life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “grace”

awareness is the key to change 

I tell my father about the way 

I collect small things

in the sacs of my heart—

thick juniper berries

apple cores that retain their shape

and the click of shells

that sound like an oven baking.

He presses the mole on my shoulder

that matches his shoulder,

proof that I was not found

at the bottom of the sea.

I also got his feet, far from

Cinderella’s dainty glass slippers

—
and fingers, too wide for most

Cracker Jack wedding rings.

I read how some mammals never

forget their young—

their speckled spots, odd goat

cries, or birthmarks on curved ivory tusks. 

There must be some

thread of magic there

cooling honey to stone—where

like recognizes like or how

a rib seeks its twin.

🙋🏼🙋🏼

A Taste of Blue by Cynthia Manick


Our survival adaptations are so tough, but our wounds are so delicate. To heal, we have to lift the armor carefully- it saved our lives, after all. It’s like moving your best friend off to the side of the path. You don’t trample on her, you don’t hit her with a sledgehammer. You honor her presence like a warm blanket that has kept you safe and sound during wintry times. And then, when the moment is right, you get inside and stitch your wounds with the thread of love, slowly and surely, not rushing to completion, nurturing as you weave, tender and true. The healing process has a heart of its own, moving at its own delicate pace. We are such wondrous weavers…

💞

 – Jeff Brown


TO STAND HERE
is to stand

at the center

of circle 

after growing circle

and reach

in the mind

for a far circumference

that holds as focus

an interior so far in

so concentrated

with origin

we find ourselves

by looking out

at what looks back,

the lighted edge 

of rock and sky,

the sweet

unmoving darkness

over the horizon 

that makes

a perfect 

beckoning symmetry

to the night

beneath our feet,

the underground

where light cannot live

but whose darkness

makes a ground 

on which to stand.
The central 

ancestral story

of those who

lived here

looking out

at the same horizon

and the same 

surrounding

ground,

who saw a world

that witnessed them

at a privileged 

center,

their lives caught

like ours

in the glance

of what lies beyond

only 

for a fleeting

moment.

From LON’S FORT

From Pilgrim: Poems by David Whyte


Refuse to fall down

If you cannot refuse to fall down,

refuse to stay down.

If you cannot refuse to stay down,

lift your heart toward heaven,

and like a hungry beggar, 

ask that it be filled. 

You may be pushed down.

You may be kept from rising.

But no one can keep you from lifting your heart

toward heaven

only you.

It is in the middle of misery

that so much becomes clear.

The one who says nothing good

came of this, 

is not yet listening.

–Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.

   – Mahatma Gandhi


I’m not here to live up to your expectations and you’re not here to live up to mine. 

    – Bruce Lee

Advertisements

world changer 

You have to go through the falling down in order to learn to walk. It helps to know that you can survive it. That’s an education in itself.

