life: acoustic & amplified

appearing. disappearing.

The road seen, then not seen, the hillside

hiding then revealing the way you should take,

the road dropping away from you as if leaving you

to walk on thin air, then catching you, holding you up,

when you thought you would fall,

and the way forward always in the end

the way that you followed, the way that carried you

into your future, that brought you to this place,

no matter that it sometimes took your promise from you,

no matter that it had to break your heart along the way:

the sense of having walked from far inside yourself

out into the revelation, to have risked yourself

for something that seemed to stand both inside you

and far beyond you, that called you back

to the only road in the end you could follow, walking

as you did, in your rags of love and speaking in the voice

that by night became a prayer for safe arrival,

so that one day you realized that what you wanted

had already happened long ago and in the dwelling place

you had lived in before you began,

and that every step along the way, you had carried

the heart and the mind and the promise

that first set you off and drew you on and that you were

more marvelous in your simple wish to find a way

than the gilded roofs of any destination you could reach:

as if, all along, you had thought the end point might be a city

with golden towers, and cheering crowds,

and turning the corner at what you thought was the end

of the road, you found just a simple reflection,

and a clear revelation beneath the face looking back

and beneath it another invitation, all in one glimpse:

like a person and a place you had sought forever,

like a broad field of freedom that beckoned you beyond;

like another life, and the road still stretching on.
❤

Santiago by David Whyte

WATCH THIS!!!!

I can’t get enough of sand labyrinths

 

Traveler, there is no path.

The path is made by walking.
Traveller, the path is your tracks

And nothing more.

Traveller, there is no path

The path is made by walking.

By walking you make a path

And turning, you look back

At a way you will never tread again

Traveller, there is no road

Only wakes in the sea.

🌊

Antonio Machado

big sky
crazy love
open ended
possibilities
sand witch-ing it’s way
between toes
meat between bread
celebrating that Earl of long ago
drifting wood
holding the soundtracks
of love arriving new born
greens and blues
stronger than distance
accepting
giving
receiving
healing
bringing
restoring
birds fly free in the baby blue
fireworks of various kinds
boom over summer shores
brighter than the sun
life spins into proper position
calmly
we carry on
❤

Amy Lloyd (AL)

in the world between worlds

where the shimmering abstract

holds all the secrets within us

words are absent

no scripture exists

there are no definitions

as there is no need for such things

in our eternal knowing 

we are ever-being known

the mystic colors of God fill us

unseeable in this earthly realms obscured vision 

they hold us there 

where we don’t need to be  understood 

or understand anything

we are simply

all we could ever hope to be

we are the lover and the beloved

eternal love

eternally loved 

complete

You in I

I in you

one

❤

Amy Lloyd

connections

 

Love means to learn to look at yourself

The way one looks at distant things

For you are only one thing among many.

And whoever sees that way heals his heart,

Without knowing it, from various ills.

A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.

Then he wants to use himself and things

So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.

It doesn’t matter whether he knows what he serves:

Who serves best doesn’t always understand.

❤

Czeslaw Milosz

I would be reborn

And live it all again.

Avoid mistakes, regrets. Forsake,

The circumstance that made me

Who I am.

Who would I be?

Not painted, tarnished, scared, or tattooed

The only blemish, I do not regret is you.

A lovely scar that I can never give up.

The only scar given that did not corrupt.

How I wish to be clean;

But fear to wash away

The scar you gave, the gift you made;

If I lived again, I would have stayed.

No matter the price,

Whatever the cost,

Without you, I am completely lost.

Reborn by C.B. Cooper

I  grieve
a simple bottle of shells
and suddenly,
within that deep place of jagged, raging grief
I also find healing for –
the apple tree,
morning coffee-time on the deck,
Aunt Margie,
the saxophone,
guitars I bought – not for me,
the songs I couldn’t sing – for you,
the tsunami’s of losses I couldn’t prepare for,
the love I couldn’t earn,
the lessons I have learned.

