life: acoustic & amplified

waiting for the next step

Right where you are is where you need to be. Don’t fight it! Don’t run away from it! Stand firm! Take a deep breath. And another. And another. Now, ask yourself: Why is this in my world? What do I need to see?

Trees are beginning to turn.

They turn toward me.

They walk with me,

along the turning road.

Teach me, friends,

the grace

of turning.

_______________

Weather Report

Release,
as the winds of grace
lift from you
the burdens
of all you possess.
Changing winds
will shift what you think you need;
expect heavy things
to precipitate out of your life.

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

~

Liberty —

as observed on the cutting room Floor

*

* *

the level of some on a rise

this — after a thing

not

to convey

the hierarchical

like

— a more personal cosmos

& more so, thankfully

if you like —

enumeration of virtue

versus irony of some displeasure

not innately obvious

until

upon closer inspection

that heady feeling —

as after just tasting a fine wine

— is your

cue

do you see now — I know you

perhaps

more than you imagined

rumination

is following inspection in

some

logical process —

your

flow

fashioned from scraps..

~

m.e.

9/16

(c) ‘17 miguel.J.escobar

Stillness is not the absence or negation of energy, life, or movement. Stillness is dynamic. It is unconflicted movement, life in harmony with itself, skill in action.

It can be experienced whenever there is total, uninhibited, un-conflicted participation in the moment you are in – when you are wholeheartedly present with whatever you are doing.

~ Erich Schiffmann

“In music, silence is more important than sound… Always listen for what you can leave out.” ~Miles Davis

❤️

Everything is destructible

Everybody is replaceable

The silence between the notes, however long or short, make the music

listen close, your song is always playing

just beneath the white noise

life is flow

flow is life

Deconstruction can be a beautiful process

unexpected beauty is revealed in surprising places and faces

the tiniest pieces – scraps even –

can make a lovely prayer shawl

to cover the coldest lonely spaces

or warm the shattered hearts

Fall teaches us the beauty of letting go

into the arms of dismantling the fences we construct

peace only comes with surrender at the proper time

times fullness births us into the light over and over

catching our awed breath we bow

colors we’re not familiar with brighten our fields of flowers 3′ below

our golden footsteps

then are immediately washed away by moon tide and wind rivers

yet forever remain as layers of transformation for every footstep passing there-after

each day’s sun sets with soft grace

the most grateful never forget to say,

‘Thank you so very much for this blessed day of life’

☀️

Amy Lloyd

< img src=”https://lifeacousticandamplified.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/img_2210.jpg&#8221; height=”2334″ class=”wp-image-13593″ width=”2334″>Sun is trying to shine

It is Autumn of the first year

I watch for red sumac signs

For heavenly mentors

For wisdom women to approach my front door.

For memory to return to this earth

Without the parallel movements of here and beyond

But that does not exist any longer.

There is a place more sacred and tender

Where we hold on

We listen through

We pass between.

A gap, perhaps

And yet,

There is no compromise

Pure invitation

That what is gone

Is merely illusion

And death has never won.

It is now the twenty-fourth year

Of Autumn

And what I had assumed was loss,

Is merely shadow on the bark of an aspen tree

In the woods of the North.

Rain comes in the middle of the morning,

Ducks pass by on the pond

Jesus comes for conversation

We share two Adirondack chairs

A cup of apple spice tea

While I read Hafiz.

We are now old friends

Beauty,

Rev. Donna Knutson

the stuff of living a life

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt,

containing a tornado. Dam a

stream and it will create a new

channel. Resist, and the tide

will sweep you off your feet.

Allow, and grace will carry

you to higher ground. The only

safety lies in letting it all in –

the wild and the weak; fear,

fantasies, failures and success.

When loss rips off the doors of

the heart, or sadness veils your

vision with despair, practice

becomes simply bearing the truth.

In the choice to let go of your

known way of being, the whole

world is revealed to your new eyes.

~ Danna Faulds

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

Listen: there are those of us from somewhere else,

the names of birthplaces, of hometowns,

under our skin, tattoos always felt, never seen.

We live here now, though we always meant to leave.

