Error is acceptable as long as we are young; but one must not drag it along into old age. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Saturday, December 31, 2016
The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
That I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can't reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
in the ponds broken off from the sky
my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.
RILKE
Tonight we walk down a road
Thousands of years old
Carrying a basket, my daughter and i
Her in a fur, me wrapped in the night
We climb up the wall
Like the ground we walk on
Stones laid atop eachother
We reach for the stars
And pull down tangerines
Juicy is this nights flavor
And we walk home with our basket
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
That I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can't reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
in the ponds broken off from the sky
my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.
RILKE
Tonight we walk down a road
Thousands of years old
Carrying a basket, my daughter and i
Her in a fur, me wrapped in the night
We climb up the wall
Like the ground we walk on
Stones laid atop eachother
We reach for the stars
And pull down tangerines
Juicy is this nights flavor
And we walk home with our basket
poem by gibran reminds me of differences. not right or wrong just differentt
Your thought is a tree rooted deep in the soil of tradition and whose branches grow in the power of continuity.
My thought is a cloud moving in the space. It turns into drops which, as they fall, form a brook that sings its way into the sea. Then it rises as vapour into the sky.
Your thought is a fortress that neither gale nor the lightning can shake.
My thought is a tender leaf that sways in every direction and finds pleasure in its swaying.
Your thought is an ancient dogma that cannot change you nor can you change it.
My thought is new, and it tests me and I test it morn and eve.
My thought is a cloud moving in the space. It turns into drops which, as they fall, form a brook that sings its way into the sea. Then it rises as vapour into the sky.
Your thought is a fortress that neither gale nor the lightning can shake.
My thought is a tender leaf that sways in every direction and finds pleasure in its swaying.
Your thought is an ancient dogma that cannot change you nor can you change it.
My thought is new, and it tests me and I test it morn and eve.
You have your thought and I have mine.
Your thought allows you to believe in the unequal contest of the strong against the weak, and in the tricking of the simple by the subtle ones.
My thought creates in me the desire to till the earth with my hoe, and harvest the crops with my sickle, and build my home with stones and mortar, and weave my raiment with woollen and linen threads.
Your thought urges you to marry wealth and notability.
Mine commends self-reliance.
Your thought advocates fame and show.
Mine counsels me and implores me to cast aside notoriety and treat it like a grain of sand cast upon the shore of eternity.
Your thought instils in your heart arrogance and superiority.
Mine plants within me love for peace and the desire for independence.
Your thought begets dreams of palaces with furniture of sandalwood studded with jewels, and beds made of twisted silk threads.
My thought speaks softly in my ears, “Be clean in body and spirit even if you have nowhere to lay your head.”
Your thought makes you aspire to titles and offices.
Mine exhorts me to humble service.
My thought creates in me the desire to till the earth with my hoe, and harvest the crops with my sickle, and build my home with stones and mortar, and weave my raiment with woollen and linen threads.
Your thought urges you to marry wealth and notability.
Mine commends self-reliance.
Your thought advocates fame and show.
Mine counsels me and implores me to cast aside notoriety and treat it like a grain of sand cast upon the shore of eternity.
Your thought instils in your heart arrogance and superiority.
Mine plants within me love for peace and the desire for independence.
Your thought begets dreams of palaces with furniture of sandalwood studded with jewels, and beds made of twisted silk threads.
My thought speaks softly in my ears, “Be clean in body and spirit even if you have nowhere to lay your head.”
Your thought makes you aspire to titles and offices.
Mine exhorts me to humble service.
You have your thought and I have mine.
Your thought is social science, a religious and political dictionary.
Mine is simple axiom.
Your thought speaks of the beautiful woman, the ugly, the virtuous, the prostitute, the intelligent, and the stupid.
Mine sees in every woman a mother, a sister, or a daughter of every man.
The subjects of your thought are thieves, criminals, and assassins.
Mine declares that thieves are the creatures of monopoly, criminals are the offspring of tyrants, and assassins are akin to the slain.
Your thought describes laws, courts, judges, punishments.
Mine explains that when man makes a law, he either violates it or obeys it. If there is a basic law, we are all one before it. He who disdains the mean is himself mean. He who vaunts his scorn of the sinful vaunts his disdain of all humanity.
Your thought concerns the skilled, the artist, the intellectual, the philosopher, the priest.
