
four quarters
of the year
and thirteen moons.
Every part
of the year
has its
work.





Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

uyelvha agadohvsdi 38 / ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 38

ᎤᎵᏍᏛ ᎭᏫᎾ,
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎤᎭᏎ
Ꮎ ᎢᏧᎳ
ᏂᎪᎯᎸᎢ ᎤᎯᏎ:
ᏅᎩ ᎩᏄᏙᏗᏗ
ᏧᏕᏘᏴᏓ ᎥᎿᎢ
ᎠᎴ ᏦᎦᏚ ᏅᏕᏙᏗ.
ᏂᎦᏛ ᎢᎦᏛ
ᏧᏕᏘᏴᏓ ᎥᎿᎢ
ᎤᎭᏎ ᎾᏍᎩᎯ
ᏗᎦᎸᏫᏍᏓᏃᏁ.






This Sun and I

This sun and I
are somehow brothers,
and have been in the past.
A relationship
that is so deep
can surely only last.

ᎯᎠ ᏅᏓ ᎠᎴ ᎠᏯ
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎾᏍᎩ-ᎦᎶᎯᏍᏗ ᎠᎾᏓᏅᏟ,
ᎠᎴ ᎨᏒᎢᏎ ᏧᏩᎫᏔᏅᏒ ᎭᏫᎾ.
ᏌᏊ ᎦᏃᏢᎨᏦ ᎯᎠ-ᎢᏴ ᎭᏫᏂ
ᎠᏎᎢ ᏰᎵᏆᏎ ᎤᏩᏌ ᏂᎦᏰᏙᎯ.







Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler.

December 25 2018

Dog tranked, windows closed,
firecrackers pierce the mild air:
Christmas morning in Uruguay.






Sunday, December 23, 2018

Abstractions

We are abstractions,
recognizable mostly
by interior traits
through past,
present,
and future
generations.







Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler

Conception

Each of us is a thought
made flesh.
The thought matures
from birth
through death,
and perhaps
beyond.







Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler

Saturday, December 22, 2018

ᎠᎵᎮᎵᏍᏗ ᏅᏓ-ᎦᏙᎬ! (translation)

ᎠᎵᎮᎵᏍᏗ ᏅᏓ-ᎦᏙᎬ!

Happy Solstice!

¡Feliz solsticio!

Joyeux solstice!

Feliĉan solsticon!






Friday, December 21, 2018

Thursday, December 20, 2018

We Are a Moment of Light

We are a moment of light
caught between
cosmic shadows
in the dark womb
of the Mother
Goddess,
who both creates
and destroys us.
For that moment,
she fills us
with the tune
of her ancient
dance.






Text and image © 2018 by Donald C. Traxler

Naked Wisdom 37

ᏚᏳᎪᏛ Ꮭ ᏰᎵᏆᏎ ᎨᏒᎢ ᎢᎦᏪᏍᏗᏔ.


The truth cannot be expressed.











uyelvha agadohvsdi 37 / ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 37

ᏚᏳᎪᏛ Ꮭ ᏰᎵᏆᏎ ᎨᏒᎢ ᎢᎦᏪᏍᏗᏔ.






Wednesday, December 19, 2018

Makom

Makom / מקום

For Yakov

When I think of the idea of "place,"
the word that comes to mind,
more than any other,
is the Hebrew word,
"makom."
The word seems stable
and lasting, solid,
more so than others.
I don't know
why this is so.
I could explain it 
linguistically
as due to the final
continuant,
but I can't explain it
emotionally.
Hebrew is not really
one of my languages
in this life,
but only a remnant
from other lives,
and yet it seems
that the word
has always been there,
solid, stable,
established,
and lasting.

I have loved
many places:
my hometown,
when I still knew it,
and the dry mountains
surrounding it.
Border Mexico,
Barcelona,
the Blue Ridge,
a beach in Brazil
that I knew only
from another life.

They all had 
a certain sturdiness,
that of "makom,"
and all would appeal
to me,
and to a people
without place.