I feel this stitching of the busted seams
pulling these ragged edges together.
A few of the broken pieces
of my soul
mending as the salt water falls,
making room for something new.
This is not the end,
maybe not much in the grand plan,
more must be felt,
more must be laid bare
and wrapped in the tender, loving light
of love
Yet I know,
as spring comes to April,
sun breaks through the shadowed window
and finds some room
to grow new flowers
in my heart

❤

Borrowing Benefits by Amy Lloyd

thunder moon in summer skies

Weather Report
Emergency,

as our partially obscuring vision

gradually clears,

revealing people’s inner light

and the urgency of seeing.

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

Traveler, there is no path.

The path is made by walking.
Traveller, the path is your tracks

And nothing more.

Traveller, there is no path

The path is made by walking.

By walking you make a path

And turning, you look back

At a way you will never tread again

Traveller, there is no road 

Only wakes in the sea.

🌊

Antonio Machado

The skies sob for days

grieving my losses

The sunsets shine glory

bringing hope to my nights

after my bouts with prairie madness 

from this God forsaken place of lonely crucifixion 

I wait in a shy place of peace

buds slowly blooming like new spring

in my hesitant still-beating heart

I have done with the earthquakes of anxiety and fear

the clay tentatively stilled beneath me in this ground breaking moment 

of wonder and amazement 

something tender is taking root inside me

this new thunder moon 

brings loud silent space for 

letting go

opening thoughts 

new ideas

voices shared

building collaboration 

untapped possibilities

unlimited potential

the desires of the holy trinity of myself –

heart

body 

soul

I acknowledge deep calling to deep

within this waterspout of quiet spirit

there is dawning of truth 

softly arriving on the wings of the summer breeze

clouds and answers silently forming without the need for words

recognition is first step into new beginnings

grateful hearts, wrung dry as deserts,

somehow know for sure:

the best of life is always yet to be,

true spiritual waters always grow corn

 🌽 

Amy Lloyd (AL)

everybody i know

what does fear gain us? 

what’s the upside of our refusal to let go?

why was before so much better than now? 

does letting go mean we’ll just sit down…

stay here forever…

in misery…

in this less than glamorous corner we find ourselves in?

♠️

everybody I know lives on the edge of a page

turning softly as the answers 

arrive on the wind

clearing the cloud obscured vision

of our wandering wondering 

♣️

everybody I know lives on the rocks of an active volcano 

hanging onto the burning questions 

waiting for the miles to find the nightingale’s broken-hearted love song

♥️

 sometimes we say things we don’t mean to help us get through this hard moment we stand in

sometimes we truly think we mean these fine words declared so fervently 

the heart given so freely

while in bondage to another

until we step into a new chapter and find those words were just our wish to believe 

a desperate plea of hoping to find love is still alive

let us hope to find grace when we are the givers and the takers of these gifts 

♦️

the flamingo shakes her tail feathers 

The grackle’s shadow invades our dreams 

We keep meeting our own colors in every one of these beauteous spirals 

messages left in each dropped exquisite feather on our pathway

patience is a virtue very few are rich enough to pay the humble price to gain

hearts are very fragile when allowed to keep breaking 
    “Imagine the world of our voices sing out the Sterling news” 

       – m.e.
Imagine all the people living in light and love within themselves

Imagine what a changed world that would be

what if we were no longer afraid of light shining within us

what if it no longer matters if we live in the now of ourselves

what if we look at the larger question of ‘oughtness’ 

What then? 

My God, what happens then?? 

💞

Amy Lloyd (AL) 

Miguel Escobar (m.e.)

Start with your own body,

the small bones of the hands

moving toward the inlets of the fingers.
Wanting it too much invites haste.

You must love what is raw

and hungered for.
Think of the crab cake as the ending,

as you till away at the meat, digging for

errant shells and jagged edges.
Always, it’s a matter of guesswork

but you hold it together

by the simplest of ingredients,
for this is how the body learns to be generous,

to forgive the flaws inherited

and enjoy what lies ahead.
Yet you never quite know

when it happens,

the moment when the lumps
transcend egg and breadcrumbs,

the quiver of oil in a hot pan,

to become unworldly:
the manifold of pleasure

with the sweet ache of crab

still bright on your tongue.

 🔥

How to Make a Crab Cake by January Gill O’Neill

easy

It’s as easy as turning around
&
letting
the invisible energy of the wind
help you
instead of hinder you. 