Mine speaks of the loving and the affectionate, the sincere, the honest, the forthright, the kindly, and the martyr.
Your thought advocates Judaism, Brahmanism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam.
In my thought there is only one universal religion, whose varied paths are but the fingers of the loving hand of the Supreme Being.
In your thought there are the rich, the poor, and the beggared.
My thought holds that there are no riches but life; that we are all beggars, and no benefactor exists save life herself.
Mine is simple axiom.
Your thought speaks of the beautiful woman, the ugly, the virtuous, the prostitute, the intelligent, and the stupid.
Mine sees in every woman a mother, a sister, or a daughter of every man.
The subjects of your thought are thieves, criminals, and assassins.
Mine declares that thieves are the creatures of monopoly, criminals are the offspring of tyrants, and assassins are akin to the slain.
Your thought describes laws, courts, judges, punishments.
Mine explains that when man makes a law, he either violates it or obeys it. If there is a basic law, we are all one before it. He who disdains the mean is himself mean. He who vaunts his scorn of the sinful vaunts his disdain of all humanity.
Your thought concerns the skilled, the artist, the intellectual, the philosopher, the priest.
Mine speaks of the loving and the affectionate, the sincere, the honest, the forthright, the kindly, and the martyr.
Your thought advocates Judaism, Brahmanism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam.
In my thought there is only one universal religion, whose varied paths are but the fingers of the loving hand of the Supreme Being.
In your thought there are the rich, the poor, and the beggared.
My thought holds that there are no riches but life; that we are all beggars, and no benefactor exists save life herself.
You have your thought and I have mine.
According to your thought, the greatness of nations lies in their politics, their parties, their conferences, their alliances and treaties.
But mine proclaims that the importance of nations lies in work—work in the field, work in the vineyards, work with the loom, work in the tannery, work in the quarry, work in the timberyard, work in the office and in the press.
Your thought holds that the glory of the nations is in their heroes. It sings the praises of Rameses, Alexander, Caesar, Hannibal, and Napoleon.
But mine claims that the real heroes are Confucius, Lao-Tse, Socrates, Plato, Abi Taleb, El Gazali, Jalal Ed-din-el Roumy, Copernicus, and Pasteur.
Your thought sees power in armies, cannons, battleships, submarines, aeroplanes, and poison gas.
But mine asserts that power lies in reason, resolution, and truth. No matter how long the tyrant endures, he will be the loser at the end.
Your thought differentiates between pragmatist and idealist, between the part and the whole, between the mystic and materialist.
Mine realizes that life is one and its weights, measures and tables do not coincide with your weights, measures and tables. He whom you suppose an idealist may be a practical man.
But mine proclaims that the importance of nations lies in work—work in the field, work in the vineyards, work with the loom, work in the tannery, work in the quarry, work in the timberyard, work in the office and in the press.
Your thought holds that the glory of the nations is in their heroes. It sings the praises of Rameses, Alexander, Caesar, Hannibal, and Napoleon.
But mine claims that the real heroes are Confucius, Lao-Tse, Socrates, Plato, Abi Taleb, El Gazali, Jalal Ed-din-el Roumy, Copernicus, and Pasteur.
Your thought sees power in armies, cannons, battleships, submarines, aeroplanes, and poison gas.
But mine asserts that power lies in reason, resolution, and truth. No matter how long the tyrant endures, he will be the loser at the end.
Your thought differentiates between pragmatist and idealist, between the part and the whole, between the mystic and materialist.
Mine realizes that life is one and its weights, measures and tables do not coincide with your weights, measures and tables. He whom you suppose an idealist may be a practical man.
You have your thought and I have mine.
Your thought is interested in ruins and museums, mummies and petrified objects.
But mine hovers in the ever-renewed haze and clouds.
Your thought is enthroned on skulls. Since you take pride in it, you glorify it too.
My thought wanders in the obscure and distant valleys.
Your thought trumpets while you dance.
Mine prefers the anguish of death to your music and dancing.
Your thought is the thought of gossip and false pleasure.
Mine is the thought of him who is lost in his own country, of the alien in his own nation, of the solitary among his kinfolk and friends.
But mine hovers in the ever-renewed haze and clouds.
Your thought is enthroned on skulls. Since you take pride in it, you glorify it too.
