Tuesday, November 1, 2011

All Saints Day and I Begin

The earth laughs in flowers. Emerson

Notes from a Future Fossil 

You who circumambulate the high crystal mountains
and come down to a glacier-fed riverbed to discover its treasures
as if at the center of the world, look for me.

I may be resting there, perpetually bathing
in mountain blessed light and sleeping at night
beneath the dark quilt of sky or a shimmering blanket of stars.

If you find my bones tucked away in a river cave, half-turned
to stone, and you take my petrified skull into your hands,
look into the death-opened windows from where once eyes
would have gazed out to greet you.

There will be green algae clinging to the fissures,
and nests of blue feathers where ears once were.

By these signs you will know who I have become,
distilled and transformed from what I once was 
to green earth and blue wind.

Do not try to imagine the person who once inhabited the shrine
of the skull in your hands. The temple has closed. 
You will not come close.

Instead, commend my freed spirit to the ocean, to red cedar trees 
and waterfalls, to white volcanoes whose sacred glacial galleries 
hold histories, and mine among them. Soon perhaps, 
and one day surely~ yours.

Alla Renée Bozarth  

Diamonds in a Stony Field 
Copyright 2012          

Picture notes: Flower image above~ one of my Brigadoon camellias in the back yard. Petrified wood with rose quartz in a bench near the well in the front yard. Below, enlarged, are pictures of Mt. Hood over my pasture 30 years ago with a neighbor's horse in the field and blooms in the wildflower meadow; and further down, at sunset, framed by trees from the top of my hill, then coming down into the heart place of mystery and up again to open pastures and forest views with Mt. Hood over all, and rhododendron close-ups in between, a quail on the pyramid fountain in the backyard seen from the enclosed porch window, and a deer passing yellow Siberian irises on the way to the pool for a drink

Nothing Anywhere Else Could be Better than This 

Freedom from everything
now. You can see
right through me,
Skin thinned to a mere
clear wrapper.

Freedom to be completely
myself. Freedom from travel.
Freedom from the incessant
melodrama of others’ lives.
Freedom to be exactly where
I want to be, that one place 
on earth that is best suited 
to my inner landscape, 
the land of my birth.

Freedom to do what I most
want to do, which is to commune 
with elder beings who live
in the garden around me—

The water that falls
from rock sculpture and all
the shapes of spirit-holding trees.

And the shape-shifting clouds
that swim through the sky.
And the ever-changing firebodies
of stars. I could not be so well 
companioned by running or flying
around the world at my former speeds.

I could not be so well taught
by the redundant and less important
information that assaulted my ears
through the telephone or newspapers. 

Going out like this
in such near-perfection 
at the end of an incarnation, 
in natural cessation of bodily function,   
I shall die a well woman.

Alla Renée Bozarth
Part One in Quartet~ 

Swinging Over the Edge of the World
Copyright 2008  

Tonight I followed my fingers to the creation keys for a blog, something I never imagined I'd do. This is mostly a result of having created an archival website but being unable to complete and post it for economic reasons. I'm going to try to make available some of the various resources I want made available, but right now have no idea how it all will work out, so I'm embarking on a new adventure in learning and discovery. Perhaps the archives will be a way to translate the topics so that they can be found.

Here's a generous reader's response: 
"You draw on waters of a well you have dug and filled, with a lifetime of spiritual reflections and observations about the cosmos and the human condition within that cosmos– emerging as  truth  dressed up in the magnificent language of poetry. You minister to us with poetic soul-talk of the highest order. Thank you for finding such a distinctive way to touch and teach me ~ us ~  in so many remarkable ways with your extraordinary spirit."
"Love, blessings, and shalom, Rolf Menachem Gompertz"



Tat Tvam Asi

that art thou
that art thou
that art thou

the divine is you
the divine is you
the divine is each you
the divine is every you
you are in the divine
the divine is in you

that art thou
tat tvam asi!

