life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

wonder

You only owe love a chance to grow

– rumi

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into deep waters

some days there are no poems

made of words

just the sight of Poseidon

filling my mind

my eyes

my soul

from the ground

from the sand

through the fog

it is enough

poems come in many fine forms

today’s is an extraordinarily well written one

❤️

Amy Lloyd

backwards & forwards

Library of Celsus in Ephesus

via: http://bit.ly/2mDRAzM

When the sooty corners of our dark night

absorb into porcelain skin at last

leaving it a whole new shade of refined

When the geese in their skeined wedge take another enchanted voyage across the endless blue

When we wake up to this new day

loving life in spite of all that has gone before

When the one who loves us allows us joy in our exile

until we are ready to break our silent bread

When we allow the challenging heaviness of our limiting beliefs to enter into our arena wrestling until we have achieved Olympic gold

When we trust the great freedom of what has brought us to this very moment

When the wine of our heart

in it’s purest burgundy of bubbling merry or deepest sorrow

pours clear and jeweled in its crushing

When we give away freely our best crimson to everyone we meet at this royal wedding

When we finally recognize the truth that there is no journey of arriving

there is simply life

this grandest celebration of skin touching skin

the sharing of moments

the wonder of storytelling

the ancient ancestral linage of our tree-relations

the wonder of teaching and tasting and exploring

coffee and kisses and learning any odd/old/new thing with the ones you love

then we have arrived at our true work

the why we have sought so desperately to uncover for so long

lying crumpled and useless in the trash can

as we, a bit drunk, on our own exquisite vintage

make love to the world in blissful ecstasy

shhhh…there are new songs playing

listen…

just listen…

to Dark Star…live

In this world…

a new dead-head is born

I’m so glad there is you

🎷

Amy Lloyd

what a difference a day makes

I

In the evening, love returns,

Like a wand’rer ’cross the sea;

In the evening, love returns

With a violet for me;

In the evening, life’s a song,

And the fields are full of green;

All the stars are golden crowns,

And the eye of God is keen.

II

In the evening, sorrow dies

With the setting of the sun;

In the evening, joy begins,

When the course of mirth is done;

In the evening, kisses sweet

Droop upon the passion vine;

In the evening comes your voice:

“I am yours, and you are mine.”

💞

In the Evening by Fenton Johnson

Tomorrow I get a window

to sleep beside

a whiff of fresh air

blowing curtains

a square of rounded sunlight

to begin my days

Tomorrow I get a path

to the ocean

a few steps away

seagulls and surf

a whole bunch of sand

to lighten my way

Tomorrow I get a place

for this moment

a family to help

a new one to assist

friends to be made

a new place to stay

Tomorrow I take a step

into my own life

a way to begin

it’s really a start

just one tiny step forward

from these feet made of clay

❤️

Amy Lloyd

THE GEOGRAPHY OF DESTINY

Many different strands of your past experience begin to weave together until gradually the new direction announces itself. Its voice is sure with the inevitability of the truth. When your life-decisions emerge in this way from the matrix of your experience, they warrant your trust and commitment. When you can choose in this way, you move gracefully within the deeper rhythm of your soul. The geography of your destiny is always clearer to the eye of your soul than to the intentions and needs of your surface mind.

John O’Donohue

Excerpt from ETERNAL ECHOES

The clouds keep finding their way into the shape of hearts

Oh, those beauteous clouds, in that soul aching cinema-sky

I feast, like the country girl I am

morning and evening I offer my prayers as easy breath

I walk as gift in gift

I cleanse

I clear

I gather

I call

I calm

I glow

I glitter

I shine

I commemorate

I celebrate

I light fires

I hallelujah all over my day

I let go of the old

as I enter full into new territory

I sing it over and over,

It’s good to be alive

right about now (uh huh)

💞

Amy Lloyd

 

 

Insecurity wants us to keep track of our failures; grace doesn’t even write them down.

– Bob Goff

embrace your inner goddess 😉

I turned my head (10 years later)

the day after you lose someone is often the hardest day…

you wake up thinking they are in their bedroom,

sleeping on their pillow,

or safe in their crib,

that surely they are going to pop open the bedroom door and say,

” Hey mom…”

the numb has set in,

the prayers are bleeding through your body…

reality is somewhere ” out there” in another time and place…

God walks up and down the hallways by your side…

Surely it is safe to leave the planet for the next few weeks

while you sort out

fumble through

forget about,

walk up and down the grocery aisles,

filter through the rage…

review the rules of compassion…

write the 10 Commandments down on paper…

though you know them by heart

sing songs in your car as you head to the hospital

to visit a good friend struggling through another day of chemo…

push the button on the CD player to number 5

” Somebody prayed for me,

they had me on their minds…

they took the time to pray for me…

I’m so very glad,

I’m so very glad,

I’m so very glad

they prayed for me.”