Panache Desai

Ch’ui the draftsman
Could draw more perfect circles freehand
Than with a compass.

His fingers brought forth
Spontaneous forms from nowhere. His mind
Was meanwhile free and without concern
With what he was doing.

No application was needed
His mind was perfectly simple
And knew no obstacle.

So, when the shoe fits
The foot is forgotten,
When the belt fits
The belly is forgotten,
When the heart is right
“For” and “against” are forgotten.

No drives, no compulsions,
No needs, no attractions:
Then your affairs
Are under control.
You are a free man.

Easy is right. Begin right
And you are easy.
Continue easy and you are right.
The right way to go easy
Is to forget the right way
And forget that the going is easy.

❤

When the Shoe Fits by Thomas Merton

Every morning

Swimming up out of dreams

I surrender to being here

I let go into gravity

Into the way the sweet earth pulls me to her

Head, hip, arm, leg . . . . with each exhale I drop further

Into cool white sheets, firm mattress, bed frame, 

floor, walls, earth, earth, earth. . . .

It takes practice

To give up habitual holding on, holding in, holding back

Every morning I open myself

And invite grace to have its way with me 

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

there is no me stuck in the middle

if I move slow it’s because it’s my current pace of preference 

after all that pushing up hill

gaining no ground

I refuse to kiss and tell

Im not a careless whisperer

though I am easy as Sunday Morning 

and twice as nice as you’ve previously heard

these crows feet I’ve earned

by laughing in the face of it all

are my pride and glory 

this current number is my favorite 

raise your glass if you love your own face

there will be no disparaging of the word: Life

it is our gift 

sand between my toes 

stardust in my eyes

let’s get real 

I mean really real

I want a love that will last

If you get what you ask for…

what will the supreme question be

????

think about them apples

come on get happy this very day

then come on up onto the stage

and sing it like you mean it 

along with the choir 

there’s always room for one more 

welcome to the spotlight

you’re very welcome here

Amy Lloyd (AL)

Why wait for the light?

Why not play in the dark as well?

 

Give up holding on…holding in…holding back

changing winds

.
… turned Inward
..

they
will, should
and all,
be comfort zones

 

photo sources found at pinterest / al513

so… {what?}

 

When did hordes of sentences start beginning with So?

As if everything were always pending,

leaning on what came before.

What can you expect?

Loneliness everywhere, entertained or kept in storage.

So you felt anxious to be alone.

Easier to hear, explore a city, room,

mound of hours, no one walking beside you.

Talking to self endlessly, but mostly listening.

This would not be strange.

It would be the tent you slept in.

Waking calmly inside whatever

you had to do would be freedom.

It would be your country.

The men in front of me had whole acres

in their eyes. I could feel them cross, recross each day.

Memory, stitched.  History, soothed.

What we do or might prefer to do. Have done.

How we got here. Telling ourselves a story

till it’s compact enough to bear.

Passing the walls, wearing the sky,

the slight bow and rising of trees.

Everything ceaselessly holding us close.

So we are accompanied.

Never cast out without a line of language to reel us back.

That is what happened, how I got here.

So maybe. One way anyway.

A story was sewn, seed sown,

this was what patriotism meant to me—

to be at home inside my own head long enough

to accept its infinite freedom

and move forward anywhere, to mysteries coming.

Even at night in a desert, temperatures plummet,

billowing tent flaps murmur to one other.

❤

The Tent By Naomi Shihab Nye

 

We dwell in tents
in handmade huts of various sizes
in the style of this dimension…
We walk in a storybook called life
As we undergo our epic journey

Wind turns the pages
made of sunshine and rain
mud and stars
This novel ever winding
reaching to climax
Its chapters building to grand finale
Line by line
story within story
Our stories and events
intersecting
winding in, out, beside, through
Characters come and go
it is how we be-come
how we begin to find ourselves
within the infinity of another
We keep weaving this gorgeous tapestry
with the three threads

that hold the power to change us forever:
Dreams
Suffering
&
Love
At times we feel alone
But reality is –
We are never alone!
this is truth –
The very air we breathe
connects us
makes us one with each other

We walk about naming our world
as God instructed us to do –
ever naming is our instinctual work

As in all great love stories
there is never an ending
only that ever-wondrous thought
from age to age
the relay of the ancestors…
our legacy…
plays forward…
and backward…
into this very moment…
as it will for our children’s children

always…to be continued…

Amy Lloyd (AL)

 

 

 

freedom is never cheap

Either the world is coming together
or else the world is falling apart—
here—now—along these letters,
against the walls of every heart.