don’t worry
you can’t know it
that you are a stand-in
for God, that your neighbor
and even your enemy
and the weeds you are trying to kill
are stand-ins for God ~
that the invisible neutrinos
that flow through us
from the beginning of creation
are God particles, that the great oceans
and mountains and distant galaxies
are part of God

if you could know it
if they could know it
we would be in constant awe
of one another, and be unable
to cause harm

but the pebble that rests under snow
above the inner fires of its mother volcano
cannot know what it is, cannot know it is
the Mountain, cannot comprehend
the breathtaking beauty of Mountain ~
but it is the Mountain and
the Mountain is it and gave birth to it,
rock from fire resting in frozen white water ~
part of the indescribable, incomprehensible Beauty
it is all the One and the One is all ~
who you are, who I am, who we are

      Alla Renée Bozarth

The Frequencies of  Sound 
Copyright 2013.
I Am You         

My third eye sees from inside God with a God’s Eye view
And your third eye sees from inside God with a God’s Eye view—
When you look with your Third Eye into mine, You see your Self, holy,
and when I look with my Third Eye into yours, I see my Self, holy—

Therefore, as I walk the earth
I say to the tree, I am You
I say to the fruit on the tree, I am You
I say to the solitary shell, I am You
I say to the creature once living there, I am You
I say to the bear, I am You
I say to the bird, I am You
I say to the flower, I am You
I say to the bee, I am You
I say to the storm cloud, I am You
I say to thunder, I am You
I say to the rain, I am You
I say to the waterfall, I am You
I say to the river, I am You
I say to the fire, I am You
I say to the mountain, I am You
I say to the desert, I am You
I say to the ocean, I am You
I say to the homeless person, I am You
I say to the millionaire, I am You
I say to the elegant poet on dialysis, I am You
I say to the caregiver, I am You
I say to the disabled person, I am You
I say to the ancient, I am You
I say to the city, I am You
I say to the student, I am You
I say to the teacher, I am You
I say to the farmer, I am You
I say to the prisoner, I am You
I say to the soldier, I am You
I say to the swimmer, I am You
I say to history, I am You
I say to the newborn as to the dying, I am You
I say to You, I am You

          Alla Renée Bozarth
The Frequencies of  Sound 
Copyright 2013.


A Contribution~ In the Service of Creation 

In case you need
to hear it again—
though I am certain
that you know it
very well—

life is short
and uncertain.

You won’t have
many chances,
maybe today’s are it,
so ask questions
and say what you mean.

Look up words and names
and learn more about them.
Say them out loud, and
throw a party for the people
who impress you by
thinking about them
with a visible smile.

Leave a trail of poems and prayers
behind you, scatter some randomly
around~ tell everyone, all the animals,
plants and elements, tell all beings
about their incredible courage,
and introduce the world
to its own loveliness.

What a gift you’ll be
giving, what a magnificent

Alla Renée Bozarth 
The Frequencies of Sound 



                                            North South East and West
of my body, straight and fluid
as a magnet’s needle, drawing
all creation home.

Messenger blood bends down,
back, then side to side,
balanced in space,
stretched in all directions,
seeking the lively gift.

My body waits her journey
into living things, deep
down lying animals,
incarnate little creatures
feasting on my bones.

In the warm wet tingle
of earth down under
creatures meet most dearly, 
sleep and secrets shared
in earth from cell to cell,
decomposing to recompose,
most real deep down incorporation.

Fire heats the inside planet
keeping all things going,
sacrament of changes, fire
burns to fulfill being itself,
immaterial but loving matter.

Fire is the process
of deep transformation.
North South East and West
fire guided mercury moving me
up, down, from side to side
a body wise with soul.

Bury me under blue
waterfall that my body
may wash deep and straight
into Earth’s heart
in live green ground
a silver arrow,
skin like broken glass
letting the billion particles
of blood spill out, surprised
by air, flooding into
waiting pores.

This is my body given for you,
heart having melted into sod.
This is my blood.

