life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “light”

I am here to tell you morning has come 

there’s this whisper promise 

in the breeze,

a bit of ethereal fog slipping between the sheets 

of night 

and dawn breaking.
there’s this rumor running 

afoot in this new born day,

a sideways glance of something – 

Oh it’s JOY! 

and all this glory burning hot. 
there’s this holy hushing

songs of angels,

a chorus of bluebells

bowing heads

softly clapping

as they watch it all approaching. 
there’s this first blush of light,

smudging darkness,

a bit like the bitter and sweet

mixed each day with our longing 

for joy to come nest. 
there’s a song playing on low

sometimes you forget to remember 

be still and know

as sure as spring follows winter

love always wins

listen to your heartbeat 

joy is our birthright 

right now

morning has come

🌞
Amy Lloyd (AL)


It could happen any time, tornado,

 earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.

 Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That’s why we wake

 and look out — no guarantees

 in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning,

 like right now, like noon,

 like evening. 
Yes!
-William Stafford

At times, our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.

 

 – Albert Schweitzer

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your prison is walking through this world all alone  – Deperado (lyric).  

You must leave a lot behind

for your life to become whole.
What the Beloved lets go of

to have you!
If there were a hell 

God would always be there 

carrying people out. 
There is a flock that is not well

without you.
When you think you’ve run away,

proud of your independence,

you’re really just lost.

You need each other. 
All of life is God’s party

at having found you.

Or maybe, today, another.
Don’t be ashamed to be brought in

on the shepherd’s shoulders:

you got lost in the best possible way,

looking for God. 

         

Remember each of the other ninety-nine

came the same way. 

         

         

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

listen to Love is My Religion



and before it can be begun

the wind whips the wisps of promise

out of our reaching hands

the hard ground dries the wettest seeds

the thorny earth strangles

the fragile thin ice easily breaking

plunges us under the dark icy water of yesterday’s pain

the sensitive places choke us

we allow old wounds to be reopened 

by new innocents

replay 

rewind

again and again

life is not always kind

love is not always given a chance to bloom

buds crushed early

unicorns are tricky

yeti never let themselves be fully seen

or photographed

quickly disappearing into the foggy forest 

yes, truth is written by those in the know:

“it is ours to win or lose”

so, what will we choose?

to step in or duck out?

some people love to talk loud about the desire to win

then secretly, swiftly throw the game

and silently walk away

thinking they are playing life safe

fear is a brutal master

comfort-zones will kill us all

though we’ll keep 

breathing for many years

trust is a deep quarry hidden within

the high walls of the castle

each kingdom must be won 

the beast slain by our courageous spirit

removing the massive heads of the monsters

with the found sword of our personal truths

Envision holding those fearful grotesque trophies aloft!

Stepping into your full name! 

Champion

Conquerer

Love always wins! 

You must choose it! 

You can do it,

were born that way! 

Amy Lloyd (AL)


All my life, I thought of love as some kind of voluntary enslavement. Well, that’s a lie: freedom only exists when love is present. The person who gives him or herself wholly, the person who feels freest, is the person who loves most wholeheartedly.
― Paulo Coelho 


Read that again:

All my life, I thought of love as some kind of voluntary enslavement. Well, that’s a lie: freedom only exists when love is present. The person who gives him or herself wholly, the person who feels freest, is the person who loves most wholeheartedly.
― Paulo Coelho 

tons and tons of sparkles 


Did you know that whenever you feel love, you literally begin to glow? You probably did. 
But did you know that the glowing is actually made up of zillions of minute sparkles? And that these sparkles receive as much energy as they create? And that because of this energy exchange you completely stop aging and look younger? Abundance is immediately drawn to you? Healing powers fill you? Muscles are strengthened, pounds are shed, and your vision improves? Lingering questions are answered? New friends are summoned? Old friends are poked? Problems are solved? And maple syrup tastes more maple-y? 
All when you feel love. 
It’s true, 

