Springs Arrival

 

Painting by David Hockney

Spring's Arrival

I went for a wee.

In that moment I noticed something

Had perceptually shifted.

A lightness had blow in

Through the night on the winds.

Or was it the dance of the moonlight?

Whatever the way the traveller

Had changed their cloak.

The heaviness had lifted

And wintered given herself over to 

Spring. Just like That.

Or was it? I am no wiser as to how

And daily question my faith.

Clouds scuttle through internal skies.

What remains is Spring's

Indomitable warmth from the rays of

The rising sun and the swaying 

Golden daffodils.

  

Equinox Blessings

What to Remember When Waking

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
coming back to this life from the other
more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world
where everything began,

there is a small opening into the new day
which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough
for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

To be human is to become visible
while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.
To remember the other world in this world
is to live in your true inheritance.

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which you have just emerged.

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window
toward the mountain presence of everything that can be
what urgency calls you to your one love?
What shape waits in the seed of you
to grow and spread its branches
against a future sky?

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine for yourself?
In the open and lovely white page on the writing desk?

-- David Whyte --

Ithaka

Ithaka

BY C. P. CAVAFY

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND KEELEY

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:

you’ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind—

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

C. P. Cavafy, "The City" from C.P. Cavafy: Collected Poems. Translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Translation Copyright © 1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. Reproduced with permission of Princeton University Press.

Source: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51296/ithaka-56d22eef917ec

When someone deeply listens to you

When someone deeply listens to you

it is like holding out a dented cup
you've had since childhood
and watching it fill up with
cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
you are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin,
you are loved.

When someone deeply listens to you
the room where you stay
starts a new life
and the place where you wrote
your first poem
begins to glow in your mind's eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!

When someone deeply listens to you
your bare feet are on the earth
and a beloved land that seemed distant
is now at home within you.

By John Fox

Trust The Process of Change

Image: Alexandra Dvornikova 

Trust the process of change.

Sometimes a familiar thing needs to die

before an unfamiliar new sprout can grow.

Whether it is a big transition

or a wee, little one

fear is a normal emotion

on the path of transformation.

A wise friend once told me

that fear of the unknown

is excitement, holding its breath.

I remember this

when I am about to birth

new little things

or little big things.

And I remember that every mountain

has a path

and that the path itself

is as valuable

if not more so

than the mountaintop

because without it

you could not get to the very top to see the view.

The path seasons us

sometimes more

than the mind expansive eye opening

perspective

at the top.

When in doubt, remember

trust the process.

trust the journey.

trust the invisible and not so invisible

helpers

that assist us

across the rivers of change.

if that does not work

and all else fails

and you are scared

and feeling tiny

and know that you are about to birth

some kind of wonderful

just imagine that you are held

in the arms

of the great mother

the grandmother

the gentle forest mother bear spirit

of nourishing trust.

Words by The Wild Matryoshka

Sleeping In The Forest

Sleeping In The Forest.

I thought the earth remembered me, she 

took me back so tenderly, arranging 

her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds. I slept 

as never before, a stone 

on the riverbed, nothing 

between me and the white fire of the stars 

but my thoughts, and they floated 

light as moths among the branches 

of the perfect trees. All night 

I heard the small kingdoms breathing 

around me, the insects, and the birds

who do their work in the darkness. All night 

I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling 

with a luminous doom. By morning 

I had vanished at least a dozen times 

into something better.

-  Mary Oliver -

Nikki Giovanni - Badass

I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad

I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile

I am a beautiful woman
I gazed on the forest and burned
out the sahara desert
with a packet of goat's meat
and a change of clothes

I crossed it in two hours
I am a gazelle so swift
so swift you can't catch me
For a birthday present when he was three

I gave my son hannibal an elephant
He gave me rome for mother's day
My strength flows ever on
My son noah built new/ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day

I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save

I sowed diamonds in my back yard
My bowels deliver uranium
the filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels
On a trip north

I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the arab world
I am so hip even my errors are correct
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents

I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended
except by my permission

I mean . . . I . . . can fly
like a bird in the sky . . .