Sunsoaked arms springing
up green shoots newly
for fruit trees
may once again find light
and warm electric shock
of summer rain,
my legs be nests
for small dark
gentle beasts to
busily bed their eggs,
my eye-spaces cradle
doubly round wild iris bulbs,
my eyes see sky again
through the growing upward
faces of red, purple, electric blue
O wildest new wild irises in green fields
with singing roots where others' bodies 
once hummed,
my nails and hair the hidden
flow of seed from past nights
into days for future years
as nesting matter.

Hoping for life
in a tangle of grasses,
my cradle arms outstretched
across oceans for opposite
once-joined lands
reuniting the times.

North South East and West
of my body, I am the gift
I sought in my bones.

Radiant skull leaping
lively inside (because of wild
irises in green fields),
but always aiming upward
waiting for the Yes
of the One Day opening
in a joyous, awesome
spiral of Forever~

Alla Renée Bozarth
This is My Body— 
Praying for Earth, Prayers from the Heart 

 Easter Bear in Purple Fields

I think I was inspired, on my way to taking an All Saints Evening Moonlight walk on my hilly country road, to stop at the computer en route and inquire, "How to start a blog." It had occurred to me moments before while thinking about my closeted website that a blog might be a way to bring some of its content to light. Then my feet and fingers pursued what I thought would be a moment of information. In response to my query, Google immediately gave me a page that said, "It's easy, quick, simple and free. Click here to begin and have your blog right away." Right away? I clicked. And here I am, ready to bring you poems, prayers, stories about inspiring people . . .

              . . . Greeting Bishop Barbara Harris on her Consecration Day

. . . and Earth, Water and Sky images in living color. I hope that they will make your eyes happy, your mind gratified and your heart and soul glad.

Grief Give-Away Dance to God
The Upper Room, Jerusalem

Dance Then To Everything          

Music is everywhere
music is in sound and
music is in silence

Therefore I dance
to silence I dance
to tears I dance
to laughter I dance
to groans and moans

I dance to Rachmaninoff
and Bach, to Beethoven
and Dylan, to Carole King
and Marvin Gay and to everything
composed, harmonious and played

Dance then to birdsong and waterfall,
to the spring scented forest and garden,
to snow and the rain, to river and ocean,
with desert or mountain, I dance

For the dancing mind can dance
forward or backward in time and space also,
indeed to outer and inner dimensions uncommonly known

I dance with my eyes,
I dance with one hand,
I dance clapping,
I dance with one foot
or one shoulder, my hair
dances with wind

I dance to poetry while hearing it,
I dance to poetry while reading it
aloud to the tree for whom I wrote it

As I dance around the lovely thing
with my hand or arm encircling

As Rumi danced his grief
and finally his joy around
the cool, smooth, sacred stone  
until he warmed it with longing~

As Rumi danced around the pillar of loss
when his beloved teacher and friend
called Shams, The Sun, had died—

He danced to call back the Light 
from the belly of darkness
that had swallowed the sky,
as now the Sufi dance after him

For Dance is the Song of the Body,
and Songs are the Dance of the Voice~
as both Move, Utter, Outer the Soul

I dance to the gospels
I dance to the psalms
I dance to a friend
I dance mostly and always
to God

Don’t let the limitations
of your body deter you,
dance with your mind,
dance with your soul

Feel free to join me
across great distances
of space and time
and dance on your own

Dance all by yourself
so no one will know
but you and the Beloved,
in whatever form you
experience the Beloved,
and let the Beloved
dance with You                  

           Alla Renée Bozarth    
 The Frequencies of Sound

                                              From the Cradle of Life . . .

                                        . . . and the streams of living waters

            . . . to the Mountain Source where fires glow beneath ice and snow

                   . . . and water and light grow beauty from a seed~

 May you be blessed and inspired 
     on your own unique journey through space and time!

An afternoon visitor in the wild patch.

                                          On Being a Mammal

Strawberry Moon
Wild Rose Moon
to begin and end
this month.