And there are those of us who were born here,

passing the landmarks of our lives so often

we don’t think about them. We never meant to stay.

This place was marked as just for now, as stepping stone,

as temporary on our well-drawn maps.

But for one reason or another, years pass

and we find ourselves hot-stepping with jobs and kids

and this and that and a million little possessions.

Now, the kids say they want to move away. They point

their faces the same directions our faces used to point.

We’ll let them go, of course, knowing more of them

than they think will come back, and that various wayfarers

too will stop for lunch and find themselves

staying for years’ worth of dinners. They will all

find themselves here with the earth spreading

out around them, whispering a welcome

they will be more than a little surprised to hear.

🏡

Chorus by Gillian Wegener

your sweet song is calling

This is the one song everyone

would like to learn: the song

that is irresistible:

the song that forces men

to leap overboard in squadrons

even though they see the beached skulls

the song nobody knows

because anyone who has heard it

is dead, and the others can’t remember.

Shall I tell you the secret

and if I do, will you get me

out of this bird suit?

I don’t enjoy it here

squatting on this island

looking picturesque and mythical

with these two feathery maniacs,

I don’t enjoy singing

this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell the secret to you,

to you, only to you.

Come closer. This song

is a cry for help: Help me!

Only you, only you can,

you are unique

at last. Alas

it is a boring song

but it works every time.

❤

Siren Song by Margaret Atwood

If I wrote a poem today

it would be the saddest one you would ever read

It would break your heart into small pieces

and scatter them all over the world

It would cause you to cry new oceans into existence,

and all the stars would burn out from the pain of its essence

global chaos would ensue

the world, as we know it, end

Therefore, I will not write a poem today

I will wait for another day

when love has found me again

and my heart is a riot of joy

rather than sadness

then I will write a poem so brilliant

so brimming with sheer happiness

it will create a new heaven

and a new earth

where we will dance forever
and a long day after that

____________

Amy Lloyd

Is there no music now

except the chime

of coins in the pocket

for which a man would go breathlessly

off course, would even drown?

Odysseus tied to his mast

regretted his own foresight.

In ordinary days to come in Ithaca

the song of some distant bird,

the chords of water against

the shore, even Penelope

humming to herself at the loom

would make his head turn, his eyes

stray toward the sea.

~ Linda Pastan, The Imperfect Paradise

People say how can they feel good when there is so much bad going around? With so many people out there who are being mean to each other. My sister-in-law has cancer. Soldiers are dying from explosions; my response to that is you can’t feel bad enough to make someone else’s life better. You can’t get confused enough to un-confuse one person. You can’t get sick enough to heal one person out there so anytime you are feeling anything other than the good or God, what you are doing is contributing to rather than encouraging others to reconnect to their source.

                                                                                              – Dr. Wayne Dyer

thin places

 

The ocean,
all movement,
seems so still,
the surface of a mind,
the waves coming in
against the grain.

Behind me
two horses,
mine and another,
wait together
grazing in tall grass.
They are friends,
they know the way.

I sit and wait,
not for something,
just wait.
The afternoon floats by
overhead, white and puffy
in the blue of God.

You come up
out of the sea
to me though
it seems you have walked
down into my waters
and disappeared.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net 

My father was trying
to fix something

and I sat there just watching,
like I used to,
whenever something

went wrong.
I kept asking where he’d been,
until he put down a wrench
and said Listen:
dying’s just something

that happens sometimes.
Who knows
where that kind of dream comes from?
Why some things

vanish, and some
just keep going forever?

Like that look on his face
when he’d stare off at something

I could never make out
in the murky garage,
his ear pressed
to whatever it was
that had died—
his eyes listening for something

so deep inside it, I thought
even the silence,
if you listened,
meant something.