Donald Jacobson Traxler




I am happy to announce that this poetry blog has now received 51,000 visits. It was on Dec. 5 that I announced 50,000, so we are receiving 1,000 visits every two weeks, or 500 per week. Not too bad for poetry, I should say.

The blog, of course, also includes a little prose and quite a lot of photography. As to the poetry itself, I think I have finally found my identity and my poetic voice, after some years of exploration. The present, therefore, gives some hint concerning the future.

Thanks to all of you for your interest and enthusiasm.






From Out of the Past

ᏧᏩᎫᏔᏅᏒ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ
ᎠᏯ ᎧᏁᎬᎠᏎ ᏃᏊᎯᏓ ᏗᏜ
ᎠᎴ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᏗᏜ.
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎡᏆ ᎡᎷᏪᎢ
ᎤᏃᏴᎬ ᎣᏂᏗᏢ ᎡᏆ-ᎡᎶᎯ ᎥᎿᎢ,
ᎠᎴ ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎬᏃᏛ,
ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎬᏃᏛ.


From out of the past
I speak to the present
and to the future.
There is a great silence
behind the world's noise,
and it is alive,
it is alive.






ᏧᏩᎫᏔᏅᏒ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ

ᏧᏩᎫᏔᏅᏒ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ
ᎠᏯ ᎧᏁᎬᎠᏎ ᏃᏊᎯᏓ ᏗᏜ
ᎠᎴ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᏗᏜ.
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎡᏆ ᎡᎷᏪᎢ
ᎤᏃᏴᎬ ᎣᏂᏗᏢ ᎡᏆ-ᎡᎶᎯ ᎥᎿᎢ,
ᎠᎴ ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎬᏃᏛ,
ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎬᏃᏛ.







Tuesday, December 18, 2018

ᎢᏧᎳ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎸᏌᏓ

ᎢᏧᎳ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎸᏌᏓ
ᎠᎴ ᎤᏓᏴᎳᏛ,
ᎠᎴ ᎪᎱᏍᏗ ᏏᏊ
Ꮎ ᎠᎵᏘᎠᏎ ᎠᎦᏙᎵᏁ
ᏗᏓᏟᎶᏍᏙᏗ ᎥᎿᎢ.
ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ Ꮎ ᎢᏧᎳ
ᏂᎪᎯᎸᎢ ᎨᏒᎢᏎ,
ᎠᎴ ᎢᏧᎳ ᎤᏩᏌ ᏃᏊ
ᎠᎴᏅᏓᏎ
ᎤᏅᏘ ᎾᏍᎩᏁ.











We Are Light and Shadow

We are light and shadow,
and something more
that eludes
the camera's eye.
It is what we have
always been,
and we are only now
beginning
to know it.






Monday, December 17, 2018

Seventy-six Years

Seventy-six years
of a particular life
have shaped this body.
There were other bodies
before this,
and will be
still more.
Until?
What?
What is the grand
destination
at which we
are aiming?
We knew, once,
but have
forgotten.






Sunday, December 16, 2018

I Am Not Only This Body / ᎠᏯ Ꮭ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎯᎠ ᎠᏰᎸ.

ᎠᏯ Ꮭ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎯᎠ ᎠᏰᎸ.
ᎠᏯ ᎠᎳᏍᏗᏎ ᏂᎦᏛ ᎯᎸᎯᎷᎢ ᏓᎾᎵᎲᏗ ᎭᏫᎾ,
ᎠᎴ ᎠᎳᏍᏙᏎ ᏓᎾᎵᎲᏗ ᎭᏫᎾ ᎢᏅ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᎥᎿᎢ.
ᏃᏊ, ᎠᏯ ᎦᏙᎬᎣᏎ ᎠᏆ ᎤᎸᏗ ᎠᎴ ᎠᎾᏓᏅᏟ ᎬᏙᏗ
ᏙᎯᏱ ᎾᏍᎩᎭᎢ.