On Marmot Road
the tree I love
like me opens
its one good arm
in welcome.

The slow suffering
body wants to go back
to Earth before
all the parts
wear out and so
it leans toward her
body deeply
and I do also:  I touch
the tree and remember
a thrill of conviviality:
we are both made of the same
double helix molecular

Sitting still
on the ground
I become a life ladder —
small birds climb
over me on their way
up or down.
They take me
for the base of the tree.

Soon a red fox yawns
in the berry thicket,
beaver shift themselves
from work to play,
and cows lie down
in the sun, their copper
bodies glimmering peace.

A rabbit sniffs
the evening air
approaching and runs
from day’s done
hoofbeats heading
for the barn.

Learning to be myself
from them, I yawn, rest,
sniff and stretch
against the sun, listen
for the honey hunter
to come out of her den
and witness this session
of summer school.

A red dragonfly circles
the red hummingbird
circling a red wildflower.

Nose to nose with a doe,
mammal to mammal we
quietly regard each other. 
I tell her how glad I am
to have followed my instincts
here — how doing that more and more
cheers a girl right up.

Sunset moon rises full
and pink over the pink
wild rose and the rose
white mountain cuts a summit
triangle through the middle
of the moon.

We are beings
at the edge of the world. 
The world is on the edge
of night.  We are called
without exception
to learn more deeply
to love each other.

                  Alla Renée Bozarth

Moving to the Edge of the World,
iUniverse 2000; and This is My Body—
Praying for Earth~Prayers from the Heart, iUniverse 2004

 Let Thanks Be Given For All Creation!

Mouse the Neighbor Horse visiting my pasture.

Below: Precious the Young Goat  

 A friend who lives across the road.

Below: the black walnut tree in my backyard.


                                        Blessing of the Stew Pot

Blessed be the Creator
and all creative hands
which plant and harvest,
pack and haul and hand
over sustenance —
Blessed be carrot and cow,
potato and mushroom,
tomato and bean,
parsley and peas,
onion and thyme,
garlic and bay leaf,
pepper and water,
marjoram and oil,
and blessed be fire —
and blessed be the enjoyment
of nose and of eye,
and blessed be color —
and blessed be the Creator
for the miracle of red potato,
for the miracle of green bean,
for the miracle of fawn mushrooms,
and blessed be God
for the miracle of earth:
ancestors, grass, bird,
deer and all gone,
wild creatures
whose bodies become
carrots, peas and wild
flowers, whose bodies
give sustenance
to human hands, whose
agile dance of music
nourishes the ear
and soul of the dog
resting under the stove
and the woman working over
the stove and the geese
out the open window
strolling in the backyard. 
And blessed be God for all, all, all.
                                                                  Alla Renée Bozarth

Moving to the Edge of the World
 iUniverse 2000 and
This is My body—Prayers for Earth,
Prayers from the Heart 
iUniverse 2004

                                 Dahlia Delight
         Coral Gypsy Dahlia
                                             Cameo Dahlia in Prime
                  Angel Face Dahlia

First Review: As the December entries appeared, author, reconciliation activist, international speaker on lecture staff at the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles and generous visitor to this blog, Rolf Gompertz, wrote this tribute poem in response to the entries, First Word~Fresh Eyes, Beginner's Mind, Star Sermon and I Can't Wait for Christmas! and also the following letter reviewing the previous entries:


For Alla from Menachem

I read it, your Blog,

From Gloria to Advent,

Every word,

Every line,

Every  page.

I read it

In the early hours

of a Shabbat morning,

at the Western Bagel

in Studio City.

Now!  Just Now!

I have been lifted up

To new and rarefied heights and realms

by words and metaphors,

beyond  all words and metaphors,

to sacred truths


and stories,

to births

and deaths

and returns,

to transformations

and resurrections,

to glimpses of

Cosmic Soul and Spirit,

Being and Becoming,

Being and Becoming,

Being and Becoming,

In a Divine Dance,

An Eternal  Dance,

Expressions, Revelations

Of Love, of God,

Of God’s Now and Forever Love.