Ellegy for a Broken Machine by Patrick Phillips

 

I gaze at the stars
the night air and sounds
seep soft through open windows
crickets and coyotes mix with dogs and cars
the occasional child crying
then the soothing sound of a mothers voice
I lay on a hard mattress
my neck hurts
my heart aches
(the wonder is it’s not worse
what with the echoing, empty canyon
of my worried wallet)
I think about the wonder and grace
of this life I am living
how much I have learned
how that is only the surface
the stars are fading
the big dipper is going to sleep
my eyelids are getting heavy
time to find dream answers
on the other side
of my living
where anything can happen
messages waiting to be received
wisdom is unveiled in its proper time
the compass points the way home
❤

Amy Lloyd

Because the most difficult part about making something, also the best,
Is existing in the middle,
Sustaining an act of radical imagination,
I simmered a broth: onion, lemon, a big handful of mint.

The phone rang. So with my left
Hand I answered it,
Sautéing the rice, then adding the broth
Slowly, one ladle at a time, with my right. What’s up?

The miracle of risotto, it’s easy to miss, is the moment when the husks dissolve,
Each grain of rice releasing its tiny explosion of starch.

If you take it off the heat just then, let it sit
While you shave the parmesan into paper-thin curls,
It will be perfectly creamy,
But will still have a bite.

There will be dishes to do,
The moon will rise,
And everyone you love will be safe.

❤

Thursday by James Longenbach

https://youtu.be/_R552UFoXaA

on this day

Joy and sorrow are inseparable;

Together they come,

And when one sits alone with you

Remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

💞

~Gibran Khalil Gibran

 

 

It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.

It went on.
You were innocent or you were guilty.
Actions were taken, or not.

At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
Mostly, it seems you were silent—what could you say?

Now it is almost over.

Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.

It does this not in forgiveness—
between you, there is nothing to forgive—
but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment
he sees the bread is finished with transformation.

Eating, too, is a thing now only for others.

It doesn’t matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.

Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.

❤

It Was Like This: You Were happy by Jane Hirshfield

One day

after a very long time of grief,

I woke up

and remembered…

how water felt when I washed my hair,

fingers kneading the scalp

baptized and born.

How lemons smelled 

and my tongue recoiled,

chewing was no longer such work. 

and I could see red of a strawberry

and cut tiny pieces of banana and cantaloupe

for a tray in the garden. 

 ❤

One day

after a very long time of grief,

I woke up

and remembered…

the Light crushing all resistance

even the palms of my hands

healing 

and holy.

Even the mind of the heart

swirling in a consciousness that pulled back

a thousand veils,

all at once.

and I remembered.

❤

I woke up

I remembered

I rode on the revelation

for a very long time;

on the verbs

and the sway of the Yes.

The insistence of following

further

some radical desire

of collecting jars

to hold 

the

Light

❤

to set them near the sea

for others to follow

 ❤

Beauty,

Rev. Donna Knutson

❤                          ❤                              ❤                            ❤

I look around for a poem today
I search for words to flow in a pattern
I feel off,
disjointed.
Will they be pretty or painful?
raw or honeyed?
I’m not sure…
life is full
always both bitter and sweet,
so there is sure to be some of each
floating inside me today,
waiting for my pen to capture,
my hand will clench it to mark them into being,
the pure white paper
will be scarred to receive them.

What will I bring forth into the world today, regardless of my circumstance?
What will I call into time and space on this day as I walk through it giving and receiving?
What will I leave behind myself, like the trail of the snail, for others to experience?

On this day I will choose to sing
On this day I will choose hope
On this day I will choose sacrifice
On this day I will choose to proclaim the faithfulness of God
I will choose gratitude for this breath within me, within you
I will choose to share this amazing grace showered upon the good days and the bad days, the just and the unjust
Choices will make up my day, as they do every day
Today I will choose love

❤

Amy Lloyd

There is a brokenness

Out of which comes the unbroken,

A shatteredness out

Of which blooms the unshatterable,

There is a sorrow

Beyond all grief which leads to joy

And a fragility

Out of whose depths emerges strength.

There is a hollow space

Too vast for words

Through which we pass with each loss,

Out of darkness

We are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than all sound

Whose serrated edges cut the heart

As we break open

To the place inside which is unbreakable

And whole,

While learning to sing.

