art ~ spirit ~ transformation

e*lix*ir   #11
Twin Birthdays 2020



Looking with the Eyes of Faith

e*lix*ir Poetry Collective

James Andrews
Harriet Fishman
Sandra Lynn Hutchison
A.E. Lefton
Imelda Maguire
YoungIn Doe


Remembered Music by Rumi, translated by Shahin Mowzoon

The Writing Life

The e*lix*ir Poetry Collective Writes the Creation by James Andrews


Love in a Time of Distances by Sandra Lynn Hutchison

Personal Reflections on Bahá’í Texts

A Finely-Tempered Sword by Melika Rezvani
Knowing God through His Creation by Nava Eslami


Fabric Art by Helen Butler


Ruhi & Riaz by Eira

Voices of Iran

An Army of Two Hundred Men by Ighan Aghdasi Yekta
The Goddess by Saba Sobhanian

Looking Back on Books

Rooms Are Never Finished by Agha Shahid Ali

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Bev Rennie


Forest Wisdom

We can learn a lot from trees —
the way they converse,
send each other nutrients
carbon and water along
latticed-fungi networks,
underground masses
of hyphae connecting
one root system to another
delivering what is needed.

In British Columbia, forests
of paper birch and Douglas fir
compete at first then learn to work
together, transferring carbon one
to another at just the right time

Perhaps this symbiotic relationship
is the forest wisdom we humans need —
the wisdom of sharing food and water
so all can thrive and become entwined,
one with another, in a filigree of love


speckled brown bark
 covers this deeply etched tree
  its curling chips break easily
   along plaits braided
    by uneven seasons
     telling stories of
       drought and storms
          a rounded knob
            of nose peeks
              through boughs
                smoothed over
                  from years of weather
                    but sharp clean cuts
                      prove a deliberate hand
                        severed these limbs
                          maybe disease, dead branches,
                            perhaps to force new growth
                            or a tree lover seeking symmetry
                              loss is never easy
                            but the lush green
                            makes it all worthwhile
                            pruning, seemingly
                          harsh at the time,
                        brings forth fuller fruit
                      and a woodsy cloud of musk
                    more fragrant than I can imagine.
            birds swoop
         among leafy
     sunlight boughs
cradling me
 for the letting go
of the long familiar
            I am ready now to embrace
                  the discomfort of fresh awareness
                        will welcome the blade
                            accept the necessary pain
                                  to reach my whole measure

Harriet Fishman

Artist Statement:   I am inspired by the turning of nature’s seasons, especially spring and fall. To see life rise from the dead ground, buds appear on drab sticks, a purple crocus peeking through winter snow. When autumn breezes rattle through leaves, I feel an excitement, as if heavenly messengers are visiting, whispering thoughts in a language only my heart understands. Golden afternoons in the garden are a blessing. Pulling weeds becomes a meditation on what I need to pull from my own life — to make room for growth. I want to capture the nobility of ordinary life, to shine light on this spiritual journey.

Bio:   Since retiring as a library media specialist, Harriet Fishman has been able to pursue her childhood passion for poetry and the arts. She embraced the Bahá’í Faith at an early age and is deeply committed to sharing its healing message of unity and peace. Harriet enjoys growing vegetables and flowers and creating a backyard natural habitat, which keeps her very busy. She has two grown sons, both teachers, who practice the arts.