* * *

I hold on to these, your 

Spirit-filled, love-filled words,

for dear life,

With gratitude,


Love, and


As I head for

The synagogue.
©  2011 by Rolf Gompertz
December 6, 2011

Dear Alla,

I’ve had so many thoughts, feelings, and reactions rattling around inside me since I read your stunning ALLA BOZARTH WORDS AND IMAGES WELCOMING LIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS blog including : “Consecration: The Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde” and “Women, Trees and Sacred Earth,” that I feel truly overwhelmed and overjoyed.

I feel like a  pinball machine lighting up all over, as these thoughts and feelings race around inside me, knocking into each other and lighting up, at the speed of light.  Since there is no way of capturing them in an orderly fashion, I shall just try to recall them as best I can and let them tumble out, as I go along.

Thoughts and feelings, as you know, don’t present themselves at convenient times or convenient places.  If I needed to be reminded of that,  I was given such a reminder by reading these  latest, marvelous outpourings of your heart, mind, body and soul.

I have tried to find an umbrella title for them, in addition to the  always telling descriptive titles you give your writings. You are priest-prophet-poet, you are witness and participant.  You turn spirit into words, which become spirit again, as they touch my spirit, my soul, our spirit, our souls.  As I experience this, I feel lifted up and, in that moment, I feel an encounter with holiness.

This is “Torah” in the truest sense.  The translation for “Torah,” as you know, is “Teaching.”  It refers, of course, to our sacred texts.  Our rabbis, in wonderful rabbinic method and tradition, expand on this and declare that each human being is and can become a “torah, a teaching.”  You are such a torah, such a teaching.  Your life, your works, your words are such a torah, such a teaching – rare, extraordinary, sublime, and of the highest order.

I find you incomparable and in a class of your own.   Your writings have the power of raising the spirit, elevating the soul, and providing comfort, guidance, strength, joy and love.

That’s why I’m hoping and praying that your writings may not only be read by many, but studied also in schools and universities, and in academies secular and religious.  You have devoted your life to exploring the human heart, its needs and longings, and its connection to what is eternal, sacred, and holy, which we call by many names but, most simply, God.  You have left a most remarkable, detailed, virtually daily record and map of this journey.

Your blog is your Life Poem-Song-Dance; your books are its ramifications – its veins, arteries and tributaries.

And now, for Commentary and Random Thoughts re your BLOG
·        I love the two photos of you that greet the reader – hands raised in welcome and the beautiful close-up “Mount Hood in My Eyes.”

·        BOOKS AND REVIEWS 2004 interview, edited, revised June 6, 2010
       Wonderful basic information
       Love the wonderful details that give it texture and insight into your life
§        the Underwood typewriter from your mother, to break you of writing on the wall
§        your mother, a painter
§        the nine eye surgeries
§        the raids on your father’s library and what you read at different stages early in your life – precocious to say the least
§        your first “real poem,” a series of three, written while sitting on a rock in the MacKenzie River

·        Your amazing discussion of poetry – that is the finest description and explanation of poetic creation I have ever read.  It is such an ethereal, intuitive process to begin with – virtually beyond words – a process that hovers between heaven and earth – and you have managed to put it into words that flutter between these realms.  Totally, wonderfully inspired.  A WOW moment for me, indeed.

·        “Stars in Your Bones.”  -- What a revelation!  Terri Hawthorne, Julia Barkley, you – how your lives and creativities came together  and produced “a show…in three movements.” All of it, including the Peace Memorial Garden.  Awesome.

         At the Foot of the Mountain.
“…it has no plot.  My life and soul have no plot…only themes.” What a fascinating claim, statement and thought – which you then go on to explain.  I have underlined every word of your “explanation” and placed five !!!!!! next to the paragraph, in the margin. The basic themes of a human life, the balancing act we must achieve to fulfill goals or be happy (and healthy) – your words.  And more:  “The soul has to learn how to respond when bad weather comes, as well as sudden bliss.  I think all my books are about that one way or another, even in my scholarly book, The Word’s BodyAn Incarnational Aesthetic of Interpretation, which is about embodying the word~ whether in performance, simply reading aloud, or even as a silent reader, and how one interprets a text through one’s kinesthetic response to it.”