I am not only this body.
I have fought in ancient battles,
and will fight in battles
of the far future.
Now, I will stand
with my sisters
and brothers
for peace.






aya tla gesvase uwasa hia ayelv / ᎠᏯ Ꮭ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎯᎠ ᎠᏰᎸ.

ᎠᏯ Ꮭ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎯᎠ ᎠᏰᎸ.
ᎠᏯ ᎠᎳᏍᏗᏎ ᏂᎦᏛ ᎯᎸᎯᎷᎢ ᏓᎾᎵᎲᏗ ᎭᏫᎾ,
ᎠᎴ ᎠᎳᏍᏙᏎ ᏓᎾᎵᎲᏗ ᎭᏫᎾ ᎢᏅ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᎥᎿᎢ.
ᏃᏊ, ᎠᏯ ᎦᏙᎬᎣᏎ ᎠᏆ ᎤᎸᏗ ᎠᎴ ᎠᎾᏓᏅᏟ ᎬᏙᏗ
ᏙᎯᏱ ᎾᏍᎩᎭᎢ.






Saturday, December 15, 2018

That Which Makes You Live

Ꮎ ᏂᎬᏂᏏᏍᎦᏎ ᏂᎯᏁ ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎢ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎥᎴᏂᏙᎲ.

ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏚᏳᏙᏛ
ᎠᎴ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏬᏚ.

ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏂᎯ.



That which makes you live
is life.

It is truth and
it is beauty.

It is you.






na nigvnisisgase / Ꮎ ᏂᎬᏂᏏᏍᎦᏎ

Ꮎ ᏂᎬᏂᏏᏍᎦᏎ ᏂᎯᏁ ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎢ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎥᎴᏂᏙᎲ.

ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏚᏳᏙᏛ
ᎠᎴ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᏬᏚ.

ᎾᏍᎩ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏂᎯ.






Renewal / ᎠᏤᎯᏐᏗᏱ

ᎾᏍᎩ ᎠᏂᎩᏍᏗ ᏌᏊ ᏧᎾᏍᏗ ᎬᏙᏗ.
ᎦᏙᏃ?
ᎢᎬᏂᏏᏍᎩ ᎠᎦᏴᎵ ᎢᏯᏛᏁᎵᏓᏍᏗᏗ
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏦᏍᏗᏓᏄᏫ
ᎠᏤᎯᏐᏗᏱ ᎥᎿᎢ.

ᎠᏍᏆᏂᎪᏚ Ꮎ ᏂᎯ ᎤᏚᎳᏓᏎ,
ᏩᏗᏅᏚ Ꮎ Ꮭ,
ᎠᎴ ᏗᏓᏂᏴᏚ
ᎠᏤᎯᏐᏗᏱᏁ.


It starts with a change.
Why?
Because old habits
are the enemy
of renewal.

Keep what you need,
discard what you don't,
and embrace
renewal.






atsehisodiyi / ᎠᏤᎯᏐᏗᏱ

ᎾᏍᎩ ᎠᏂᎩᏍᏗ ᏌᏊ ᏧᎾᏍᏗ ᎬᏙᏗ.
ᎦᏙᏃ?
ᎢᎬᏂᏏᏍᎩ ᎠᎦᏴᎵ ᎢᏯᏛᏁᎵᏓᏍᏗᏗ
ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᏦᏍᏗᏓᏄᏫ
ᎠᏤᎯᏐᏗᏱ ᎥᎿᎢ.

ᎠᏍᏆᏂᎪᏚ Ꮎ ᏂᎯ ᎤᏚᎳᏓᏎ,
ᏩᏗᏅᏚ Ꮎ Ꮭ,
ᎠᎴ ᏗᏓᏂᏴᏚ
ᎠᏤᎯᏐᏗᏱᏁ.






Naked Wisdom 36

ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏧᏩᎫᏔᏅᏒ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ.

ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎾᏊ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ.

ᎠᏎᏃ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎬᎵᏱᎵᏒᎣᏎ ᎨᏒᎢ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ ᎢᏳᏃ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ.

ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏗᏂᏲᏟ, ᎠᎴ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏗᏂᏲᏟ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ.


A⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠tsu⁠wa⁠gu⁠ta⁠nv⁠sv⁠ ⁠ge⁠sv⁠a⁠se⁠ ⁠u⁠li⁠s⁠ge⁠dv⁠. ⁠

⁠a⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠na⁠quu⁠ ⁠ge⁠sv⁠a⁠se⁠ ⁠u⁠li⁠s⁠ge⁠dv⁠ ⁠

⁠a⁠se⁠no⁠ ⁠na⁠s⁠gi⁠dv⁠ ⁠u⁠wa⁠sa⁠ ⁠gv⁠li⁠yi⁠li⁠sv⁠o⁠se⁠ ⁠ge⁠sv⁠i⁠ ⁠u⁠li⁠s⁠ge⁠dv⁠ ⁠i⁠yu⁠no⁠ ⁠a⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠u⁠wa⁠gu⁠di⁠di⁠sv⁠ ⁠ge⁠sv⁠a⁠se⁠ ⁠u⁠li⁠s⁠ge⁠dv⁠ ⁠

⁠a⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠u⁠wa⁠gu⁠di⁠di⁠sv⁠ ⁠ge⁠sv⁠a⁠se⁠ ⁠a⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠di⁠ni⁠yo⁠tli⁠,⁠ ⁠a⁠le⁠ ⁠a⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠di⁠ni⁠yo⁠tli⁠ ⁠ge⁠sv⁠a⁠se⁠ ⁠a⁠qua⁠tse⁠li⁠ ⁠u⁠wa⁠gu⁠di⁠di⁠sv⁠.


Our past is important.

Our present is important.

But they will only continue to be important if our future is important.

Our future is our children, and our children are our future.






Friday, December 14, 2018

uyelvha agadohvsdi 36 / ᎤᏰᎸᎭ ᎠᎦᏙᎲᏍᏗ 36

ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏧᏩᎫᏔᏅᏒ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ.

ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎾᏊ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ.

ᎠᏎᏃ ᎾᏍᎩᏛ ᎤᏩᏌ ᎬᎵᏱᎵᏒᎣᏎ ᎨᏒᎢ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ ᎢᏳᏃ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎤᎵᏍᎨᏛ.

ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏗᏂᏲᏟ, ᎠᎴ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᏗᏂᏲᏟ ᎨᏒᎠᏎ ᎠᏆᏤᎵ ᎤᏩᎫᏗᏗᏒ.






Thursday, December 13, 2018

I Cling to Whatever Identity I Have

I cling to whatever identity I have,
but I have none,
or I have many.
In the end,
I only have one--
I am human.
I am defined more
by what I am not:
rich, powerful,
a greedy hoarder
of wealth and
power.
In other words,
I am not
a monster.
Fine.
I would rather
be just another
victim, and take
my chances
with every other
sister
and brother.






Tuesday, December 11, 2018

Monday, December 10, 2018

Psalm 137

By the rivers of Babylon,
there we sat and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows,
there in its midst,
we hung our harps.
For there, those who
had taken us captive
requested words of song from us,
those who were afflicting us
demanded joy.
"Sing us some songs
of Zion."

How shall we sing
the Lord's song
on foreign soil?
If I should forget you,
O Jerusalem,
may my right hand
go also to oblivion,
may my tongue
stick to my palate
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
at the head of all my joy.

Remember,O Lord,
the sons of Edom,
on the day
of Jerusalem,
saying "destroy it,
destroy it,
down to its
foundations."
O daughter of Babylon,
you despoiler,
blessed is the one
who will repay you
for what you have done to us.
Beatus qui tenebit et adlidet
parvulos tuos ad petram.


Copyright © 2018 by Donald Traxler



Sunday, December 9, 2018

Length of Years

Length of years
is no excuse for anything,
but rather
to the contrary.
How long does it take
to learn the lessons
of many lifetimes?