    The Universe

      http://www.tut.com


Ms. Nature is moody one

the sky is varying shades 

of pale baby blue

the water is like a silver mirror

endless beautiful

the same rocks that glittered 

like a million diamonds 

just yesterday 

are silent today

big dependable rocks

ready for Monday work week

still the same 

still awesome

still beautiful

just in a different mood

today the brilliant emerald moss

on those huge rocks suspended 

in the metallic mercury

glow against the silver

I think of Ireland

my draw to visit

the Emerald Isle

on the other side of this pond

life is different 

yet the same

the oyster boat trolls

a heron waits until

just the right moment

then takes off 

flying so close to the water 

on and on 

until I lose him in the horizon

I feel like him 

waiting for my moment

resting for the next phase of flight

and in the fullness of time

at just the right nudge

I will take that breath and 

fly

staying close to the water

my source of life

as the epic journey home 

continues

My heart knows for sure

my love story has 

a very happy ending

💚

Amy Lloyd (AL)


Holy One, Divine Lover,

I am your image.

Your glory, your love,

your life, your grace

is folded up in me 

a thousand times

and this, my life,

is your unfolding

like a rose.

Each day your beauty emerges,

each moment your light unfolds

in me.

I honor this mystery. I trust it. 

I give thanks, 

that even in ugly places

you unfold your beauty in me,

each breath one of the infinite

petals of God.
In the rose garden of God

I marvel at the variety.

I walk with gentle wonder.  

I give thanks

that in each of us

you give yourself

to all of us. 
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

http://www.onbeing.org/blog/david-whyte-the-house-of-belonging/8886

I cannot tell you anything that you are not already capable of knowing yourself.

Nor can I give you anything that is not already at your fingertips.

You have all the answers within your own Being to all of the questions you or anyone else may ask.
Each of us has enormous capacity of Being.

So what is it that we want or need from each other?

Value; We have the capacity to value ourselves and in doing so we set our own value.

Companionship; We experience companionship with others to the capacity that we have companionship with ourselves.
How can I understand others, if I don’t understand myself?
You reflect to me what is already within my own awareness whether I am awake to it or not.

What most of us are looking for outside of ourselves is a reflection, a mirror of what lies within us so that we can gaze upon ourselves.
As I gaze upon myself in the reflection of you

I see the beauty that hides within me
In your grief I touch on the grief I hide inside

In your laughter, laughter is ignited within me
Your Joy radiates and pierces the Joy laden in me

So that we can be in Joy
Your Spirit Unites with Mine as we gaze at Beauty emanated by a flower
This must mean that Beauty enables us to see our harmony 

 A harmony so perfect that nothing can escape it
As I connect to the world outside of myself it reflects me to you and you to me
We are in concert with the great symphony of the Cosmos

Infinitely expressing itself
In those special tender moments when I touch something in me gazing at you

I can hear the masterpiece sweeping us away

I can see the Vision drawing us near

I can smell the fragrance of our essence
For You Are a Part of Me and I am a Part of You

Endless Reflections of the One in Us

🎭

Reflections of Me

© 2014 Mechel Gallaway All rights Reserved


threads that won’t break 


On Dec 3, 2014 (2 year anniversary of my living death in the dark night of the soul, I got a post titled Love never Dies from Jen Lemen at Hopeful World http://hopefulworld.org

Here’s a taste of what it said:
I am struck also as I write to you from this wintery desk, that building our capacity for stillness helps so much when the wild comes to our restless souls. Without that practice of being quiet, it’s easy to be scared when our wild, instinctual thoughts pop up. It’s easy to think that they are bad somehow or in need of corralling. But the practice of quiet and stillness helps us recognize our instinctual knowing for what it is: a call to our most true nature. A call to a kind of expression that is more vibrant, more textured, more passionate, more alive–even if it’s a little bit messy. Even if it kicks up a little bit of shame that we are this human, this raw.
So I invite you today to sit with me for three magic minutes. I’ll be right here with you, my own mind a rollercoaster of crazy, of frantic, of nonsensical worrisome things. I’ll sit with you and notice everything in my own soul, while you notice everything in yours and together we will begin to knit together an understanding of what’s underneath that noise: a gorgeous, exquisite tapestry of human longing designed to carry us to an awake magnificent place.
Will you join me?

