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In memory

My brother wrote this beautiful tribute to my son…

School Of Blue

To Steve

We come to this place where you look back –
you have been present for days! – embodied
concern that says a thousand words.

You walk everywhere with us, your
celestial footprints marking the path.

It is winter here and in the spring
the butterflies will not forget.

In choosing now the words, won’t you
help us to sing a song of freedom –
we cannot control the pain, the grief
only going limp into it, surrender to
something bigger – captured in
the Redemption Song.

© 2021 Copyright Rick Frame

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what’s your superpower?

Beautifully written…

An Unexpected Mystic


A few years ago I spent most of a week reading a book by one of my heroes, Father Greg Boyle. Tattoos on the Heart had me alternately weeping and experiencing the most intense waves of love and compassion. I set it aside repeatedly, not wanting to finish the lovebath in those written words. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s gorgeous and, at least in my experience, it carries with it the potential for a spiritually transformative experience.

I was thinking about Father Boyles’ work with deeply wounded LA gang members as I headed to Andolini’s to pick up lunch for my nephew’s birthday celebration. The restaurant was crowded after church and the entryway was filled with would-be diners waiting for tables.

I settled in and picked up my phone to do what waiting people do these days. Suddenly,  the room hushed and there was a weird change in…

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Letting it All Out

Thank you for your beautiful words Peacock poetry.
This is dedicated to those who let us cry……

Peacock Poetry

I noticed in the very fresh stages of grief that some people just didn’t know where to put themselves. Some avoided all reference to any remotely personal line of conversation  and some gave me a wide berth as my grief obviously challenged their ability to be with their own emotions. Others wanted to make suggestions and give advice and there were also those that used the opportunity to offload their own repressed grief, relieved for the opportunity to make a socially acceptable connection through my circumstances. This was challenging as quite frankly I was dealing with my own shit and did not have the energy to bolster others in the way which usually came so naturally.

None of this was anyone’s fault of course. We are so ill-prepared to deal with our own grief let alone anyone else’s. There is no manual for these sort of situations and we are…

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