    – Carol Burnett

A KEY TO HAPPINESS — SPIRITUAL HUMILITY

So many religions and philosophies, ancient and modern, set forth paths to happiness, fulfillment and the end of suffering. Many of these paths are filled with great wisdom and deep spiritual insights that have helped countless people throughout the ages. I have been inspired by so many of these spiritual traditions; and I have learned so many hard lessons though my own inner struggles and challenges, as we all have. Consistent with so many of the spiritual traditions, I have found that one of the keys to happiness and finding a deep spiritual connection is cultivating a spiritual humility — reaching beyond our egos as best we can by quieting our minds with a bit of wisdom, by opening our hearts to a bit of unconditional loving-kindness, and by expressing a bit of gratitude for the light and wonder that has been given and that touches us even in the dark times.
1. WISDOM AND THE INTERDEPENDENCE OF ALL EXISTENCE. We — and all of life — are interconnected in a vast and boundless divine tapestry. Our belief that we have a separate, “fixed” self is a delusion that cuts us off from the flow of life and the interdependence of all things. We are nothing but a wondrous part of a larger, interwoven whole. To see all this, even a little, leaves us humble, but also touches us with a deep wisdom that we are connected at our core to something so much greater than we can imagine.
2. THE INNER SPIRIT. As a part of that greater whole, we are truly children of God, at one with the divine essence. Yet, when we come into this world at birth, we put on a limited and fragile ego mask that we wear throughout our lives, believing that the mask is our real self and forgetting our true, inner spirit that is a part of the greater divine radiance. So, we struggle to keep this mask-self safe, closing our eyes to the flow of the divine presence through our lives. Seeing all of this, even a little, we begin to see the futility and childishness of so many of our self-important dramas; and, with the resulting humility, we begin to let go of the ego games and begin instead to focus humbly and joyously on our connection to others and to the greater divine reality. 
3. JUDGE NOT. Looking with an open heart at the cosmos, we may begin to see, even if dimly, the presence of a boundless divine power that supports all of existence, guiding the planets in their orbits, causing the flowers to grow, holding all of the law of physics in the palm of a hand, and supporting our very existence. But, when we grasp after our ego-mask self, and forget our own inner spirit and its connection to the greater divine presence, we begin to make judgments, limiting and defining God, ourselves and each other. We think that we know better — indeed, we think we “know” what is really going on — but the mystery and wonder of existence is beyond any knowing. We do not know, for instance, the truth of another person and where he or she is on the spiritual path. Indeed, we do not even know who we are ourselves. How, then, can we presume to judge others and where they stand in God’s plan? How can we truly judge ourselves? And, even more importantly, how can we judge God, the ineffable foundation of all existence and non-existence? Seeing all this, even a little, we can only begin to humbly let go of our limited, ego-based judgments and open our minds and hearts to a gentle faith in the divine, in ourselves, and in each other. 
4. SPIRITUAL PRACTICE. So, how do we come to see all of the above and cultivate a joyous spiritual humility? Each must find their own way. For me, it come from a gentle spiritual practice: 
(a) First, I try to be mindful of the interconnection of all life, as well as of the impermanence and transience of my own ego-mask self. Then, with a little inner quiet and stillness, I try to watch for the presence of ineffable wonder; I listen for the quiet whispers of my own inner spirit; and I open my heart to the rumblings and reflections of the presence of a boundless God beyond all knowing or grasping.
(b) Next, each day I try to practice a little kindness and unconditional love, as best I can and with as much wisdom as I can muster, quietly shining some light in the darkness on myself and those around me. We all can open a window in our hearts to the divine and let the divine presence shine through us, as if through a glass darkly — but we can polish that glass each day to let in more and more light.
(c) I judge God, myself and others so much. So, I practice not judging by being mindful of how much I do judge, and examining how much of that judgment comes from my own arrogance or insecurity. I then think about the the mystery and power of the divine presence — and the preciousness and miracle of all life, including my own — and stop for a moment and acknowledge, as best I can, that the divine presence is boundless in ways I cannot begin to fathom or judge.    
(d) Finally, I try to find reasons to be grateful: for the presence of wonder, wisdom and light, even in the darkness; for the preciousness of my own life and that of others; and for the blessings, sometimes hidden, that grace my life. There are so many opportunities to express that gratitude to those around me through words and deeds; and to God in my prayers and in the songs of my heart. Finally, I try to express gratitude to myself in the words I use in speaking to myself. We all can begin to appreciate more our own inner, luminous spirits. Humility in the face of the overwhelming wonder of the universe may cause us to begin letting go of our ego games, but it also opens our vision up to the magnificence of the cosmos and to the luminous wonder of our place in it.
Simple Inner Truth by Steven Jay




words and eye above by Jen Lemen 

where’ve you been? 

