Locations:
Dr. Bullington has relocated overseas and is currently working with multiple luxury hotels, spas, and wellness centers globally. He is based on the island of Koh Samui, Thailand. If you are interested in a wellness holiday, please contact to inquire about his availability.
The Layers
I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind, as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me.
In my darkest night, when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: "Live in the layers, not on the litter."
Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
~Stanley Kunitz~
I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind, as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me.
In my darkest night, when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: "Live in the layers, not on the litter."
Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
~Stanley Kunitz~