Setting the timer now.

Let me know how it is on the other side.
With so much love,

Jen
It’s now 3.5 years later and Jen Lemen is still bringing all that, and more to me, to you, to the shaky, hoping world, to the edges of eternity…love never dies. 
Today, in this crazy, brutal brutal place, where we ask…
how can these two people be our Presidential choices?
how can people keep killing other people?
how can I deal with the grief and the fear of this? 
how can I help?
what is the solution? 
what is my part? 
Jen Lemen is doing her part. She’s offering Soul Snacks – 
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
Amazing gifts to all of of struggling, hungry, hurting, angry, frustrated pilgrims and poets. 
Right now she has open enrollment and I have just this…
Don’t wait! http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
Gobble this up, savor it a bite at a time, eat them from start to finish, or nibble from the middle to each edge of crust. Savory, delectable soul-spices involving all your most subtle senses. 
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks

💞

Keep wrestling, burn, scream, let go, melt, let your heart keep breaking for the sake of your heart, keep saying the names of your people, fiercely defend your tenderness, think, grieve, repair, renew, continue to do what’s in your heart to do…each thread matters…each color makes the world more beautiful…
in the end, only love is eternal, only love remains…
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks

🔥

AL


We are God’s thread

weaving through the tapestry,

the masterpiece is slowly 

created. 

Potential for beauty, we can’t know,

    unfolding,

       becoming,

          revealing glory 

so bright 

it makes the sun squint 

and reach for sunglasses.  

Brilliance so far beyond ourselves

we go shining into the gray

as we open to the new jewels appearing,

sparkling in the moonlight. 

As we step into the needle’s eye 

the angels catch their breath,

cheering our blazing garments,

dazzled by the vision

God is revealing through the creation. 

As we surrender to the greatest mystery,

the beauty we inhabit 

becomes us,

walking in humble clay

eyes out shining the stars 

set in the heavens. 

Until we totally disappear and all that’s left

is holiness 

so pure 

all we can do 

    is 

bow in wonder 

at ourselves

and give thanks 

as the silk thread 

becomes liquid gold and silver

pure and simple

glory

as we realize our place in the whole. 

We are the temple of our creator. 

The home of God. 

😎

AL



As deftly and finally as one pulls out a thread

someone is weaving them, gracefully tying them,

minute and irreversible.
In the towering sky, even under the fortress, 

root tendrils muscle in and bind ligaments

through an abyss we had been told was absolute.
No enormity of terror

can keep up  

with the steady, unseen healing. 
Before the assault, the horrible wound, 

gaping and exposed,

the stitching has already begun.
Even as we sigh in our own world,

moving on, separate,

we are being sewn in. 
In the earthquake, the collapsing mountains,

not a bit of rubble falls

on the path from the temple.
If you could hold your immortal soul

in your hands, you would hardly recognize it

from one moment to the next.
Your grave is already empty. 
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


photo sources found at pinterest.com

peace. love. seal the deal.   – Miles  


White and black cannot be found

in the ruins and valleys of a human face. 

You’re the dust in a wrinkled rainbow,

whorled pallet of earth tones,

ginger, sorrel, burnt sienna. 
Who called you “white,”

that disdain for shadows,

color of the fear of falling 

through the prism of contradictions?
You are not white, you are oak,

apple wood and dandelion. 

Make wine of yourself. 

Make a barrel of your bones. 

Acquire the flavor of your ancestors. 
Who called you “black,”

that abstraction of a laughing tear?

You are not black, you have sown

sunset in your cheek furrows. 

You are banyan, and mahogany,

kola nut and olive, cocoa bean of grief,

kinnikinnik of the sacred pipe. 

You are the night. 
Voracious love has dipped us both

in honey, meshed our dreams

in darkest cilia, netted our souls

like mushrooms in sweet loam,

the wild manure of one dragon. 
Through innumerable pungent roots

the same juice bears us upward

into starlight. 

🌠

Who Told You? by Alfred K. LaMotte



my heart hurts today

for this pain. 

