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The mentoring approach in Coyote’s Guide to Connecting with Nature challenges convention. It requires that we who wish to mentor others get in touch with and trust in our own Coyote selves—teasing us out of our indoor worlds and leading us
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“What I want in my life is compassion,
a flow between myself and others based
on a mutual giving from the heart. —Marshall B. Rosenberg, PhD”
― Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life: Life-Changing Tools for Healthy Relationships
a flow between myself and others based
on a mutual giving from the heart. —Marshall B. Rosenberg, PhD”
― Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life: Life-Changing Tools for Healthy Relationships
“The Cabbage White
The butterfly, a cabbage-white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has- who knows so well as I?-
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the acrobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.”
― The Complete Poems
The butterfly, a cabbage-white,
(His honest idiocy of flight)
Will never now, it is too late,
Master the art of flying straight,
Yet has- who knows so well as I?-
A just sense of how not to fly:
He lurches here and here by guess
And God and hope and hopelessness.
Even the acrobatic swift
Has not his flying-crooked gift.”
― The Complete Poems
“Costumes and disguises will be light-hearted and fun when women are granted rock-solid identities. Clothing that highlights women’s sexuality will be casual wear when women’s sexuality is under our own control. … Women will be able thoughtlessly to adorn ourselves with pretty objects when there is no question that we are not objects. Women will be free of the beauty myth when we can choose to use our faces and our clothes as simply one form of self-expression out of a full range of others.”
― Body Image: Understanding Body Dissatisfaction in Men, Women and Children
― Body Image: Understanding Body Dissatisfaction in Men, Women and Children
“She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.”
―
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.”
―
“When Great Trees Fall
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
―
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
―
Adriana’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Adriana’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
236 books
|
36 friends
73 books
|
471 friends
124 books
|
27 friends
457 books
|
249 friends
470 books
|
28 friends
43 books
|
2 friends
6 books
|
157 friends
182 books
|
52 friends
More friends…
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