What an amazing description/explanation.  By the way, I still marvel at your scholarly book.  I thought you might enjoy and be surprised to know that when I taught at UCLA Extension I always read a paragraph from this book, another from Life is Good-Bye, Life is Hello, and a poem. 

Then, without telling them your name or anything about you, I asked who the writer was “professionally.”  I got three answers:  an academic, a psychologist/psychotherapist, and a poet.

Then I informed them that  the writer is one person who is all of the above.  The moral of the story was that as writers, journalists,  authors or whatever, they must always know the correct format to use for whatever they are writing and the correct language.  Know which hat you are wearing.

(BTW, I once had a student who was so way over the top that I could not tell her anything and she insisted on writing like a carnival hawker.  I told her she would be better off writing fantasies or popular romances.  She was literally out of control.)

·        Your Journey
        It was so wonderful to read about your parents  and how you were immersed “in adult culture from the beginning.”  Even when you are writing prose you are writing poetry!  For example:  “Art and Spirit were my soul’s food, natural as breathing.  As I matured, I continued to integrate them.  The focus of my childhood combined humanitarian service, creativity and worship.  I became a celebrant of the mysteries in my work as a poet, and I wanted to be a complete celebrant, a priest who offered the poetic structure of Thanks in the Divine Liturgy.” 
           That is sooooooo beautiful.       
     Loved what you answered re. what makes good poetry.  Five more !!!!!!

        Yeah, Walt Whitman!  Yeah Loren Eisley.  Didn’t know Stafford, but a  belated “yeah.” Also Naomi Shihab Nye.

·        What’s Next? Amazing!!!!!  Also very touching, poignant:  “I’ve been living with and learning from a chronic illness…that has caused all sorts of physical limitations…but….the more limited my body has been, the more I’ve written.  I suppose it is sublimation.” And then, that magnificent poem, “a celebration, a reverse sublimation,” “The Poet to Her Love”….achingly beautiful.

Now we come to all the amazing historical events and their bearing on your life, the struggle for women’s rights, and the particular, heroic struggle for bringing about the ordination of women in the Episcopal Church.  What an enormously valuable account this is. 

Your books follow, in impressive parade, with wonderful commentary, particularly Life Is Goodbye/Life is Hello, culminating with the magnificent poem, “Dancing the Labyrinth” from Accidental Wisdom, and its wonder-filled, wonder-full message “to let your heart break open/so that you can hear/the first cry/of creation/ when God birthed/the universe,/and you can/become/large enough/to respond,/let your whole/life unfurl/in all /its magnificence /and purity, /and cry back to the Holy One/with the beauty /that will rise/within you.

Magnificent, indeed.  Thank you, dearest Alla, for these holy words, and this holy blog.

Love, blessings, and shalom,
Rolf Menachem Gompertz

Author of To Life! To Love! In Poetry and Prose, a Spiritual Memoir; A Jewish Novel about Jesus  (formerly, My Jewish Brother Jesus); and, in addition to many others, Sparks of Spirit, How to Find Love and Meaning in Your Life 24 Hours a Day  



  1. Hi Alla -- welcome to the blogging community. You're already doing a great job. I think you can create separate blogs for each of your focus points and then link them each to one another. Others seem to accomplish that task...as for me, I haven't tried it yet.

    Love, Christin

  2. Wonderful! Wonderful. Wonderful. Wonderful. and of course wonder-filled...

    I have held you in my heart this All Saints and All Souls time 2011. Now I know why. For some reason, your comment about the bells lifting us heavenward made me think that this was a very special time for you. I thought of Phil, actually.

    Blessings, my dearie dear. Blessings.



Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.