Today, tomorrow, within its weather,
the end or beginning’s about to start—
the world impossibly coming together
or very possibly falling apart.

Now the lovers’ mouths are open—
maybe the miracle’s about to start:
the world within us coming together,
because all around us it’s falling apart.

Even as they speak, he wonders,
even as the fear departs:
Is that the world coming together?
Can they keep it from falling apart?

The image, gradually, is growing sharper;
now the sound is like a dart:
It seemed their world was coming together,
but in fact it was falling apart.

That’s the nightmare, that’s the terror,
that’s the Isaac of this art—
which sees that the world might come together
if only we’re willing to take it apart.

The dream, the lure, isn’t an answer
that might be plotted along some chart—
as we know the world that’s coming together
within our knowing’s falling apart.
“Song of the Shattering Vessels” by Peter Cole

I try to clean up

pick up pieces of myself

from all over the frozen ground

Who knew hearts can turn into

Slivers of glass

dangerous to handle

Slice my fingers

I rub tears from my eyes

and find toxic rivers

Red flows

Staining all of life

Small killing shards everywhere

Thousands

Maybe millions

They stick to the inside of my chest

My throat

Puncture my lungs

Settle in my stomach

as I try to eat breakfast

It’s getting harder and harder to speak

To breathe

To stand

I fall face first into a pool

Of freezing water

The glass becomes ice

Eventually I crawl out of the water

but the ice remains

a solid block I live with

for 9 years

Containment my highest priority

Walking dead

until that box breaks open

I begin to grieve

and begin slowly melting

Fusing shattered pieces

absorbing them into

the fabric of my living

Im still working on it

Still looking for the fire of love

to refine the gold

Scars show the hearts broken places

for glimmers of light to shine through

As grieving does it’s healing work

And I become human

Once again

💃

Amy Lloyd (AL)

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame

where everything shines as it disappears.

The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much

as the curve of the body as it turns away.
What locks itself in sameness has congealed.

Is it safer to be gray and numb?

What turns hard becomes rigid

and is easily shattered.
Pour yourself out like a fountain.

Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking

finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.
Every happiness is the child of a separation

it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming

a laurel,

dares you to become the wind.

💨

RAINER MARIA RILKE

Consider this tale, a gift from the Hassidic tradition:
A disciple asks the rebbe: “Why does the Torah tell us to ‘place these words upon your hearts’? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?” The rebbe answers: “It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and words fall in.”

( Read full blog post here )

You have had many and great sadness, which passed. And you say that even this passing was hard for you and put you out of sorts. But, please, consider whether these great sadnesses have not rather gone right through the center of yourself? Whether much in you has not altered, whether you have not somewhere, at some point of your being, undergone a change while you were sad?… Were it possible for us to see further than our knowledge reaches, and yet a little way beyond the outworks of our divining, perhaps we would endure our sadness with greater confidence than our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered into us, something unknown ; our feelings grow mute in shy perplexity, everything in us withdraws, a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent…

❤️

RAINER MARIA RILKE

It’s not easy

to do the hard thing

to lose

to stand

to eat

to sleep alone

to wait at all

to be long-time patient

to be strong

to allow the pain

the grief

the tears of exhaustion

frustration

weariness

to press on

to refuse to settle

to believe in spite of loss

to keep the fire warm

to build wells

to send out love

to melt your defenses

to keep touching the lepers

to allow healing to come

to ruthlessly let go

to rise above our stories

to inhabit them completely

to set our boundaries

yet keep opening our hearts

to be ready

to keep saying yes

🎆

Amy Lloyd (AL)