- Nikki Giovanni -

A Thousand Years of Healing

A thousand years of healing

From whence my hope, I cannot say,
Except it grows in the cells of my skin,
In my envelope of mysteries it hums.
In this sheath so akin to the surface of the earth
it whispers. Beneath
the wail and dissonance in the world,
hope’s song grows.
Until I know
that with this turning
we put a broken age to rest.
We who are alive at such a cusp
Now usher in
One thousand years of healing!

Winged ones and four leggeds,
Grasses and mountains and each tree,
All swimming creatures,
Even we, wary two leggeds
Hum, and call and create
The changing song. We remake
all our relations. We convert
our minds to the earth. In this turning time
we finally learn to chime and blend,
attune our voices; sing the vision
of the Great Magic we move within.
We begin
the new habit, getting up glad
for a thousand years of healing.

Susa Silvermarie

Joy

Joy like the spring feels
   as if she is untouchable
far away over the hill.
I know she's there,
   we want to meet again.
Her smile gives me hope.
   Allows me to take faint steps forward,
Another day passes,
     and she seems lost to me.
I hear her heartfelt voice calling me on
 over and over again.
She claims me back into the parts of me
that need quenching,
    like a slow warm Sunday walk
along the banks of the Dart
  No destination
Always home
   where I am meant to be
Spring returns once more
 and winter ebbs away

Kissing the Earth

An aspiration and intention setting for this coming first week of February 2020. 

Inshallah it may come to pass.

As it was

As it is

As it shall be

Lost Words Blessing for Imbolc

The Lost Words Blessing

Enter the wild with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river
May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter
May you enter now as otter without falter into water

Look to the sky with care, my love
And speak the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you journey on past dying stars exploding
Like the gilded one in flight, leave your little gifts of light
And in the dead of night my darling, find the gleaming eye of starling
Like the little aviator, sing your heart to all dark matter

Walk through the world with care, my love
And sing the things you see
Let new names take and root and thrive and grow
And even as you stumble through machair sands eroding
Let the fern unfurl your grieving, let the heron still your breathing
Let the selkie swim you deeper, oh my little silver-seeker
Even as the hour grows bleaker, be the singer and the speaker
And in city and in forest, let the larks become your chorus
And when every hope is gone, let the raven call you home

Fierce Aloneness

Fierce aloneness freezes my eyes shut,
         darkness pervades like a dampened heavy cloak
My shoulders fall forward
   the void of all voids
beckons me into her deep embrace
  This cannot be my fate
       Not now
         Not today

I fear falling and falling forever
Gripped by this place
I shout for HELP reaching my hands into the nothing

hands meet mine
   the most tender loving hands
that guide me, I know not how

I begin to place delicate tremulous steps before me
  the fear ebbing away
    my body unfurls like a flower in the spring sun.

Every Year With Out Fail

... why?

JOMO

I found a new word today - Jomo - and I love it. More and more I am switching off from the hustle and bustle of life. Resisting the need to have a smart phone. No kindle. No fast food. Maybe it is a response too winter tickling the back of my legs. It is not here yet although it's tendrils are reaching out. It is the time of year when winter teachers begin to arrive. A deep slowing calls. Warmth and sunshine become that bit more precious and appreciated. The cave and the desire to hibernate call loudly. And Jomo is the watch word of the season.

Narrative Theology

And I said to him
Are there answers to all of this?
And she said
The answer is in a story
and the story is being told.

And I said
But there is so much pain
And he answered
Pain will happen.

Then I said
Will I ever find meaning?
And she said
You will find meaning
Where you give meaning.

The answer is in story
And the story isn’t finished.

The question is not where but now
there question’s never finished
or exhausted
and the answers in the asking
not the answer
the answer’s in the breathing of the question
in the love of holding onto
what was never whispered never seen
but what we dreamed of in the morning
then forgot while venus hid

the answer’s in the living not the knowing
the answer’s in the telling of the story
in half forgotten memory
and all unfinished stories

the answer’s in the showing time of senses
the answer’s in the question
in the learning
in the fading page of writing
in the letter sent to lovers
in the paying for the other
the answer is the generous

is the truthing

the absolutely truthful anger

and forgiving is the giving of what you don’t deserve
it’s what I’ll serve because you’re hungry
even though you may not know it

the answer’s in the living and the dying
in the trying for redemption on an empty hill of crosses
it’s the shoring up of hope and the gathering of losses
it’s the looking for companions in the hills and in the glens
it’s the waking up and walking up and starting up again
the answer’s in the living
and the trying.