~ Rashani

you slipping through

It’s a little bit
true that the
hole in my jacket
pocket
the breast pocket
yeah all relaxed
has a hole &
pens keep
slipping through
one’s in the lining
but this one
perched
now it’s a writing
bird
silly black out there
wants to
tell its
song. Miguel’s
book was
in the air &
I was on
a train
my feet are cold
and you wouldn’t
be in the
air so
long it doesn’t happen
like this
there’s no climate
in a plane
and I was in one
but not on
earth
my mother
is gone
each thing I do
is a little
bit wrong. I’m willing
to apologize
but they never
help it’s
just pointing
out the hole
& people
forget but I
won’t forget
you

❤

A Little Bit by Eileen Myles

It has been so wet stones glaze in moss;
everything blooms coldly.

I expect you. I thought one night it was you
at the base of the drive, you at the foot of the stairs,

you in a shiver of light, but each time
leaves in wind revealed themselves,

the retreating shadow of a fox, daybreak.
We expect you, cat and I, bluebirds and I, the stove.

In May we dreamed of wreaths burning on bonfires
over which young men and women leapt.

June efforts quietly.
I’ve planted vegetables along each garden wall

so even if spring continues to disappoint
we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.

I have new gloves and a new hoe.
I practice eulogies. He was a hawk

with white feathered legs. She had the quiet ribs
of a salamander crossing the old pony post road.

Yours is the name the leaves chatter
at the edge of the unrabbited woods.

Dear One Absent This Long While by Lisa Olstein

Last night I was a child again
in Raleigh. And the
Dorich boys were on the roof
and my sister was
waiting behind the Monopoly
board and it was summer
and the heat was like
a separate personality and
dogs wandered here and
there unhindered by fences or
leashes and I could see
how my future spread out be-
fore me like a relief map
without relief and I only wanted
to fit in again, to find
my family intact, Scamp still
alive and my father,
regal in his recliner, an
ashtray full of cigarettes
near him and I wanted to say,
Father, stop now, stop please,
let this not be dream. Let it
be true that I am a child again
in Raleigh, under the
finest sun anyone had ever seen,
never to be seen again.

❤

Last Night I was a Child Again in Raleigh by Corey Mesler

I walk through the raspy voices of the fallen leaves

shuffle through the playlist of your memory

rifle through suitcases of past days

stepping on milestones strategically placed 

arriving at this moments’ frigid windchill 

to stand on the sandy shore

of blue skied tomorrows chloroformed dreams

full of next choices

to do

to be 

to want

to know

I turn toward the day, falling down with such grace

the brilliant colors of the future before me

the promise of love written all across the horizon

life, with all its beauty, sings my name softly

a lullaby, like no other,

sleep, child, all is well

you are love

you are loved

❤

Amy Lloyd

I sit, giving my weight to the chair.
I breathe. I wait. I behold.
The tree exercises patience,
lets go a leaf, pauses,
lets go a leaf.
I can’t see it
but the horizon embraces me.
The hills pass it on.
The ground abides.
Planets, too.
God unhurries, unworries.
A depth opens.
Presence wells up.
I have passed
out of the world of adjectives.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

hands of ❤️

The truth is you already know what it’s like. You already know the difference between the size and speed of everything that flashes through you and the tiny inadequate bit of it all you can ever let anyone know. As though inside you is this enormous room full of what seems like everything in the whole universe at one time or another and yet the only parts that get out have to somehow squeeze out through one of those tiny keyholes you see under the knob in older doors. As if we are all trying to see each other through these tiny keyholes.

But it does have a knob, the door can open. But not in the way you think. The truth is you’ve already heard this. That this is what it’s like. That it’s what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul.

