Category Archives: Dan Windisch Poems

Ribs of wooden deck chairs.

Ribs of wooden deck chairs
By Dan Windisch
June 3, 2017
On the Queen Mary 2

 On the wet, empty, reflecting,
Teak walking deck,
of the Queen Mary 2, 
in Mid Atlantic,

Ribs of wooden deck chairs,
face into the early-morning dense fog.

While gentle rolling ocean waves,
roll by. 

Beauty in the photographs details: Hollyhock Chair Boat

There is so much in this photograph that I love.

The place itself I love. It is the Hollyhock Retreat center on Cortes Island in British Columbia, a beautiful, remote, and Magical, Transformative place, especially in the summertime. I first went there in 1978 And attended a 13 week long Resident fellow program with a different workshop each week. I attended a dream workshop where I learned that I was Dan, Dan, The rainbow man, a healer and a teacher. And for the last 45 years, I’ve lived being a Healer and a teacher. I learned about Quan Yen (or Kuan Yin),The bodhisattva of compassion. I learned it from John Blofeld, that Very British China convert, Who wrote so beautifully about Quan Yen (or Kuan Yin), and also  translated the I Ching. John Blofeld so enjoyed his afternoon tea :). I learned about the I Ching, and Tarot cards. And I learned from the wind, the trees, low and high tides, I learned from the lapping of the water, BJ, Whiskey and orange juice, early morning sunshine, the wonderful gardens, and even more wonderful vegetarian meals. I learned by working with Bill Glackman, now a lifetime friend, doing handyman work around the then COld Mountain Institute.

But what do I love about this picture! I love the early morning light, with the side-light and long shadows. I love the empty chair and the empty boat, both waiting for us/me/you.

I can feel myself sitting in that chair, with my eyes closed, warm, with the sunshine on my face and arms in the cool morning, and ever so gently, I feel a slight breeze. With each breath, I breathe in the light, salty smells of the sea. I hear the gentle lapping of water on the beach. I hear the bird calls of morning,  welcoming the new day. That chair is a place to simply be, mindfully and appreciatively.

The empty boat, red and white and waiting, Is not about mindfulness. The empty boat is about adventure awaiting! Come,Let us row away to adventure! Morning is the time for both contemplation and beginning of adventures! I love that in this photograph.

I love the colors, the greens of the grass and the tree. I love the shades of blues in the sea, and in the mountains across the sea.  I love the bands of lighter color blue on the water.

I love how small I am in that early morning light, And how big that quiet sea is,  and how the shrouded mountains are at the top the photograph.

I love the lines of the small waves, lapping towards the shore.

I love the juxtaposition of the living Green tree, the stump, and the wooden chair. Three stages of existence?

I love the variations between the rocky shore, The tidal zone with it’s small rocks and mud , and the two big rocks In the nearby shallow water.

When I look at this picture, I feel gratitude, the hopes of a new morning, The beckoning of mindfulness and adventure, and the sheer beauty of it all: colors, bands of blue and green, and waves, sea, trees, shore, chair, boat, and distant mountains… and ME!

Dan Poem: A Rose arose from the Dank Dark Dirt

A Rose arose from the dank,Dark, Dirt
by Dan Windisch

A  red and yellow and shining white rose
from the

It faded
and Fell,
and became,

A rose
from the

“Angel” stained glass Driehaus Gallery Navy Pier Chicago

This is another stained glass from the Driehaus Gallery of Stained Glass on the Navy Pier in Chicago taken in 1986 with details from the same photograph.

I’ve always loved angels and this is such a wonderful depiction!

I start with the closest view of the angel.

Angel (I?)
by Dan Windisch 2016

The angels curly hair caresses, and rests quietly, gently, on her shoulders.
She has pensive, unfocused, thoughtful eyes.
Her left arm rests against one railing,
her left hand rests, gently, on another railing.


Her right arm is relaxed, by her side,
with her fingers caressing the tip of one iridescent, shining wing,
fingers that can only feel,
but not see,
the wings iridescent, shining beauty
as she also lifts her gown
to rise,
from one step,
to yet a higher step.

Yet her foot

One last, gentle touch of the familiar.

Before rising to the next step.

I listened to the talkings of wind rustled trees

I listened  to the talkings of wind rustled trees
Jubilee Trail poem
by Dan Windisch 7/3/16

I listened  to the talkings
of wind rustled trees,
the who who hooting of owls
far away,
the clop clop clopping
of my shoes on the trail.

5 rabbits hop hop hopping,
2 deer gently, grazing, gliding.

One deer looked up,
looked me straight in the eye,
then returned,
to grazing.

On being the eyes of God, observing, sliding into, exalting with, His/Her Beauty

On being the eyes of God, observing, sliding into, exalting with, His/Her Beauty.
by Dan Windisch 12/16/15

can be
(and there are so many moments in my life when I have been, and eternally in that moment
the created for,
loved by,
and surrounded with
Love and Peace and BEAUTY. 

Yet Capital I and little i, and we,
so sadly, and so often, are not quite feeling it.

Like busy bees,
with a celestial orchestra  just beyond my/our hearing range,
that we hum and hymn when our brains quiet down.
Where did I hear that before?
And why does it make me smile with the Beauty, and Joy, and Love of It?

 Like a touch so soft in our dreams from our Beautiful LOVE
that we just can’t quite feel when we awaken, yet we know is there,
and that makes us smile,
not knowing why,
before we slide into the busy-ness, business of the day.

I love it when I especially,
am in that Special moment, or minute (and eternally),
am consciously aware that
I truly (and perhaps only)
the eyes and ears, of God,
observing, sliding into, and exalting with,
His/Her/Our Beauty and Love.

Mystical moments,
that remind me truly who I am.

Dan Poem: “When our stars twinkle out”

In my walk this morning as the stars twinkled out, I thought of Aaron and wrote this poem in memory of him.

When our stars twinkle out
(in memory of Aaron)
by Dan Windisch

When our stars
twinkle out
in the mornings,
(our mournings),
hard light.

they are still there.
Never gone.
Simply Waiting,
to be seen again,
in the next

Gleaming! Glittering! Bright!

And how can you find your twinkled out stars,
among all those billions of stars?

Find them near.

Their bright star,


next to yours.