Most images found on pinterest.com

swing low sweetness

Breaking News from the hammock…calorie free yet full of all the good fat you will ever need!
There’s a low grade argument happening between the soft wind playing in the treetops

and the warm, humid air that keeps returning the slow bees to the leggy lilac hanging out beside me

buttery-yellow butterfly’s silently flutter against the myriad of greens 

the drone of the low flying planes in the misty white sky are the only indicator 

that people are going places without me

I hang in my rope bed moving with the rhythm the summer Saturday flow

cats and dogs reassure me 

I am not alone in the world 

I can almost hear the tomatoes growing in the neighbors garden 

as the first fruits of lettuce 

(complete with the delightful thought of multiple bugs hang out…

reminding me, we all share in this vast abundance)

come to my hanging throne

from the nice man weeding in his panama hat

it feels like an offering, or a reward,

for my work of hanging around so well

a flash of blue jay lands near 

then he flashes on to the fence to catch up with a friend

flow-er petals let go into the graceful dance of death

hawks float with impressive wingspans 

naturally floating shadows throwing quick roving shade 

pictures of surrender stay with me as I close my eyes

the cock crows over and over in the distance 

It’s here I know all that is true

My life’s greatest work 

is simply to notice, to bow and to say, 

Thank you

☁️

AL 7/1/17

go slow in the summer,

water the annuals in the dark.

find the line in the sky with the stars

and count them. 
point your finger to the clouds,

raise your glass to the moon,

say a pray while sweeping the patio,

bless the mailman as he delivers the letter…

that connects the states

that reminds you of childhood,

that anticipates the arrival

that prepares the heart,

for the union of friendship
go slow in the summer

pick just the right watermelon

and the soda with the bubbles,

the jar of pickles with the spears

and the bag of peaches from the back of the truck

in the parking lot…
go slow in the summer

when you walk the puppy in the park,

put the grandchildren onto a swing,

push the bicycle up a hill

flag down the ice-cream truck as it comes around the corner
go slow in the summer

watch the rose unfold,

write with pen and ink from a bottle,

find a stamp with a heart that you love.
Beauty,

Rev. Donna Knutson

Here I go again… 

So, I keep finding these amazing poems (some of them my own) and I keep thinking, ‘oh man, that would be GREAT for L:a&a! Too bad I don’t do that anymore…’ 

Yesterday I continued that thought with another…’why don’t I start again?’

To that question I (after a million reasons why or why not) answered, ‘yes!’ Wooo hooo! 

So, here I am! 

Sharing my devotion… 

to life itself,

to being in the gritty-real of healing,

to finding my own ground,

my own place of joy,

that’s been my life work, 

that is my goal!

In poems I find 

my home

my ground 

my hope

my truth

my joy

my second chances

my new beginnings

my song

my silence

my grief

my healing

my love

my life

my laughter

my tears

my centre

my source

my mystery

my colors

my dignity

my grace

my foolish

my wise

my resistance 

my surrender 

my revolution 

my rebellion 

my peace 

my place

my faith

my trust 

my questions 

my serenity 

my heroes

my salvation

💞

AL 7/2/17

I’m not sure if this will come back as a daily, but just these new returning-to-this moment is really feeling exciting! 💞 

Do you know how long this road? 

He cocked his head and asked,

I’ve been to SanTiago – 500 miles gone past

Now I sit here wondering 

how long this trip will last

another trip around the sun 

I got here pretty fast
Then she said,

Im a long road girl

I don’t count no miles

I’m a long road girl

I just count the smiles

Of all the people

Everyday

Of all the friends

Along the way

That’s all that matters

Matters too

A long road girl

Longing for a view
Do you want to sing a while? 

He bowed his head and asked,

I’ve found a tune for playing – a thousand more come fast

I’ve written you a song or two – 

that’s how our miles will pass

another trip around the sun 

The flowers will bloom at last
Then she said,

I’m a long road girl

I will sing my songs

I’m a long road girl

won’t you sing along

to all the people

Everyday

To all our friends

Along the way

That’s all that matters

Matters too

A long road girl

In love with you
Starshine to stardust

oceans to earth 

Songshine to songburst

Filling the sky

Roaddogs to roadmaps

Pathways are paved

Free-falls to freebirds

see how we fly

🎆

AL

Omg! This! 🤣 happy tears beautiful people!! 

Very glad to share the path with you, and yes, 

there will always be chocolate 💞