And I said to the wise one,
what is the answer to all this
And they said the answer’s in the story
and the story’s just unfolding.

- Padraig O'Tuama -

from hymns to swear by, released March 17, 2010
I changed the gender in a few places to bring balance.

I am clearing a space

I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back.
I am making a circle so open
the moon will fall in love
and stroke these grasses with her silver. 

I am setting stones in the four directions,
stones that have called my name
from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesas.
Here I will stand with my hands empty,
mind gaping under the moon. 

I know there is another way to live.
When I find it, the angels
will cry out in rapture,
each cell of my body
will be a rose, a star. 

If something seized my life tonight,
if a sudden wind swept through me,
changing everything,
I would not resist.

I am ready for whatever comes. But I think it will be
something small, an animal
padding out from the shadows,
or a word spoken so softly
I hear it inside. 

It is dark out here, and cold.
The moon is stone.
I am alone with my longing.
Nothing is happening
but the next breath. 

Morgan Farley

Things Always Change

We travel at different speeds
I'm slow
You are laughter and burning energy
I listen deeply seeing shadows
You sleep long into the night
We meet each other in moments
Filled with expectation and yearning
We part with unmet needs
Hopeful of a future together
Filled with sunshine and flowers blooming
In brilliant colours
The shadows remain
And yet they to fade
As the days unfold and familiarity gently
Leans into the small corners of out lives
Music fills the air carrying lilting
Tones of resonant vibration

Fellow Traveller

Trees are Tree-mendous

I came across this imagine this morning. It visualises ways to work spiritually and energetically with trees. I love trees. And now I have more ways to communicate and connected with our one-legged friends.

Decentering

In the second half of 2018 there is much happening in the anti-fracking movement and the extinction rebellion group. It is part a response to the recently published IPCC report indicating the small timeframe left to redress climate change. People who otherwise would not typically be active environmentalists are being called into action. It's amazing to see.

At this time I am also reminded that humans are not at the centre of anything.

I do think we have a very inflated self obsessed sense of ourselves. By this I mean, everything is filtered through a very human-centric lens. It's hard not to do this. Nevertheless, our self-reflexivity does offer other options.

When it is suggested we are guardians or stewards of Earth and therefore must act to protect her. I want to suggest an alternative position, that we are instead temporary guests. Each one of us is passing through. Here for a short time.

From this view point;
What if, we de-center our self-importance?
Become more humble.
Become more grateful, caring and appreciative of all other forms of life.
What if, no one needs saving from no-thing?
What if, we do not need to shift human consciousness?

From an open hearted trusting place there is the potential that consciousness, will shift us. That potentiality is always present. Unfortunately too often fear gets before love. No judgement. It's very hard to sometimes even recognise fear is trumping love. Fear, scarcity, loss, hate, deprivation, trauma, anxiety are peddled every second of the day from the moment we are born. That is why we have an epidemic of mental disease and chronic tiredness. Learning how to meet and hold painful and fear-based energies, emotions, experiences is a life's work.

Recognising that light comes out of darkness and darkness comes out of light allows us to appreciate that polarities by definition are inseparable. To deny one is to deny them both simultaneously. You cannot know joy without knowing sorrow. When we truly see and feel the interconnectedness of all things we recognise that everything is ok. This is not to dismiss suffering. It is to recognise it does not exist in isolation. And to hold suffering we need to come into relationship with all of life.

Then being human is transformed from this very diminished place of consumer, careerist, capitalist into a dancing co-creator. Life is not a linear industrial machine striving for productivity, efficiency and an optimalism. Life is a cyclical relationship of reciprocity, generosity and creativity. Change, movement and dynamism are continuous as life seeks further and deeper expression of itself.

All of which takes me to the words of Jalaluddin Rumi.

"This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. 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. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond" (translated by Coleman Barks).