I feel great sorrow,

shattering grief,

love cracks me open,

allows me to feel this

hurricane of rage,

this fraction of our creation –

soul division. 
for what we,

as human-kind,

have chosen to accept

within the soil of our borders,

our birthright is so much more. 

we are each beloved. 

we are royal, each and every one. 
sadness sits on me,

a heavy fog,

as I drive,

wait, 

pay,

that smarmy man 

with the weird goatee,

wearing the faded Jack Daniels t-shirt,

I try to love him – 

I humbly admit my failure today,

I promise to keep trying, 

it is my only hope to change this world.  

I return to my place in this universe,

the one I belong to for this moment –

I walk a mile quickly

my angst 

mixing with grief 

tears won’t stop

I walk this beach,

so familiar,

yet always new.

I pick up rocks, 

I move from rocks,

to sand,

to benches. 

I stand while the gulls float,

so easy,

so secure,

so assured,

so secure,

so loved,

so free. 

As I watch

peace fills me…
I let go…
always a brutal struggle for this stubborn girl, 

(I prefer to name that quality ‘determined’)

always, always, worth it. 
trusting life is a ruthless business. 

I choose to live,

I choose to feel,

I choose to open,

I choose to pay attention, 

I choose to connect,

I choose to participate,

I choose to love,

ruthlessly. 

What about you? 

💞

AL


God grant you the eyes of heaven

         to see each person’s divine belovedness

                  and so find joy.
God grant you a listening heart 

         to hear the cries of the silenced, 

                  and so gain wisdom. 
God grant you humility

         that unburdened by yourself

                  you may be free.
God grant you courage 

         to enter the world’s dark wounds, 

                  and so bring healing.  
God grant you patience, 

         to know the strength of the long journey, 

                  and so be given hope. 
God grant you a heart of love, 

         to be moved to action, 

                  and so receive deep peace.  
God grant you God’s own spirit 

         to share in the healing of the world, 

                  and so know God’s deep delight. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net



Where you belong should always be worthy of your dignity.       – John O’Donohue


                         everything here
                                              

 seems to need us
           

                   -Rainer Maria Rilke

😶🙃🙂

I can hardly imagine it

as I walk to the lighthouse, 

feeling the ancient

prayer of my arms swinging

in counterpoint to my feet.

Here I am, suspended

between the sidewalk and twilight,

the sky dimming so fast it seems alive.

What if you felt the invisible

tug between you and everything?

A boy on a bicycle rides by,

his white shirt open, flaring

behind him like wings.

It’s a hard time to be human.

 We know too much

and too little. 

Does the breeze need us?

The cliffs? 

The gulls?

If you’ve managed to do one good thing,

the ocean doesn’t care.

But when Newton’s apple fell toward the earth,

the earth, ever so slightly, fell

toward the apple.

🍎

The World Has Need of You by Ellen Bass


4:08 pm Seattle

june 24, 2016

the beauty of comversations

so amazing

such glory in these connections

from all over the world –

we all have need of each other. 

Front porches can be found anywhere. 

We share lunch tables

and stories, oh so exciting. 

The four friends head to the gate,

the two locals call a friendly greeting as they return to leave for home, 

they remember my name – 

it rings out in the busy airport!

Wave and smiling – I live here!

I sit and rejoice.

Write it. 🙂

   I am enriched

       by this going 

           by this obedience

                  by this calling

I have received such confirmation of my work. 

So energized,

             so blessed,

                      so excited, 

                so ready. 

I am smiling as the guy above my table says, 

So we must be in the allergy section….

(we talk throat clearing and 

the fact that I have eaten gluten,

 for a few)

Hi, I’m Gary…I’m Amy….

my next divine appointment 

has just arrived…

we cross paths 2 or3 times,

then just sit 

     talk, 

           share, 

                connect,

                  sleep

         (well, sorta…in a plane seat??????….winging to Phily)

we leave each other with a warm hug,

after an all night flight…

I am doing my work…

and it is good 

✈️

AL


Today I wish you grand adventures, shared laughter and please, for goodness sakes, park with WILD ABANDON!! ❤️ xo

light & shadow


Of the light in my room:

Its mood swings,

Dark-morning glooms,

Summer ecstasies.
Spider on the wall,

Lamp burning late,

Shoes left by the bed,

I’m your humble scribe.
Dust balls, simple souls

Conferring in the corner.

