A whirl of paper, a blast of sound, instruments buzzing, ringing phones,  the racing of people, cars, lights . . . days and nights.

Maintaining a steady course, in the midst of a social and materialistic catalyst for confusion.

What is there to hold onto?
A belief, a person, a group, a book, a lesson learned.

Climbing the mountain, ensuring that your hold will maintain, making sure not to slip, and with each step climbing higher and higher.

by Lauren Sweetland
4 March 2008

New Year 2008

Happy New Year 2008

We welcome in the new, pushing the old to the far corners of our minds.

Reach for a new day, and understand that this is your gift.

Love your friends and family, remembering that we are all together on this vast journey called life.

Admire nature, the beauty of the world around us, and respect it.

Take notice of other people’s creations and projects, for that is what builds our world.

by Lauren Sweetland

New Year's Rose - 2008photo by Lauren Sweetland taken Dec 31st 2007

Warning for Parents – By Eric Meyersfield

Eric is one of the most phenomenal people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. He showed me this poem in 2002 and I told him that all parents and kids should read this. He has an ability to impact people with his communication that is beyond anything I have known. The message is true.

The most gut wrenching cry that ever you heard,
Is frustration that follows the misunderstood word,
The child is restless and can’t sit quite still,
He’s nervous and angry and feeling quite ill.
He wants to go home or go play in the sand,
His pencil is shaking inside his right hand,
He’s blank and washed out and not present or there,
He’s kicking the desk and he’s pulling his hair,
He’s yawning, distracted and won’t settle down,
Instead of a student he’s now the class clown,
He can no longer read so he’s playing the fool,
He’s got no more attention or focus for school.
PLEASE make him look back – oh – a sentence or four,
And clear up the word so he’s bright and RESTORED!
If you don’t know the strength of a dictionary,
The psychiatrist will move in and SCREAM, “A.D.D.!”
Then watch as your child takes a nice little pill,
That darkens his spirit and dampens his will,
You’ll be sorry years later when he hasn’t a thrill,
Well look at it this way – at least he’ll sit still.
The lesson’s so easy it might seem absurd,
But all that needs fixing is ONE LITTLE WORD!
Do you hear me? You get it? Please tell me you heard:

Based on the Study Technology of L. Ron Hubbard


A light cast across the water.
I take a deep breath.
Pushing aside the deep thoughts of yesterday.
I look again to see the sun, trees, water and sky.
I realize it is a new day.
Another minute has passed.
Did I live or lay quietly in the shadows of my own past,
Or the images of what is to come,
Will I wait or will I march forward to triumph.

By Lauren Sweetland

Poem written by Eric Meyersfield

A face
From a place
I’ve never seen twice,
Twisting the chrome-plated armor,
From reality,
Bare bones,
All that you see,
Is in the open,
Nothing hidden in the depths or folds
of dark anxiety
And whispers of possibilities
Never realized or broken intention
Tangled mangled mess of insane wishes
Not you.
You just you just all of you.
Your hand reaches out into the
Mad haze of yesterwebs
As my brain crackles
Adusting to the new spin
Of the Earth’s axis
And in your hand is food
For my heart like energy
That keeps my feet walking
My hands talking
My soul, my soul, me
Never silent, quieted
By your intense kindness
Sleeping softly
In you care,
Between bouts of fits of
Thundertears and Underfears
The night is easier to stand up to
with your picture suspended
In front of my bloodshot ruined eyes.
And for a moment
You remind me
Of who I am
And all is calm
In my head.

by Eric Meyersfield
Feb 2004

I wrote this poem in 1995

I see a wall of colors bright.
There is a strength, some unkown light.

Seasons change blue to gray,
Time passes by as children play,
Memories past forgotten at last,
By the eve of the first school day.

I see the wall but cannot feel,
I see the wall but it is unreal,
Fun we think, forever lost,
Fun we think, but at whose cost,
To look upon with no insight,
that glow becomes a little less bright.

At times we look, but do not see,
What it takes to do …
then to be.