The rising moon has hid the stars;

Her level rays, 

like golden bars,
       

Lie on the landscape green,
     

 With shadows brown between.
And silver white the river gleams,

As if Diana, in her dreams,
     

 Had dropt her silver bow
       

Upon the meadows low.
On such a tranquil night as this,

She woke Endymion with a kiss,
       

When, sleeping in the grove,
       

He dreamed not of her love.
Like Dian’s kiss, 

unasked, unsought,

Love gives itself, but is not bought;
       

Her voice, nor sound betrays
      

 Its deep, impassioned gaze.
It comes,

—the beautiful, the free,

The crown of all humanity,—
     

  In silence and alone
      

 To seek the elected one.
It lifts the boughs, 

whose shadows deep,

Are Life’s oblivion, the soul’s sleep,
       

And kisses the closed eyes
     

  Of him, who slumbering lies.
O, weary hearts! O, slumbering eyes!

O, drooping souls, whose destinies
       

Are fraught with fear and pain,
       

Ye shall be loved again!
No one is so accursed by fate,

No one so utterly desolate,
    

   But some heart, though unknown,
       

Responds unto his own.
Responds,

—as if with unseen wings,

A breath from heaven had touched its strings
    

   And whispers, in its song,
      

“Where hast though stayed so long!”

😍
  – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


I’ll always want to drive with you.

I’ll always want to trace 

all the corners of the world 

with my own bare hands. 

We’ll whirl by the exits like flight. 

Like wind. 

Two birds collecting stories. 

Breaking all cages. 

Chasing our whims.

Maybe we could leave tonight

without falling far behind

we’ll shed our pain and armor

and be in this music,

these dreams, 

these roads.

Yours and mine.

We’ll find the center 

of everything

and we will ride.

We’ll just drive.

🚘

by Victoria Erickson, Writer



the wild & salty now 


Welcome and entertain them all

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

🏡

Parker J. Palmer with a light-hearted metaphor from Rumi — on the unexpected visitor and welcoming her in, serendipitous chaos and all.


I paddled a small boat

through wind and waves in the open sea,

the wind wanting to wipe me sideways,

waves lurching me about,

the constant pressing, the effort, 

the all aloneness of it,

a little dot in an ocean wide of green,

the struggle so welcome, so satisfying,
because I was there. 
I have climbed mountains and hiked deserts,

raised children and journeyed through a marriage

simply to be there.
You have swung the hammer, sewed the seams, 

taken the bus, changed the diapers,

recovered from the illness, done the time.

You run races, you wash dishes,

you row your body through its failings,

you work the work of youth or of aging,

you put your shoulder to it.

Even in prayer’s stillness

you go the distance.
This is the holy pilgrimage:

to meet the given day.

You give yourself to this moment as it is,

hand to hand, all in,

and beyond all accomplishment

you are given the gift 

of this life.

You come home with salt in your hair

and a whole wide sea in your heart. 

      
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


Yesterday afternoon I watched Kate Hudson die in her movie,

A Bit of Heaven,

and I thought about how important our little bit of time is here on this earth. 

The vast importance of now! 

To never hold back sharing our love,

our bit of time here with the ones we love. 

This morning, as I scrolled through my Facebook feed,

I read posts from various friends,

anniversaries of loss. 

The shock of too young loss. 

The bewilderment of unexpected loss. 

The anger of longing for the love loss. 

Missing persons. 

Persons missing persons. 

I listened to the music these friends shared. 

Music chosen in a very personal, intimate way,

helping them deal, 

bringing them comfort,

tapping into their passion, 

their anger,

their extreme feelings,

their great oceans of emotion. 

Music helping them allow,

helping them to move,

helping them release,

as they remain here, feeling left and bereft. 

Music. Always music. 

I cried with them, 

for them,

for my own tsunami of losses. 

As their music poured into me,

I felt their particular loss, 

and I stood along side them and held them in love. 

I honor the grieving hearts of the world. 

I honor the gift, and power, of music. 

🎼

Amy Lloyd (AL)


Blackness becomes you!  – Fred LaMotte   


At the end of your chanted path,

where the desert becomes the sea,

when you arrive your

songs are already here.

They greet you with silence

and you learn your name.

The rainbow curves toward darkness.