( Sweet Honey in the Rock)

my internal overload button on high

memories pushing the pain trauma

my thoughts turning to the notebooks filled with

wisdom and relaxation rituals…

There was a before…

and there is always an after…

There is always a “getting through”

and a substance to hold onto…

I call that substance God…

All the children of the world

are each of ours…

they may not have names we know

but they do indeed have hearts the same as our children,

those we love and adore…they too are our own flesh and blood…

Yesterday, we lost 17 more of our children…

we gave them over without even knowing when we woke up

in the morning,

we thought it was an ordinary day…

Trauma is often difficult to sort out…

there are stages and warnings

there is loneliness and rage…

Don’t be alone,

sit with a friend,

cry your tears…

drink lots of water…

watch your body for signs of ” too much”

find a road that leads you nowhere and walk it..

swim in a pool,

water is soothing to the broken heart.

Hold yourself gently and with compassion..

Beauty,

Rev. Donna Knutson

what are you willing to suffer for?

https://youtu.be/EYrTqBioaZ4

Passion literally means to suffer. Love is always simply choosing: Who am I willing to suffer for?

Real love always really leads to death — death of self and death of the loved one — and then real love always goes on forever and ever without end.

– Ann Voskamp

Days like this

Love wants to forgive

Love wants to connect

Love wants to be intimate

Love wants to reflect the beauty

Love wants to want

Love wants to prosper

Love wants discipline without abuse

Love wants to speak truth

Love wants the highest and best

Love wants to be valued

Love wants to express

Love wants to trust

Love wants to believe

Love wants to experience

Love wants to explore

Love wants to share

Love wants you to heal

Love wants both parts of the gift: giving and receiving

Love wants to seek

Love wants to allow

Love wants to be safe

Love wants to dance

Love wants to sing

Love wants to grow

Love wants to breathe

Love wants to see inside

Love wants to be in the arena

Love wants to absorb

Love wants you to be unique

Love wants you to know better so you can do better

Love wants to play and be your great adventure

Love wants to be equal but not interchangeable

Love wants to be chosen over and over

Love wants to be the answer

Love wants us to see through the illusion

Love wants you to open the door

Love really, really, really wants to come in

💞

Amy Lloyd & Robin OK

The pain may not be your fault but the healing is your responsibility

Start by pulling him out of the fire and

hoping that he will forget the smell.

He was supposed to be an angel but they took him

from that light and turned him into something hungry,

something that forgets what his hands are for when they

aren’t shaking.

He will lose so much, and you will watch it all happen

because you had him first, and you would let the world

break its own neck if it means keeping him.

Start by wiping the blood off of his chin and

pretending to understand.

Repeat to yourself

“I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you”

until you fall asleep and dream of the place

where nothing is red.

When is a monster not a monster?

Oh, when you love it.

Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.

Here are your upturned hands.

Give them to him and watch how he prays

like he is learning his first words.

Start by pulling him out of another fire,

and putting him back together with the pieces

you find on the floor.

There is so much to forgive, but you do not

know how to forget.

When is a monster not a monster?

Oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.

Here is your humble offering,

obliterated and broken in the mouth

of this abandoned church.

He has come back to stop the world

from turning itself inside out, and you love him, you do,

so you won’t let him.

Tell him that you will never know any better.

Pretend to understand why that isn’t good enough.

💫

Start Here by Caitlyn Siehl

There is a time and place in the world for abstraction. When my mother left Puerto Rico for the first time, the year was 1968. Against my unknowing. We hesitate to say what intimacy is and whether or not we have it. I keep trying / to teach my students that / stream-of-consciousness is / this, not that / this / activity fails. We know it does because each of us leaves the room / feeling like barbed wire— snarling behind the barricade (because) at some point, we stopped feeling (like language could say). So we went without while some others embraced. Notice (after the emptiness) : a pain that is not private. In other words, focus not on the object, but rather, the light that bounces off of that object. Perforated. Estranged. Esa luz. Tómatela. Under that light° I felt my body try / to hold on (to the knot inside) your right hand; when did it become a fist? Remind me what it is again / what it is that you wish / to share (with others) >> when you’re on stage…

°That light, this pain (what never translates).

