Location: Seattle, Washington, United States
Traditions:
Buddhism, Christianity, Humanism
More about me
More about ValerieT
48 years old
Location: Seattle, Washington, United States
Traditions:
Buddhism, Christianity, Humanism
Interests:
Too tired to think about my interests, but here's my bio:
Dr. Valerie Tarico is author of The Dark Side: How Evangelical Teachings Corrupt Love and Truth. She hosts “Christianity in the Public Square,” a monthly series on Moral Politics Television. Raised in a staunch fundamentalist family, Dr. Tarico attended Wheaton College, where the Billy Graham Center houses a museum dedicated to the history of American Evangelicalism. She obtained a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology from the University of Iowa before completing postdoctoral studies at the University of Washington. Now a psychotherapist in Seattle, Dr. Tarico calls upon her scientific training, professional experience, and background as a born-again Evangelical as she examines crucial questions about faith, facts, and compassion.
ValerieT's Wisdom Page
"We are each other's business; we are each other's harvest; we are each other's magnitude and bond.” --American poet Gwendolyn Brooks
Mission Statement
My life mission is to tend the well-being of the intricate web of creation that gave me birth and the well-being of my fellow humans within that web.
Sometimes
I find myself
desperately
dancing (running, eating, playing)
As if by sight, sound, movement
I could drive away my
loneliness.
Sometimes
I find myself
frantically
sleeping (talking, laughing, hugging)
As if by dream, word, contact
I could drive away my
fear.
Sometimes, though,
I find myself.
I find myself
desperately
dancing (running, eating, playing)
As if by sight, sound, movement
I could drive away my
loneliness.
Sometimes
I find myself
frantically
sleeping (talking, laughing, hugging)
As if by dream, word, contact
I could drive away my
fear.
Sometimes, though,
I find myself.
Sometimes
I find myself
desperately
dancing (running, eating, playing)
As if by sight, sound, movement
I could drive away my
loneliness.
Sometimes
I find myself
frantically
sleeping (talking, laughing, hugging)
As if by dream, word, contact
I could drive away my
fear.
Sometimes, though,
I find myself.
I find myself
desperately
dancing (running, eating, playing)
As if by sight, sound, movement
I could drive away my
loneliness.
Sometimes
I find myself
frantically
sleeping (talking, laughing, hugging)
As if by dream, word, contact
I could drive away my
fear.
Sometimes, though,
I find myself.
Source
scribblings -- 4/17/87
Contribution #1355
Poetry • Meditation Source (click to close)
scribblings -- 4/17/87
Contribution #1355
Coves
I.
Two hulking copper forms,
juxtaposed in memory if not in space,
Rise up and offer a silent memorial
To death, the sea, and the tides of time.
In one cove looms
the battered iron torso of a ship
And scattered lies in severed evidence
the thundrous power of driving wind
of sea in storm.
In another rests
the twisted wooden bulk of a
mishapen whale,
learing gothic tribute to
the patient power of age and toil,
weariness and death.
II.
She who feeds on the
smallest forms of life
so in turn becomes
their food.
We who live in the
flow and ebb of time
in our turn shall be
consumed.
Two hulking copper forms,
juxtaposed in memory if not in space,
Rise up and offer a silent memorial
To death, the sea, and the tides of time.
In one cove looms
the battered iron torso of a ship
And scattered lies in severed evidence
the thundrous power of driving wind
of sea in storm.
In another rests
the twisted wooden bulk of a
mishapen whale,
learing gothic tribute to
the patient power of age and toil,
weariness and death.
II.
She who feeds on the
smallest forms of life
so in turn becomes
their food.
We who live in the
flow and ebb of time
in our turn shall be
consumed.
Coves
I.
Two hulking copper forms,
juxtaposed in memory if not in space,
Rise up and offer a silent memorial
To death, the sea, and the tides of time.
In one cove looms
the battered iron torso of a ship
And scattered lies in severed evidence
the thundrous power of driving wind
of sea in storm.
In another rests
the twisted wooden bulk of a
mishapen whale,
learing gothic tribute to
the patient power of age and toil,
weariness and death.
II.
She who feeds on the
smallest forms of life
so in turn becomes
their food.
We who live in the
flow and ebb of time
in our turn shall be
consumed.
Two hulking copper forms,
juxtaposed in memory if not in space,
Rise up and offer a silent memorial
To death, the sea, and the tides of time.
In one cove looms
the battered iron torso of a ship
And scattered lies in severed evidence
the thundrous power of driving wind
of sea in storm.
In another rests
the twisted wooden bulk of a
mishapen whale,
learing gothic tribute to
the patient power of age and toil,
weariness and death.
II.
She who feeds on the
smallest forms of life
so in turn becomes
their food.
We who live in the
flow and ebb of time
in our turn shall be
consumed.
Source
scribblings - 5/30/87
Contribution #1357
Poetry • Meditation Source (click to close)
scribblings - 5/30/87
Contribution #1357
Death has many guises
They carried from the
mountain today
the bodies of two.
And we,
hundreds of thousands of us,
paused momentarily,
comfortably discomfited
to hear the news.
(Death is fascinating
from a distance.)
Distance in this case is not
for most of us
a mere matter of space and time.
It derives also from the certain conviction
that we will never gamble our longevity
on risky ice ascents.
And so, pause ended,
we return blithely
to dinner, the briefcase
or the televised game.
But I have heard it whispered
that death has many guises
one of which is
safety.
mountain today
the bodies of two.
And we,
hundreds of thousands of us,
paused momentarily,
comfortably discomfited
to hear the news.
(Death is fascinating
from a distance.)
Distance in this case is not
for most of us
a mere matter of space and time.
It derives also from the certain conviction
that we will never gamble our longevity
on risky ice ascents.
And so, pause ended,
we return blithely
to dinner, the briefcase
or the televised game.
But I have heard it whispered
that death has many guises
one of which is
safety.
Death has many guises
They carried from the
mountain today
the bodies of two.
And we,
hundreds of thousands of us,
paused momentarily,
comfortably discomfited
to hear the news.
(Death is fascinating
from a distance.)
Distance in this case is not
for most of us
a mere matter of space and time.
It derives also from the certain conviction
that we will never gamble our longevity
on risky ice ascents.
And so, pause ended,
we return blithely
to dinner, the briefcase
or the televised game.
But I have heard it whispered
that death has many guises
one of which is
safety.
mountain today
the bodies of two.
And we,
hundreds of thousands of us,
paused momentarily,
comfortably discomfited
to hear the news.
(Death is fascinating
from a distance.)
Distance in this case is not
for most of us
a mere matter of space and time.
It derives also from the certain conviction
that we will never gamble our longevity
on risky ice ascents.
And so, pause ended,
we return blithely
to dinner, the briefcase
or the televised game.
But I have heard it whispered
that death has many guises
one of which is
safety.
Source
scribblings 6/8/87
Contribution #1356
Poetry • Meditation Source (click to close)
scribblings 6/8/87
Contribution #1356