The surface of every sphere

tilts into its vacuum, pours

a golden yolk into raven wings.

Now make a new body of your brave

annihilation, weightless as a flame.

And tell me, dancing tongue of fire,

don’t you prefer the night?

Blackness becomes you.

🔥

Alfred K LaMotte


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 that saxophone…

In this world

I’m so glad there is you

🎷

Amy Lloyd (AL)


No matter how dark the clouds seem, they are only clouds. The sun is always shining, the sky is always light blue. The clouds are just droplets of water, gathered together to tease people who don’t remember the truth.

– Chris Collins


grace has a liberal bias  


Most of life begins with a whisper ..a sigh that slips through the unconscious mind, the bridge between human and divine… raising the bar… giving us jiggle room to live a different kind of life…..there are no notes any more. Wisdom on paper, wisdom in blood. 

Nothing more than thin layers dividing land from the sea, a clear lane that resides between ethereal sound and make believe. Peter Pan, a ship in the sky, a way to live enchanted, before the mystery flies over…beyond the eye…and heaven looks like…feels like…sounds like…smells like…a way through where nothing is divided.  
Breathing God takes concentration, purity runs like…peach juice down the chin; laughter from a child; finding honey on the tongue as ordinary …dressing in robes no one can see, and purple, drapes nicely in the heat of the day…some will say it is only play, and a new day begins with thin sheets of invisible…wide roads of possible, milky white and radiant.
Stepping into, standing beside, claiming victory, ignoring nothing other than the speed in which you die. Born for this…

to be alchemy and dreamer all at the same time… tantalized by burning through layers while walking the streets catching whiffs of perfume…Julian of Norwich no further down the road than a few hundred years and I can still hear her saying…”this God of yours walks in mysterious ways, I’ve heard it too….” and the sunrise begins to taint the Nebraska sky…a slight puff of cloud coverage begins on the edge, a yellow hue…prayers slip through the heart space, between kingdoms of glory and powers of might…I call on all the guidance that waits nearby…and another holy day begins. The world within the world. 
 Beauty,

 Donna Knutson



I step softly into this day

a bit raw

a bit salty

I sit with my understanding 

I stare into the abyss between

I uncover the wound to feel the morning air

I gently touch what is exposed

I sing over it

I let it go

I allow this hard thing to be the right

I do not see it all

I see enough

I walk forward with my longtime companion, 

Beauty, in all she is,

attends my walking,

never disappoints,

she keeps my heart soft,

gives me hope in the smug places. 

I am ever aware and grateful 

🌸

Amy Lloyd (AL)

…and in the time remaining…all I wish you is love…

the space between breaths


All that you touch, you change. All that you change, changes you.

    – Octavia E. Butler


fierce surrender
relentlessly engaged
In a loud and howling world, it’s in the silence of a broken heart that the chambers of you can hear the sound of God speaking. It’s in the emptiness that happens in the wake of a broken heart, that God fills you with Himself.
Soundlessly, relentlessly praying through your spaces of brokenness makes the heart bigger, until you hold the gift of God alone.
I memorize the white of the moon. Freeze frame the Farmer grinning in the white light of it there on the tractor seat, the peak of his feed cap pulled low over his face. We get to inhale. We get to live every day like it might be our last —- because one of these days, we’re guaranteed to be right.
We get to surrender to the glory, to the weight of it coming through the thinning sky, and there’s nothing in this world that’s normal — there’s only growing blind to the glory. There’s only growing blind to the injustice, to the blood on our own hands, to the love we could make, to the One who says, “Holy Father, keep them in Your name…. —- that they may be one, even as we are one” (John ‪17:11‬) to the truth that we all belong to one another. It’s the cynics who wear armour to shield the heart from all this beauty that wounds.
You are perishable here.