The pearl earring she lost,

Still to be found.
Silence of falling snow,

Night vanishing without trace,

Only to return.

I’m your humble scribe.
📝

Secret History by Charles Simic 


Sleep hangs in soft evening light

in the corners of the room –

like an old pair of favorite pants,

slightly baggy,

immensely comfortable,

a few worn-thru patches of natural ventilation. 

Soft, favorite, go-to pants 

for days off. 

Those ones always ready to take you anywhere in comfort,

on a day where you are

not trying to impress anybody –

just need to be the real you. 

Stripped of pretense. 

A day where dreams can change your living, 

and love songs can overflow inside

from start to finish. 

You eat dinner with friends. 

Savoring moments. 

Hoping this day of summer 

will linger long

like honey on your fingers 

after the toast is gone. 

Sweet and sticky,

clinging to everything. 

Extra goodness

for the tongues finding. 

Shadows fall. 

The day drops it’s load 

and lets go. 

Relaxing into nothingness,

eyes begin to see 

the spaces between worlds. 

Beauty fills the air,

waiting for me. 

In the quiet of the night,

I lie alone,

yet not… 

I am loved. 

Aware, as I float away,

just how magical 

a moment can be. 

🖋

AL

why should I worry or fret?


Rest is the conversation between what we love to do and how we love to be. Rest is the essence of giving and receiving; an act of remembering, imaginatively and intellectually but also physiologically and physically. To rest is to give up on the already exhausted will as the prime motivator of endeavor, with its endless outward need to reward itself through established goals. To rest is to give up on worrying and fretting and the sense that there is something wrong with the world unless we are there to put it right; to rest is to fall back literally or figuratively from outer targets and shift the goal not to an inner static bull’s eye, an imagined state of perfect stillness, but to an inner state of natural exchange.
The template of natural exchange is the breath, the autonomic giving and receiving that forms the basis and the measure of life itself. We are rested when we are a living exchange between what lies inside and what lies outside, when we are an intriguing conversation between the potential that lies in our imagination and the possibilities for making that internal image real in the world; we are rested when we let things alone and let ourselves alone, to do what we do best, breathe as the body intended us to breathe, to walk as we were meant to walk, to live with the rhythm of a house and a home, giving and taking through cooking and cleaning. 
When we give and take in an easy foundational way we are closest to the authentic self, and closest to that self when we are most rested. To rest is not self indulgent, to rest is to prepare to give the best of ourselves, and to perhaps, most importantly, arrive at a place where we are able to understand what we have already been given.
In the first state of rest is the sense of stopping, of giving up on what we have been doing or how we have been being. In the second, is the sense of slowly coming home, the physical journey into the body’s un-coerced and un-bullied self, as if trying to remember the way or even the destination itself. In the third state is a sense of healing and self-forgiveness and of arrival. In the fourth state, deep in the primal exchange of the breath, is the give and the take, the blessing and the being blessed and the ability to delight in both. The fifth stage is a sense of absolute readiness and presence, a delight in and an anticipation of the world and all its forms; a sense of being the meeting itself between inner and outer, and that receiving and responding occur in one spontaneous movement.
A deep experience of rest is the template of perfection in the human imagination, a perspective from which we are able to perceive the outer specific forms of our work and our relationships whilst being nourished by the shared foundational gift of the breath itself. From this perspective we can be rested while putting together an elaborate meal for an arriving crowd, whilst climbing the highest mountain or sitting at home surrounded by the chaos of a loving family.
Rested, we are ready for the world but not held hostage by it, rested we care again for the right things and the right people in the right way. In rest we reestablish the goals that make us more generous, more courageous, more of an invitation, someone we want to remember, and someone others would want to remember too.