My thought wanders in the obscure and distant valleys.
Your thought trumpets while you dance.
Mine prefers the anguish of death to your music and dancing.
Your thought is the thought of gossip and false pleasure.
Mine is the thought of him who is lost in his own country, of the alien in his own nation, of the solitary among his kinfolk and friends.
You have your thought and I have mine.
Christ be the light sings in the light
The song is brought as the prayer of the moment
As its happening and silent
Kneeling in the church time passes and bellss remind me.
Hours can pass and I remain unquenched and wonder if that isn't the prayer.
Lord show me to be more empty so every sunrise I seek ur fullness
-kmg
As we silently work on ourselves the energy of our devotion becomes points of light in this world. At the
present time a map is being unfolded made of lights of the lovers of god
As I sit in the church, this light joins the light of my prayer and the crusifiction becomes my own. May I remember life this new years is in this moment... may I remember love is in this moment and we can choose it or not
As I sit in the church, this light joins the light of my prayer and the crusifiction becomes my own. May I remember life this new years is in this moment... may I remember love is in this moment and we can choose it or not
Friday, December 30, 2016
What comes to me in the sunrise is a line from a poem I shared last night"
'the over prudent dog. Burying bones on the path to the holyland"
If I be that dog....
do I think I will return the same way
For what is the holyland but just where I am standing, is there a forward or back" from this vacation, this new years, this moment,
Thursday, December 29, 2016
My cross was missing a stone since summer and I had had a small grand gesture to complete it one way with an emerald or another stone of sorts to mark something or another....
Instead in a instinct, I walk into a beach shop on a cold corsica day. I find it so uniquely perfect that I an brought into a small shop in a small town who JUST SO happens to have the exact same stone and exact perfect size to complete my cross. Feel so grateful to have such messages of goodness in my life. Surely they lead me on the right path.... or remind me I am there....
Instead in a instinct, I walk into a beach shop on a cold corsica day. I find it so uniquely perfect that I an brought into a small shop in a small town who JUST SO happens to have the exact same stone and exact perfect size to complete my cross. Feel so grateful to have such messages of goodness in my life. Surely they lead me on the right path.... or remind me I am there....
Cictern monks play in my ears
Believing that silence comes aside the holy hymns
Stillness speaks the sun I can not look at so eyes closed sounds of a morning praise in the flowers, the birds., the hose clearing off a patio for a new day of sharing....
The blessings are in just this life. The doing has all day to happen.....
It's the 10am church bells that ring in the distance
They remind me to start again for its thy cup overflowing with joy and goodness that makes me want to dance and stretch and praise God for this morning
I remember to sit still listen for gods small voice of spirit to touch my heart and bring something greater then I can write about then I can know.
I remember to still myself and sit covered in this chair. Home. Home is always this moment even atop the cateri hills of corsica.... home
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Interesting to hear this poem about Sinai and the fire not being devoured as I write the same
"By Joseph Gikatilla
"By Joseph Gikatilla
(1248 - 1325?)
English version by Peter Cole
The Nut Garden holds things felt and thought,
and feeling for thought is always a palace --
Sinai with flames of fire about it,
burning though never by fire devoured.
On all four sides surrounded so,
entrance is barred to pretenders forever.
For one who learns to be wise, however,
its doors are open toward the East:
he reaches out and takes a nut,
then cracks its shell, and eats..
and feeling for thought is always a palace --
Sinai with flames of fire about it,
burning though never by fire devoured.
On all four sides surrounded so,
entrance is barred to pretenders forever.
For one who learns to be wise, however,
its doors are open toward the East:
he reaches out and takes a nut,
then cracks its shell, and eats..
Has the world done something to you.
Can u remember the priciples of trust
Can I release everyone and everybody to be
Exactly who they are
Can I raise myself to rise above the level of
Accusing anyone of anything and believe
Nothing is going on......
There are no problems that are someone else's fault
What function can I give to another?
Everyone has their own parts to play
Let it be..... let people be....let things be
Let the seasons come and go so I can reach my greatest good.
Let my power come to me from christ, in a constant unfolding..... let me live in the light of god. My vision is of total and absolute love, this is my vision to the world and my fellow neighbor. Compassion is the heart I can hold this love, in areas I can not change, I can smile and offer my being in love, total faith, total understanding that everything is exactly the way is should be.... miracle of life.... heaven on earth.... let my trials be to raise another's pain, let me be that instrument of healing.......
