Author Archives: Ken Greenman

Induce me dear to seduce you dear and may we never feel so old as to deduce the need to reduce that deed or confuse that deed with another! For it is so conducive to changing a reclusive life to … Continue reading →

If there is no atheist in fox holes, surely it is the same in a cancer ward or emergency room. There is a waiting Divinity in the gloom mixed in with the proximity of doom who turns the unbelievers vision … Continue reading →

I woke this morning with a raspy, sore throat. No Wonder! Last night I played a few games of pick-up-full-court-basketball, shirts and skins. With five minutes to go, in the winner-take-all third game, I blocked a guys shot. He was … Continue reading →

Standing alone on a hillside, staring at midnight sky, wishing I had a place to go the moment after I die. That wishing morphs to a “hope there is”, that hoping, to a faith… and with that faith, Heavens golden … Continue reading →

The earth is full to its brim and spilling over with the Holy. Not metaphorically, rather elementally, substantively. Faith in the Holy connects the believer to the Holy in Its ubiquity. In fertile soil and pebbled stream. In the honey … Continue reading →

I don’t care what you’ve been told or what Paul Simon song you sing. Remember. When you’re really “feelin’ groovy”, a groove is a baby rut and a rut is a groove grown old.

I pray to be blessed with a sense of the Sacred deep inside of stones… with the feel of the flow of the Holy, deep in the marrow of my bones. In the lazy drift of the vulture. In the … Continue reading →

Broken Christmas melodies come from an antique music box while Santa and his raindeer circle high above the little cabin in the woods. He, puzzling how his great girth might squeeze through that stove-pipe chimney on the roof. Outside, the … Continue reading →

How sweet my last long breath will be before the Angel comes for me. That deep, cool inhaling in my lungs. The pause. The holding on. Then a last warm exhaling in my chest. So to the letting go of … Continue reading →

If this is all there will be of heaven for me, this final souls memory of morning in our warm bed, my wife, slumbers beside me, the soft sloping curve down from her hip, across her side, sliding up to … Continue reading →