Saturday, March 28, 2015


Gentle Reader,

What you’ll find below is an upside-down anthology of sorts: a journal of my frequent morning musings from January 2008 till now, in reverse order.

Much of what I write here is verse in traditional rhymed iambic pentameters, old fashioned in form but contemporary in topics and idiom. It asks to be read aloud so that the effects of rhyme and meter may be felt.

Sometimes I write brief prose essays, but even my verses are essays, or attempts, pursuing a line of thought to some conclusion, though more sonorously than those in prose: discursive verses, I call them.

In either case, you’re the reader over my shoulder as I write, which makes my writing different than when I have no audience in mind but only a vague urge to express. So I thank you for whatever attention you give my words and thoughts and feelings because you might so easily attend to something else, and you soon will.

To beguile you to linger longer, though, I’ve coupled most of my compositions with a photo or image I’ve taken or borrowed, which often corresponds with my words of that day.

Thank you for visiting here.  I hope you enjoy your stay and are moved to come back soon.

—Alan Nordstrom

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            Quite evidently, here on Earth we find
            An agency we’ve designated Mind,
            The origin of order and control,
            Assembling many parts into one whole:

            Good Orderly Direction, nicknamed GOD,
            Not a despotic ruler with a rod
            But a generous provider now called Source
            To which for all our needs we have recourse.

            Despite the seeming chaos and real pain

            That mortal earthly wayfarers sustain,
            There’s comfort to be found for misery
            Acknowledging this cosmic mystery.

                 Though enigmatic, history’s not blind,
                 For Mind’s involved in everything designed.


Friday, March 27, 2015


            How silly to have thought that out of dust,
            Of dirt, of mud, of clay there might arise
            Spontaneously a creature with a lust
            For life and the intent of growing wise.

            And yet we’re here and doubly sapient,
            Aware that we’re aware and aiming higher;
            Though wisdom is not clearly evident,
            It is the prospect toward which we aspire.

            But still we’re far from mastering that art,
            And folly, more than wisdom, seems our game,
            And sapience means more than being smart,
            But is a penchant for avoiding blame.

                 We’ll know we have fulfilled our destiny
                 When happiness is our propensity.


Thursday, March 26, 2015


            Aggression, dominance, conquest and such
            Behaviors we applaud as masculine
            Just demonstrate how far we’re out of touch
            With kindliness and love, and lost in sin.

            Life in the jungle may have given rise
            To such warlike behaviors in our past,
            But Homo sapiens will not grow wise
            Till gentle generosity rules at last.

            Until each person feels safe and secure
            With every opportunity to grow,
            Peace and civility will not endure,
            Antagonism being all we’ll know.

                 The greatest stride toward which we are inclined
                  Will make us all allied as humankind.


Wednesday, March 25, 2015


            ALL has proceeded from the cosmic Source,
            Disbursed into the universe on course
            To occupy what formerly was void
            But now by such as us may be enjoyed.

            The truth of this has grown evident
            To science proving purposeful intent:
            A cosmos that’s amazingly designed
            To show that all that matters comes from mind.


Monday, March 23, 2015


            Your consciousness continues when you die
            And may again incarnate here on Earth
            Allowing you to take another try
            At building virtues adding to your worth.

            The purpose of your soul is to advance
            In virtue, meeting challenges with grace,
            Like learning movements in a complex dance
            And dealing capably with all you face.

            It’s loving kindness you are here to learn—
            Extending it to everyone you meet,
            For loving is our ultimate concern,
            Without which no one’s life can be complete.

                 Just as a couplet ends this sonnet’s form,
                 The linkages of love become our norm.


Sunday, March 22, 2015


            I read and would believe that mind survives
            The death of bodies destined for the grave,
            That something deeply mystical contrives
            To elude the horror of that dark enclave.

            Mind is what’s real in the deepest sense,
            For matter is but thought made manifest
            As palpable, illusory evidence
            Of what one would not otherwise attest.

            But still reality, as Plato knew,
            Is not materiality but form,
            Not wispy figments in perceptual view;
            Instead, some constant, underlying norm.

                 And yet this reasoning is too abstract,
                 For nothing’s more consoling than plain fact.