What am I projecting onto this situation as far as what I need to make me happy. Can I believe that the most growth will come if this situation turns out the exact way I need it to?
My greatest growth is to confront my own fear and realize in my own armageddeon the battle with fear, darkness and light is in my resistance.
Lord let me surrender that to this sunrise which I can see
This love that I can feel
Amen
What if all our conflicts are just bringing us collectively to a new growth.... in Christ's conscience mind.
What if we can all connect through christ and find compassion for eachother and in that find peace for ourselves.
A surrender, to gods will together coming to the healing, in whatever is going on behind or in the tangible sense.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
The mini-automatic shifting pugeot reminds me I am an American as I pull between the stone walls winding to the mountain top restaurant which will become our home.
I glass door reflection the gold balls dripping from the Christmas tree, I wonder if it will stay there long into January, silly how Christmas has such a build up just a few days after it seems long enough...to me
And the lunch crowd is local. A stop in the action for. Visitors who don't speak French, room keys appear from out of the front pocket apron, which has greeted so many before.
The heels on my boots while thick are still to high to gracefully attend to the stones laid hundreds and hundreds of year ago....... villa flora
I can hear the bird chirping, a river flowing, the sun and sea are friends even on the mountaintop the islands inds welcome me...I slow to the rhymes of an island in france
A bathtub calls my name.....and so does astrid----
Monday, December 26, 2016
What a gift the fire was to the burning bush
How glorious the burning bush must have felt
Burning the fire, yet not being consumed, being the fire
And being the bush
How beautiful it must be for christ to join us as the burning bush in our hearts. How beautiful it must be to burn together and not be consumed....
Sunday, December 25, 2016
Presents under the tree- fire blazing
Coffees strong aroma released with all the smells of pine and wood and this wet Christmas morning in paris...
Silence fills the large room and I wonder how long is long enough to silence....
And in this silence, one must disern the energy infront of it when glittering packages spark disappointment and joy whose flames are like that of the crackling wood, they are but a moment and they fly up in the ether and return again and again....
Love fills my heart and I dance top the shower
Friday, December 23, 2016
The best statement of the basic beliefs and attitudes of Saint Thomas Christianity is the Creed which was printed in the fourth edition of the Liturgy of the Liberal Catholic Church (which has its philosophical roots in India):
We believe in God, the undivided Unity, embracing all in oneness.
We believe in the Holy and all-glorious Trinity, who pervades the whole universe, who dwells also in the spirit of man.
We believe in Jesus Christ, the Lord of love and wisdom, first among his brethren, who leads us to the glory of the Father, who is himself the way, the truth, and the life.
We believe in the law of good which rules the world and by which one day all his sons shall reach the feet of the Father, however far they stray.
We strive towards the ancient narrow path that leads to life eternal.
So shall his blessing rest on us and peace forevermore. Amen.
Sitting between the fireplace and the tree here in a Paris Home, 6 of those I have birthed around me connected and separated, experiencing the same moment, breaking in and out of their movies, books, snapchats, and games to share a tidbit or out do another's last laughed at comment...we are one. A family
Can I be anything but greatful for whatever tomorrow brings this moment is and has it all, fullness bounding,
I read of Augustin rodin and his living with my favorite poet rilke about the same time kahill gibranu is in Paris and they need. The "son of man' could have been started in the early 1900 when this coming together happened and the translation of the sermon on the mount could have been read as I read it now to my group.
I ask, so ur persecution asking me to relinquish this quest of reading is spoken of as an honour so ask away...;)
kibran on the sermon
One harvest day Jesus called us and His other friends to the hills. The earth was fragrant, and like the daughter of a king at her wedding-feast, she wore all her jewels. And the sky was her bridegroom.
When we reached the heights Jesus stood still in the grove of the laurels, and He said, "Rest here, quiet your mind and tune your heart, for I have much to tell you."
Then we reclined on the grass, and the summer flowers were all about us, and Jesus sat in our midst.
And Jesus said:
"Blessed are the serene in spirit.
"Blessed are they who are not held by possessions, for they shall be free.
"Blessed are they who remember their pain, and in their pain await their joy.
