I may not know my original face
but I know how to smile.
I may not know the recipe for the diameter
of a circle but I know how to cut a slice
for a friend. I may not be Mary or the Buddha
but I can be kind. I may not be a diamond
cutter but I still long for rays of light
that reach the heart.
I may not be standing on the hill of skulls
but I know love when I see it.
There is a voice inside the body.
There is a voice and a music,
a throbbing, four-chambered pear
that wants to be heard, that sits
alone by the river with its mandolin
and its torn coat, and sings
from whomever will listen
a song that no one wants to hear.
But sometimes, lost,
on his way to somewhere significant,
a man in a long coat, carrying
a briefcase, wanders into the forest.
He hears the voice and the mandolin,
he sees the thrush and the dandelion,
and he feels the mist rise over the river.
And his life is never the same,
for this having been lost—
for having strayed from the path of his routine,
A Man Lost by a River by Michael Blumenthal
find photo sources @ www.pinterest.com
Seeds under the ground on a mid-winter’s night
A list of freedoms:
I am willing to sound dumb.
I am willing to be wrong.
I am willing to be passionate about something that isn’t perceived as cool.
I am willing to express a theory.
I am willing to admit I’m afraid.
I’m willing to contradict something I’ve said before.
I’m willing to have a knee-jerk reaction, even a wrong one.
I’m willing to apologize.
I’m willing to be perfectly human.
– Donald Miller in Scary Close
The Wind and The Sun
an Aesop Fable
____________________________________
Gentle persuasion is stronger than force.
Stay soft – for God’s strength is always revealed through our weaknesses and scars.
Find source photots at www.pinterst.com/al513
Page by page it was written into their flesh, not by addition but instead by what they gave away
As the dark clouds roll in, and all hope disappears from sight, and the bright sun goes away, leaving every heart filled with fright. And all hope and virtue disappears from sight, making even the kindest things seem filled with blight; and the cold rain pouring down, cutting through us through the night. In desperation searching; nothing to find it seems though we might, continue pushing though nothing we do is right.
Drenched and sore and bleeding, empty and broken and pleading, without hope and desperately needing, some comfort though none forthcoming; the brightest day as turned to night. Our sight foreshadowed in darkness, that fog thick and endless around us, concealing the path before us, the level ground a seeming endless height!
That slippery slope before us, though level seeming to those around us, daunting as we feel it; we trip and stumble underneath it, that hidden weight we carry it, translucent and transparent, and yet to our soul we feel it. Sliding down that hillside, level, falling to the bottom, under that angry sky we’re filled with, nothing but empty gripe.
Stumbling and aching, slowly we come to standing, the ground underneath us turning, ever always turning, as if the world is shaking; for inside us the world is shaking, ever inside us quaking, sleeping even while waking; twilight seems closest to what is bright.
Ever inside us knowing, our fate for us, are future sowing, a future not worth knowing; for ever inside us searching, for a hope now lost from sight.
Then that flash and clap does shake us, the resounding sound does wake us; the bright and brilliant flash does wake us, incandescent and brilliant white! And our eyes do open wide, though blurry to the sight, of that beam shine through the sky, cutting as though a knife, through cloud and shadow and shame, and only the light remains!
Then the calm and gentle breeze, the warm and kindest breeze; touches us as we freeze, to the spot we find us standing, and for a moment remaining, for a new breath grasping; and we find us speaking “light don’t leave me, please!”
The Storm by Matthew Mele
Yesterday was the beginning of a new adventure. I will be hosting and producing a public access tv show named Artitude. Yesterday I sat down with three amazing, courageous friends to share our stories on camera. George Manuka, pastor of Dunbar United Church of Christ in Hamden, CT. He is also my pastor. Linda Bonadies, composer, song writer extraordinaire. Linda has written a one woman show based on her story, called Give it all Away. I recently saw it in NYC. I am so inspired by her courage and talent. We are writing songs together for the show. Matthew Mele (above poem) is Poet in Residence. Matthew teaches martial arts, he has an incredible story, great poetic ability and a unique gift of perspective. I am so excited to have him share and explore these on this show.
I am feeling very grateful, a bit overwhelmed, excited, afraid I can’t do it, challenged in every area, ideas are bouncing around in my head, the things I don’t know feel like a hovering mountain to climb.
I feel the importance of this project. I feel the largeness of this opportunity. I feel the responsibility which comes with sharing my voice.
Artitude will be about the arts, sharing stories, connections, how we build stronger communities and heal our lives. Here is the 60 word explanation of the show premise:
Everyone is an artist. Our lives are our masterpiece.
Word of God, flowing free
http://www.ionabooks.com/the-green-heart-of-the-snowdrop-downloadable-book.html
Being here, on this planet, at this very time and place, breathing, living these moments we are granted, as who we have been created to be, is our ultimate gift.
We are given free will, we are allowed to decide what our lives are about, who’s allowed to live with us, what we will live for and what we will die for.
Not consciously choosing is a choice. We will not be granted more time to relive our choices.
Thank you, Mary Oliver for putting it so beautifully, because no one else can answer this very important question for you:
What will you do with your one wild and precious life?
listen to Karma
life: acoustic & amplified 