Taste the moments accordingly.
Taste the space between every breath like it is bread, the space between the stars where you and he are just for now, the space between you and faces you love and being here no more, the spaces between the pain, between you and streets of grief, between you and injustice and war and mothers cradling their babies in fear, and learn to love before it’s too late. I need to etch that into me.
You are perishable here, Taste the moments accordingly —

You get to decide whether you are going to taste it, all of it and know that God is good and enjoy Him and make your life about others tasting His goodness too.
You get to decide whether you’re going to spend your one life trying to make an impression and look good —  or make a difference and do good.
You don’t get long here before you get to be a memory — so make your life about getting thirsty people glasses of water.

💧

    – Ann Voskamp

blog: aholyexperience.com


Isaiah 6
There were banks of candles flickering in the distance and clouds of incense thickening the air with holiness and stinging his eyes, and high above him, as if it had always been there but was only now seen for what it was (like a face in the leaves of a tree or a bear among the stars), there was the Mystery Itself, whose gown was the incense and the candles a dusting of gold at the hem. There were winged creatures shouting back and forth the way excited children shout to each other when dusk calls them home, and the whole vast, reeking place started to shake beneath his feet like a wagon going over cobbles, and he cried out, “O God, I am done for! I am foul of mouth and the member of a foul-mouthed race. With my own two eyes I have seen him. I’m a goner and sunk.” Then one of the winged things touched his mouth with fire and said, “There, it will be all right now,” and the Mystery Itself said, “Who will it be?” and with charred lips he said, “Me,” and Mystery said “Go.”
Mystery said, “Go give the deaf hell till you’re blue in the face and go show the blind heaven till you drop in your tracks, because they’d sooner eat ground glass than swallow the bitter pill that puts roses in the cheeks and a gleam in the eye. Go do it.”

Isaiah said, “Do it till when?”

Mystery said, “Till hell freezes over.”

Mystery said, “Do it till the cows come home.”

And that is what a prophet does for a living and, starting from the year that King Uzziah died, when he saw and heard all these things, Isaiah went and did it.

🔥

~ Frederick Buechner originally published in Peculiar Treasures and later in Beyond Words


What is your unrelenting passion?

My Beloved said, “My name is not complete without yours.”

And I thought, How could a human’s worth ever be such?

And God knowing all of our thoughts, and all our thoughts are just innocent steps on the path, then addressed my heart.

God revealed a sublime truth to the world when He sang

“I am made whole by your life. Each soul, each soul completes Me.”
– Hafiz


I invite everyone to choose forgiveness rather than division, teamwork over personal ambition.- Jean-Francois Cope  


We never know who we are

( this is strange , isn’t it?)
or what vows we made

or who we knew
or what we hoped for

or where we were
when the world’s dreams

were seeded.
Until the day just one of us

sighs a gentle longing

and we all feel the change.
One of us calls a name

and we all know to be there.
One of us tells a dream

and we all breathe life into it.
One of us asks “why?”

and we all know the answer.
It is very strange

We never know who we are.

🤔🙄😶😏🤗😜😍🤓😖😋😊

We never know who we are by Margaret Wheatley



I’m not perfect

Far far from it

Im so far from perfect

It’s really not necessary 

for me to make that announcement 
You’re not perfect either

I’m not holding either 

Of us to that standard

That comes with way to high 

A price to pay 
I’m human 

So are you

no real surprise

I embrace our humanity

And the delicate balance

Of our chemistry of imperfection

Wrapped in choices
Choices move us in one direction 

or another

In one direction is the path 

which brings peace love joy

connection

life 

Blossoming, flowering with joy
The other path is where lives 

greed lust ego

emptiness that destroys peace 

isolation

death

Stealing the joy from our living
Our very humanity 

The quality of our living 

hangs in the balance of our choices

The choices are never completely one direction,

we roam the depths of both paths,

always becoming more,

discovering,

uncovering,

new pieces of ourselves. 
It’s all important,

it’s also important to know, for sure, what we want our lives to be about,

in order not to end up stuck in a life we don’t want. 
Each of us have free will 

Each of us are responsible only for our own lives. 