⭐️

– David Foster Wallace

I wandered around with nothing more than time on my hands

I was lost in the night with no sight of you

And at times it was so blue and lonely

Heading for the light

Been close to the edge, hanging by my fingernails

I’ve rolled and I’ve tumbled through the roses and the thorns

And I couldn’t see the sign that warned me

I’m heading for the light

Oh, I didn’t see that big black cloud hanging over me

And when the rain came down, I was nearly drowned

I didn’t know the mess I was in

My shoes are wearing out from walking down this same highway

I don’t see nothing new, but I feel a lot of change

And I get the strangest feeling as I’m

Heading for the light

Oh, my hands were tired

Jokers and fools on either side

But, still, I kept on till the worst had gone

Now I see the hole I was in

My shoes are wearing out from walking down this same highway

I don’t see nothing new, but I feel a lot of change

And I get the strangest feeling as I’m

Heading for the light

I see the sun ahead, I ain’t never looking back

All the dreams are coming true as I think of you

Now there’s nothing in the way to stop me

Heading for the light

Now there’s nothing in the way to stop me

Heading for the light

Heading for the light

Heading for the light

⭐️

Songwriters: Bob Dylan / George Harrison

https://youtu.be/EDKwqIn711g

cut to the chase my friend

there are no good excuses

there is too much good not to wallow in gratitude

God dances us

woos us until we can’t help falling

head over heels

calling us to leave the past behind

step into a fresh page

now, right now

the flow of spirits connecting hearts will heal our wounds

boil it down to the clearest truth

what does it cost to live our highest life?

distilled wisdom imparted with every word we share

simplicity (distilled beauty),

kindness (distilled love)

and authenticity (distilled truth)

are earths highest spiritual achievements

give me passion for these three gifts of grace

the light always shines out of darkness

stars are not visible in the day skies

candles never staying hidden by the multitude of bushels

the wildfire burns away the dry grasses

a fine sprinkle of salt goes a long way to the discerning tastebud

laying on of hands warms the whole circle like a cashmere sweater

we are given choices (free will)

what we choose brings us heaven or hell

don’t base your longterm goals on short-term goods

always keep in mind what you want most

think about what you are tolerating once in a while

look in the mirror to see God’s reflection

staple it to your forehead

take it with you to staple it to the foreheads of everyone you meet

carry on now

carry on

💞

Amy Lloyd

The LORD is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked advance against me to devour me, it is my enemies and my foes who will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident. One thing I ask from the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock. Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the LORD. Hear my voice when I call, LORD; be merciful to me and answer me. My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, LORD, I will seek. Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me, God my Savior. Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me. Teach me your way, LORD; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors. Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, spouting malicious accusations. I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.

Psalm 27:1-14 NIV

http://bible.com/111/psa.27.1-14.niv

 

let go…don’t look back

This is the grip, like this:

both hands. You can close

your eyes if you like. When I say,

“Now” it’s time. Don’t wait

or it’s all over. But not

too soon, either–just right.

Don’t worry. Let’s go.

Both hands.

Survival Course by William Stafford

Nature,

my teacher

my school

my temple

my shed

my friend

my lover

my wonder

my wander

my passion

my peace

my darkness

my shining

my opening

my knowledge

my quests

my mystery

my luminosity

my path

my return

my budding

my harvest

my seasons

my eternal

my connection

my uniqueness

my blush

my beauty

my ravaging

my savaging

my circle

my arrow

my path

my journey

my longing

my desire

my tryst

my trust

my hope

my haven

my safety

my risk

my skip-itty-doo-dah

the hair on my chinny-chin-chin

my space

my intimacy

my solitude

my family

my found

my faith

my dancing

my lame

my music

my words

my rhythm

my song

my vision

my sight

my lost

my found

my sin

my soul

my tears

my laughter

my being

my belonging

my life

my love

my looking in

my letting go

my begging

my abundance

my start

my stop

my end

my beginning

my heart

my skin

my senses

my fences

my flash

my fire

my living

my death

my creator

my Spirit

my wound

my healer

my receiver

my giver

my adventure

my wild

my silence

my sound

my doo-be-doobie-do

my fa-la-la-la

my going

my coming

my heaven

my home

my ashes

my resurrection

my grounding

my wings

my births

my deaths

my everything

💞

Amy Lloyd

dreams fill a pewter pitcher, slowly

pour the contents of a summer

down a mahogany banister

to seep into forest green

how skies sigh, witnessing

the loss of a season- a gain

of wisdom shone in the dust

beading in the air by windows’ glare

how dusk cloaks and comforts

as a truth lit up in firefly eve

superimposed on a midnight blue sky

reminds the insidious questioner

is it you, or is it me– that forever

must go through this barely lit

tunnel – before stepping out–free!

to be touched by ancient filigree

~kate lamberg (c) ’17

Amen

how can I love you best right now?