"Blessed are they who hunger after truth and beauty, for their hunger shall bring bread, and their thirst cool water.
"Blessed are the kindly, for they shall be consoled by their own kindliness.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall be one with God.
"Blessed are the merciful, for mercy shall be in their portion.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for their spirit shall dwell above the battle, and they shall turn the potter's field into a garden.
"Blessed are they who are hunted, for they shall be swift of foot and they shall be winged.
"Rejoice and be joyful, for you have found the kingdom of heaven within you. The singers of old were persecuted when they sang of that kingdom. You too shall be persecuted, and therein lies your honour, therein your reward.
"You are the salt of the earth; should the salt lose its savour wherewith shall the food of man's heart be salted?
"You are the light of the world. Put not that light under a bushel. Let it shine rather from the summit, to those who seek the City of God.
"Think not I came to destroy the laws of the scribes and the Pharisees; for my days among you are numbered and my words are counted, and I have but hours in which to fulfil another law and reveal a new covenant.
"You have been told that you shall not kill, but I say unto you, you shall not be angry without a cause.
"You have been charged by the ancients to bring your calf and your lamb and your dove to the temple, and to slay them upon the altar, that the nostrils of God may feed upon the odour of their fat, and that you may be forgiven your failings.
"But I say unto you, would you give God that which was His own from the beginning; and would you appease Him whose throne is above the silent deep and whose arms encircle space?
"Rather, seek out your brother and be reconciled unto him ere you seek the temple; and be a loving giver unto your neighbour. For in the soul of these God has builded a temple that shall not be destroyed, and in their heart He has raised an altar that shall never perish.
"You have been told, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say unto you: Resist not evil, for resistance is food unto evil and makes it strong. And only the weak would revenge themselves. The strong of soul forgive, and it is honour in the injured to forgive.
"Only the fruitful tree is shaken or stoned for food.
"Be not heedful of the morrow, but rather gaze upon today, for sufficient for today is the miracle thereof.
"Be not over-mindful of yourself when you give but be mindful of the necessity. For every giver himself receives from the Father, and that much more abundantly.
"And give to each according to his need; for the Father gives not salt to the thirsty, nor a stone to the hungry, nor milk to the weaned.
"And give not that which is holy to dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine. For with such gifts you mock them; and they also shall mock your gift, and in their hate would fain destroy you.
"Lay not up for yourselves treasures that corrupt or that thieves may steal away. Lay up rather treasure which shall not corrupt or be stolen, and whose loveliness increases when many eyes behold it. For where your treasure is, your heart is also.
"You have been told that the murderer shall be put to the sword, that the thief shall be crucified, and the harlot stoned. But I say unto you that you are not free from wrongdoing of the murderer and the thief and the harlot, and when they are punished in the body your own spirit is darkened.
"Verily no crime is committed by one man or one woman. All crimes are committed by all. And he who pays the penalty may be breaking a link in the chain that hangs upon your own ankles. Perhaps he is paying with his sorrow the price for your passing joy."
Thus spake Jesus, and it was in my desire to kneel down and worship Him, yet in my shyness I could not move nor speak a word.
But at last I spoke; and I said, "I would pray this moment, yet my tongue is heavy. Teach me to pray."
And Jesus said, "When you would pray, let your longing pronounce the words. It is in my longing now to pray thus:
"Our Father in earth and heaven, sacred is Thy name.
Thy will be done with us, even as in space.
Give us of Thy bread sufficient for the day.
In Thy compassion forgive us and enlarge us to forgive one another.
Guide us towards Thee and stretch down Thy hand to us in darkness.
For Thine is the kingdom, and in Thee is our power and our fulfilment."
And it was now evening, and Jesus walked down from the hills, and all of us followed Him. And as I followed I was repeating His prayer, and remembering all that He had said; for I knew that the words that had fallen like flakes that day must set and grow firm like crystals, and that wings that had fluttered above our heads were to beat the earth like iron hoofs.
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
Listening to jai jagatambe, kneeling besides a sunrise, behind a window, in a paris flat, all six of those I birthed into being, asleep, ....
I pray, stretch, clarity, emptiness is something I am not something I meditate into, I can be just silence and it would be empty in human tears but filled to overflowing in heart, sunrise to sunset, I am.