💫

A Pain That is not Private by Lara Mimosa Montes

After this and that

Before the next and hereafter

I fell in love with the shadow of a beautiful soul

within a busted bone frame

made of finest porcelain without

but sheltered from within by the twisted logic

of angry words held hostage

from learned bigotry and class structures

from the beginning of our need for ruling

and so and so

just so and for so long

because of

in case of

ideas held tightly

what the world must be

in order to provide safety

to ones inherited abuse

keeping cover through vast accumulation

I began again to learn

a new thing or two

concerning heartbreak

and it’s benefits

how sometimes those choices keep us

where we are supposed to be

and give us opportunities to fly and flourish

without the prison walls of another

without seeing all the way into Dante’s vision of hell

(just a small glimpse kept me gasping for air for years)

I begin, again, to re-define the word wealth

and realize love, that is pure love

doesn’t change

but does allow

for a transmutation of the grief

into a kind of sacred learning

a new way of dancing with myself

and as my world softly shifts

into this newly understood place

within my freshly tenderized heart

watered by the tears of plenty

of days of loss

wrestling and rumbling

with my need for connection

my desire to be seen by a beauty,

that even tho hidden from itself,

is still so glorious.

I wake up to this new day

knowing anything is possible

to those who believe

I am expecting something good to happen

because it always does

the light is on in the hallway

revealing the titles from my bookshelves:

One Thousand Gifts/Ann Voskamp

Eager to Love/Richard Rohr

Rising Strong/Brené Brown

The Invitation/Oriah

Beauty/John O’Donohue

Consolations/David Whyte

It hits me how true the scriptures,

‘You are what you think about’

These writings color my path with grace

I think about these things

I am always becoming new

and I bow deep

as I breathe into this amazing diamond of a day

💎

Amy Lloyd

connection cannot happen without giving and receiving on both sides

a new dimension of self-care

she was found herdless,

(1)

she was found herdless, impatient,

imbalanced yin yang black blue

white purple yellow green

yin yang black blue white yellow green

her true soul tribe has vanished

before the ivory towers collapsed,

leading more of her soul

to be shattered

much more than she had planned,

or had ever dreamed

that was just how it happened

it happened to push all her buttons

those of inadequacy, and failure,

disappointment, and cancelled appointments

not excluding nor excusing

the man she trusted,

(2)

so here is a cure for chipped winter nails,

just a little womanly talking behind

closed lavender scented doors, and

high ceilings, where only rage could

make it

up the slithery

monochromatic flamingo pink walls,

and deep sage curtains

floor tiles anyone could see:

would see her self fanning,

a flagellate in the making

from a hot flash

so soon

after the red sea

dried on thee, she

still could run at a clip–

fearless of a flicker of thunder

pensive in the land of down under

(3)

her piano fingers needed

her nails really short

and unpolished–

so not to feel them,

while tapping

caca-phony on the ivories

that a balanced yin/yang

was to be

found in more natural pastures,

tapping harmony on the ivories

words~~ kate lamberg (c) ’18

HEARTBREAK is unpreventable; the natural outcome of caring for people and things over which we have no control, of holding in our affections those who inevitably move beyond our line of sight.

Heartbreak begins the moment we are asked to let go but cannot, in other words, it colors and inhabits and magnifies each and every day; heartbreak is not a visitation, but a path that human beings follow through even the most average life. Heartbreak is an indication of our sincerity: in a love relationship, in a life’s work, in trying to learn a musical instrument, in the attempt to shape a better more generous self.

Heartbreak is the beautifully helpless side of love and affection and is just as much an essence and emblem of care as the spiritual athlete’s quick but abstract ability to let go. Heartbreak has its own way of inhabiting time and its own beautiful and trying patience in coming and going.

Heartbreak is how we mature; yet we use the word heartbreak as if it only occurs when things have gone wrong: an unrequited love, a shattered dream, a child lost before their time. Heartbreak, we hope, is something we hope we can avoid; something to guard against, a chasm to be carefully looked for and then walked around; the hope is to find a way to place our feet where the elemental forces of life will keep us in the manner to which we want to be accustomed and which will keep us from the losses that all other human beings have experienced without exception since the beginning of conscious time. But heartbreak may be the very essence of being human, of being on the journey from here to there, and of coming to care deeply for what we find along the way.

…If heartbreak is inevitable and inescapable, it might be asking us to look carefully for it and to make friends with it, to see it as our constant and instructive companion, and strangely perhaps, in the depth of its impact as well as in its hindsight, to see it as its own reward.

Heartbreak asks us not to look for an alternative path, because there is no alternative path. It is a deeper introduction to what we love and have loved, an inescapable and often beautiful question, something or someone who has been with us all along, asking us to be ready for the last letting go.

‘HEARTBREAK’ In CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press 2015

I keep finding pieces of myself…

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