REST By David Whyte

there are words strung together

in such beauty

lined up in perfect sequence

finally arranged in such a way

they touch secret places

of pain so hidden inside us

they have had no way of expression 

they almost don’t exist

they are so deep

so shadowy scarred and twisted

so nameless I can’t acknowledge them

because they might possibly be a ghost

and why would I disturb alien creatures,

when there is quite enough pain

right here in plain sight

to try to heal and deal with?
until these thoughts appear,

the magical key,

and shadows become real,

in these words of another – 

because the other 

has felt 

has written

has sung

has wrestled and wrangled with…

this too!

and the words they have mined 

from these dark, broken quarries 

touch that wispy, pain-filled place

inside of me

with delicate fingers

and declare they are so,

and, somehow,

they make them alright,

binding and healing

my shame-filled broken bones

my secret stab wounds 

my almost too pain-full to be real

merely by sharing them out loud!

Suddenly, my soul says, aha!

And I breathe again, 

and I lay down to rest. 

Then roses in my heart

turn from blush to deepest crimson

and birds come and build nests in the trees,

which declare every moment that

Yahweh is always gracious,

and the morning wakes up

new and alive. 

Then love burns seven times hotter 

than I ever even thought possible

and I count gift after gift

of never-before-seen riches at my fingertips

as I step into a life 

that matters

because I am beloved

because I understand myself better

and the meaning of,

It is what it is

and

the truth shall set you free

become my praise songs

because I AM

with every word

and I grin and say,

‘You aren’t much, my girl’

and I belly laugh…

because it is true!

and then I laugh even harder because,

truth is also,

I AM everything I need to be! 

oh, hallelujah 

glory be!

🌞

AL

light pours through  

photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT


Mist rises through light poured into the meadow,

blessing breathed into the world.
Here, on the sidewalk, without

having to know, you inhale it.
Not the meadow you saw 

gleaming this morning,
but one far off. This light has come far

to find you. 
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

🌞

shine. shine. shine.   

photo above OF Lissette Hesmadt taken by her daughter!!! Ah-mazing! 

🌞
Never water yourself down just because someone can’t handle you at 100 Proof.

🌞

– Unknown 






Someone you know was walking through the woods alone, just following his whims, when he looked down into the hollow where a dark stream flowed. On the other side of the stream he saw something gold glinting in the darkness. It was out of his way, and looked difficult to reach, but the mysterious thing beckoned to him. So he left the well-maintained path, and descended the steep bank. He made his way, with great effort, through painful brambles and resistant thickets. Beyond the stream he could see the gold thing, shining in a tiny shaft of sunlight. As he stepped into the stream he realized that it was much deeper than he had imagined. He paused, thinking this was a silly obsession. What would people think of him going to all this trouble just to find a piece of trash beside a creek? But that thing seemed to be calling out to him— not from across the stream, but from within him. And he thought, “What better have I to do than to pursue this mystery?” So he plunged into the stream. It was over his head, and cold, and the current was surprisingly strong. He imagined what would happen if he drowned, and they found his body here. How would they explain that? It made him laugh. But he had resolved to make this little journey, so he swam across the current. 

On the other side he waded through the mud to the treasure. It was certainly nothing that anybody else would want. It was an old picture with a gilded frame, dirty and mostly caked with mud, but shiny along one edge. He wiped off the glass. What he saw astonished him. It was a portrait. To someone looking on it might have looked like nothing but vague shapes of light and shadow. But among the dreamy shapes, he saw a portrait of himself! Only it was more noble and beautiful than he could have imagined. In this picture he had purpose. There was a look in his eyes of deep joy and wisdom. And it was clear that whoever had painted the picture had done so with great love and tenderness, with respect for even the tiniest and most ordinary details. Amazed, he stared at it for a long, long time. The afternoon passed away. 

Finally, clutching it to his heart, he returned across the stream. But in the strong current the picture slipped from his hands and it sank into the unreachable depths. At first he wanted to dive down and find it; but then, floating on the water, he realized that it did not matter. He had seen the picture, and it was engraved in his heart; that was all that mattered to him. He crossed the stream and found a new road, eager to go home and, though it seemed impossible, to tell his wife. 

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Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

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