I made my choice to continue moving towards the light,

imperfectly but steadily, 

years ago

🔥

Amy Lloyd (AL)



My birds arrive from tropics

and glaciers I can’t imagine.
My river sparkles into a distance

I’ve never seen.
Some days the volcano trembles

and all I can do is wonder.
When my Beloved finds wild animals in me

should I be alarmed or merely startled?
I thought I understood, looked

in the mirror enough to recognize me,
but now you have re-created me entirely

and I must start over. Again. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net



wicked surprises of the call 


God goes out for whiskey Friday night,

Staggers back Monday morning

Empty-handed, no explanation.
After three nights of not sleeping,

Three nights of listening for

His footsteps, His mules sliding
Deftly under my bed, I stand

At the stove, giving him my back,

Wearing the same tight, tacky dress, same slip,
Same seamed stockings I’d put on before He left.

He leans on the kitchen table, waiting

For me to make him His coffee.  
I watch the water boil,  

Refuse to turn around,

Wonder how to leave Him. 
Woman, He slurs, when have I ever done

What you wanted me to do?

❓❓❓❓

Reason by Robin Coste Lewis


Get off my back, God.

Take your claws out of my shoulder.

I’d like to throw you off

like I would brush off some particularly repellent insect!

Sometimes I get the feeling that if I could turn round

quick enough

I would see you

grinning at me,

full of glee, plotting, scheming, devious, challenging

The hell with all this stuff about fire and storm

and still, quiet waters.

I’ve got your number.

I’ve unmasked you.

I’d like to throw you off

like I would brush off some

particularly repellent insect.

You’re a daemon!

Unfortunately, you seem to have this great attachment

to me.

Actually, being honest, I know in my heart

I’d miss you if you weren’t there,

leering at me, reminding me of
death and dread and destiny,

winding me up and puncturing

my pretensions.

I know, with a sinking feeling in my gut

that all the best of me 

–
the fire and storm, 

and even, now and then, still waters,

are born out of the death-defying struggle

that we wage,

my dearest daemon.

💪🏻

Wresting With God by Kathy Galloway


I didn’t ask for this,

did I?

in fact, I believe I tried to block it, 

avoid it at all costs. 

But here I am feeling 

outta sorts,

facing my bittersweet days. 

Wondering where the hell

this is gonna take me?

What is my purpose here?

here, 

where I lived my experiment for 5 years?

here,

what was taken 

now returns,

and I am not sure what to do with it…

light it up

or 

burn it down?

all I know is this is the place

I have been called to 

at this moment 

for only God knows what,

and He’s not talking,

hasn’t shown his face in weeks. 

I must rely on this silly sliver of a promise,

that it is meant for my good 

– somehow,

someway. 

Any-hoo,

Trust is a ruthless business,

an extreme proposition to live. 

I am not leaning to my own understanding, 

or natural desires,

even a bitty-bit, 

or I definitely wouldn’t be right here

 – right now

or anytime in the future. 

Yet here I am,

standing on this holiest of my profane grounds,

way out in the back forty

of thecomfort zone,

knowing beyond knowing,

I’m in the only place 

I’m supposed to be 

right now.  

This is where the magic happens. 

🌎

Amy Lloyd (AL)


God wants to encounter you with His love, so you can become a light everywhere you go, your life will shout to the world, ‘I’ve seen Him, I’ve felt Him. I’ve heard His voice. He is alive. He is here with us. In us. For us.’



rest in the miracle that has always already happened!    – Fred LaMotte


When the world does not conform

to the story in my head

I get a feeling that

“something’s not right.”

Why is the story in my head

not down-loading properly?
Why do I sense that the world

needs to be fixed

and I must repair what is “wrong”

by imposing my story

onto the mystery

of the ineluctable?
Yet the world is not a problem.

The problem is

there’s a story in my head
but it’s not quite the same

as your story, is it?
And so there is conflict,

there is suffering,

even if our stories are about

salvation, about justice

and equality, the perfect

marriage, the cleanest

environment, or gaining

enlightenment…
Happiness cannot arise

if we slather the world in the thin

veneer of our narration.