And I am also dancing, in Indian dress, my knees are raising and it's in a circle with the clinging of my saris metals dancing with me, and itsnt it also kali and grace dancing with me, or do I feel them dancing and it must be me in form.
And I'm kneeling to christ who glows in the sunrise and reminds me the day is beginning or just always is, whether in paris- india- or this day of my 50th birthday or on a bicycle after high school graduation listening to free bird...
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see god...
Amen
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Saturday, December 17, 2016
rilke
Only in our doing can we grasp you
Only with our hands can we illuminate you
The mind is but a visitor
It thinks us out of our world
Each mind fabricates itself
We sense it's limits for we have made them
And just when we would flee them you come
And make yourself an offering
I don't want to think a place for you
Speak to me from everywhere
Your gospel can be comprehended
Without looking for its source
When I go towards you
It is with my whole life...
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Friday, December 9, 2016
Ultimate reality, the meaning underlying everything, is unborn.
With the awareness that concepts and characteristics are likewise unborn,
not a single thought process stirring in the mind ever diverges from its unborn state.
If one understands that there is meditation regardless of what thoughts occur,
then no matter what takes place, there is no distraction, even if one does not try to meditate.
Longchen Rabjam
Ultimate reality, the meaning underlying everything, is unborn.
With the awareness that concepts and characteristics are likewise unborn,
not a single thought process stirring in the mind ever diverges from its unborn state.
If one understands that there is meditation regardless of what thoughts occur,
then no matter what takes place, there is no distraction, even if one does not try to meditate.
Longchen Rabjam
Ultimate reality, the meaning underlying everything, is unborn.
With the awareness that concepts and characteristics are likewise unborn,
not a single thought process stirring in the mind ever diverges from its unborn state.
If one understands that there is meditation regardless of what thoughts occur,
then no matter what takes place, there is no distraction, even if one does not try to meditate.
Longchen Rabjam
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Monday, December 5, 2016
merton
Since I am a man, my destiny depends on my human behavior: that is to say upon my decisions. I must first of all appreciate this fact, and weigh the risks and difficulties it entails. I must therefore know myself, and know both the good and the evil that are in me. It will not do to know only one and not the other: only the good, or only the evil. I must then be able to love the life God has given me, living it fully and fruitfully, and making good use even of the evil that is in it. Why should I love an ideal good in such a way that my life becomes more deeply embedded in misery and evil?
To live well myself is my first and essential contribution to the well-being of all mankind and to the fulfillment of man’s collective destiny. If I do not live happily myself how can I help anyone else to be happy, or free, or wise? Yet to seek happiness is not to live happily. Perhaps it is more true to say that one finds happiness by not seeking it. The wisdom that teaches us deliberately to restrain our desire for happiness enables us to discover that we are already happy without realizing the fact.
To live well myself means for me to know and appreciate something of the secret, the mystery in myself: that which is incommunicable, which is at once myself and not myself, at once in me and above me. From this sanctuary I must seek humbly and patiently to ward off all the intrusions of violence and self-assertion. These intrusions cannot really penetrate the sanctuary, but they can draw me forth from it and slay me before the secret doorway.
Thomas Merton
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Am I waiting for wisdom
Greater than my own
For surely the thoughts and fears of the night slept in darkness and are burned off in this light.
They burn off as they are not the greater part of me
This heart sings the joy of the morning
And soon, will be joined my angels, children, god
Blessed are those who are merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
Amen
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
poem
A thousand years look back in the mirror and I praise the not knowing I cry clenching balls of emotion that don' belong to me, I hold it for all I can not know and skim but the froth of any pain, staying grateful for the blessings For the work feels like a fire burning Surely it will leave a surface I have not seen before The candle flickers and the silence of Alone is broken by those who came thru me And today the work is a bread I will bake to feed them "And if a man bakes a bread bitter with his disdain he feeds but half a stomach Amen-, ,,,,,
Thursday, November 24, 2016
By Pablo Neruda
(1904 - 1973)
English version by Anthony Kerrigan
And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky
Sent from my BlackBerry 10 smartphone.
Grateful for so much, including words from Pema today. "
Perhaps there is no solid obstacle except out own need to protect ourselves from being touched. Maybe the only enemy is that we don't like the way reality is now and therefore wish it would go away fast. But what we find as counselors, coaches practitioners is that nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)