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Common Ground

Keeper of dreams

Holder of hope

Whispering Rose's secret:

You can change

You can be better

You can dance wildly

You can sing loudly

You can live your greatest fantasy.

 

Common Ground

Where old come to die...again.

And the new is born...again.

And all is possible in that life cycle.

 

Common Ground

Where tall pines shelter you

And the wind whispers through the leaves

And the earth holds your secrets

And the trails lead you home.

 

- Constance Haqq, June 2005 

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The Angelic Dreams of Flowers & Children

Common Ground Dedication 10-17-1997

Deep as the roots

of whispering pines

sunk deep into mutual soil,

the childlike vibrations of this place

named for its vision

COMMON GROUND

this solid, centered, shared space

where people can explore their common-alities

-- their fellowship, kinship, mothership, fathership,

manship, womanship, eldership, kidship--

Reach back to drink a half century of sweetwater dreams.

Once, not so long ago, three children

came here and found a tree

"This is the grieving tree," they decided,

and pointed with sticks fallen from it

to the thorns all around.

"It will teach you to cross the river--

to heal the wounds--

to let go of tears--

the inside ones and the outside ones."

Soon afterwards they sailed into a golden sunset of visions.

"Listen! Do you hear?

The earth is moving beneath our feet,

and the leaf-makers are swaying in the wind.

We must not forget them,

for they will be our teacher,

they will let us thrive,

they will let us dream

dreams never dreamed before."

When they grew up

those dreams-- some realized, some vanquished--

became their own only,

or so they thought

in their bleakest moments.

But one collective dream, tended by a Rose,

was kept alive and nurtured

by the small and large gifts of others--

produce, time, and the in- kind fragrances of friendship.

And then, as if on cue, still another flower grew

a blossom full of yellow dreams and stories

 about to become miraculously true.

In them, a camp was purchased and kids were gathered.

There was food and fun, days lying in the sun,

and moments around bonfires

when everyone became one.

And then both flowers knew

it wasn't just the dream of some

it was the dream of many

it was life's curriculum--

-- the angelic dream of flowers and children--

and happily, its time had come.

-Bob Henry Baber