Happiness is the dance

of atoms ordered by

the dynamics of chaos

in the heart of the now

when we let both story

and teller disperse

like a fine mist,
when we let things clarify

all by themselves

the way silt filters and falls

through a mountain brook

in liquid transparency.
Now rest in the miracle

that has always

already happened.

Just shut up and see.

A rain cloud vanishes.

There are crystal drops on

blades of grass, each containing

the sun.
💫

SOMETHING’S NOT QUITE RIGHT by Alfred LaMotte
https://www.amazon.com/Savor-Eternity-One-Moment-Time/dp/0996523146

Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light…

   Vincent Van Gogh 

these anniversaries 

the marking of dates

building Ebenezer memorials 

from the stones of help

bringing me to this place

tasting again

the bitter herbs

the roasted lamb

the flat bread

the milk and honey flowing over everything 

the fresh dates and figs 

of now

sitting with this

bitter-sweet

sweet-bitter

this life

this love

this past

this practice 

this present 

this grateful 

that gratitude 

that changing

this constant

this birth

this death

this resurrection 

always this love

ah this love

just. 

this. 

love. 

always the path of thanks

always the gifts presenting 

along the diamond road

this is my tradition

my version of holiday 

each one

my best of days

my worst of days

feeling it wrapping around my senses

these memories clouds 

wrapping around me

enveloped from behind me

me always facing forward

always facing toward the rising moment just ahead

the path before me the most important 

always remembering,

along with that other Southern Belle…

tomorrow is another day…

the best is always yet to be! 

🗓

AL 7/23/16 gratitude/tradition


Life

                                    truly             

                            is beauty                

                    beauty                                     

           salted                                                     

        by rare moments                                           

of exquisite suffering.    
 Life

  truly             

    is suffering               

              suffering                                    

  peppered                                              

           by rare moments                                           

of exquisite beauty.    

         

🌹                   

Duality of Life Mug


there’s this summer song

of cool wind on my skin, 

playing sweet percussion through the tall, lush marsh grass

gentle water

invisible birds singing in surround sound

my heart resonates with the language we have spoken

the songs we have sung

the rich vibrations of our connection

over the past few days

the new sun warms my back

my shadow sits large

writing poems

this silence my gratitude

this morning my pleasure

this day my gift

this moment my life

thank you for reaching out 

for breaking through the darkness

for holding my hand
💞

AL


The worst isn’t the last thing about the world. It’s the next to the last thing. The last thing is the best. It’s the power from on high that comes down into the world, that wells up from the rock-bottom worst of the world like a hidden spring. Can you believe it? The last, best thing is the laughing deep in the hearts of the saints, sometimes our hearts even. Yes. You are terribly loved and forgiven. Yes. You are healed. All is well. 

     – Frederick Buechner 

      The Final Beast


Then I walked 

straight forward

out of the gate,

through the wood,

along the river,

toward the mountain
and I thought of the future

I could make in the world

if I walked toward it

like this,

with my face toward the hills

and my eyes full of light

and the earth sure

and solid beneath me,

walking

with a fierce anticipation,

and a faithful expectation,

with the sun and the rain

and the wind on my skin

and that old sense…

of many paths

breaking from one path.
So learning to walk

in morning light

like this again,

we’ll take our first 

light step

toward mortality,

walking

out of the garden,

through the woods,

along the river,

toward the mountain,

its simple,

that’s what we’ll do,

practicing as we go

and

we’ll be glimpsed, 

traveling westward, 

no longer familiar,

a following wave,

greeted, as we were at our birth,

as probable 

and slightly 

dangerous strangers,

someone

coming into view,

someone about

to find out.
Some wild 

and improbable risk 

about to break 

on the world again.
..
David Whyte

Adapted from LEARNING TO WALK

From RIVER FLOW: 

New and Selected Poems


Post Navigation