STARS

You are tired, friend.

Your body aches to rest.

Give in.

You have wanted to fall apart for so long.

To let go of your defences.

To be transparent and authentic.

Your cynicism has protected you.

Your fear has served you well.

Your dreams of enlightenment were beautiful dreams.

But there is no need to hold your ‘self’ together any longer.

Surrender.

Or simply stop pretending that you don’t know ‘how’.

Fail.

Fall.

The vastness will hold you.

Only illusions can disappear.

The deeper the heart breaks

The more love it can hold.

Don’t tell me you are not worthy.

Don’t tell me you are not made of stars.

– Jeff Foster

at the end of the day,

you can make it

even if you think you can’t make it;

even when it doesn’t make sense,

when you’ve taken one trail,

said all the right things

done what you were supposed to

lived a good life,

and ended up far closer to the edge than you imagined.

even when you’re old

or somethings broken inside

when fields of sunflowers make you cry,

paint peels off old barns

you get thirsty from being faithful

waiting

for

preachers

to be born

for poets

to protest

for prophets

to plant rows of seeds in the Autumn

of the year

of the storms

for people to see,

truly see

that miracles

uncover the blind spots

wear thin the veils

create the impossible plagues

push waves

just beyond the shores

Christ incarnates

we begin again

pouring cups of tea

walking in the morning hours

working

wandering

wishing

Spirit moving

under my feet

Beauty,

Rev. Donna Knutson (via Facebook)

shared by Rabbi Stacy Offner at a vigil in Madison, Connecticut

💞

First they came for trans people and I spoke up – because God does NOT make mistakes!

Then they came for the African Americans and I spoke up – because I am my sister’s and brothers keeper.

And then they came for the women and I spoke up – Because women hold up half the sky.

And then they came for the immigrants and I spoke up – Because I remember the ideals of our democracy.

And then they came for the Muslims and I spoke up –

Because they are my cousins and we are one human family.

And then they came for the Native Americans and Mother Earth and I spoke up –

Because the blood-soaked land cries and the mountains weep.

They keep coming.

We keep rising up.

Because we Jews know the cost of silence.

We remember where we came from.

And we will link arms, because when you come for our neighbors, you come for us –

And THAT just won’t stand.

💞

-Rabbi Michael Latz

The sun will rise

and we shall have tea

We’ll eat

and hug

work

sing

pray

and play a bit

cry a little

laugh a little

give a little

take a little

love a little

lose a little

rain or shine

every slice has it’s own magic

Life is really

simple like syrup

let me see your sweet smile

then I can die happy

or live to face another day

❤️

Amy Lloyd

that field

Remember that meadow up above the ridge
where the dog ran around in circles
and we were tired from the climb up
and everything was tilted sideways
including the running in circles
of the ecstatic dog his bright tongue
lapping at the air and we were
leaning into the heart of the field
where no battle ever took place
where no farmer ever bothered
to turn the soil yet everything
seemed to have happened there everything
seemed to be happening at once enough
so we’ve never forgotten how full the field
was and how we were there too and full
❤

The Field by Tim Nolan

photo on Left by m.e.

❤

blue storm. yellow seeds.

Will you join me in this day out of time, drink a cup of life in a sweet pair-o-chairs?

Will you step forward into this moment of no moment, sitting on a friends bench, not numbered, to talk about the secrets of living?

Will you sing with me as the blue storm clears and the blue sky parts and the yellow days begin so full of the color of our passion?

Will you plant with me, all the yellow seeds of hope and home to make the weary pilgrims smile?

Will you stay with me, lay with me, in the fields of gold, where the children laugh and play? 

Will you grow old with me, under the ancient green oaks stately and, oh-so-wise, or when everyone else leaves, will you go too?

Will you love me today and still again tomorrow hold this empty space with me, even when the whole world begins turning once again and most everyone else forgets to pray? 

Amy Lloyd

{photos from google images}

❤

So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky
of this black August. My sister, the sun,
broods in her yellow room and won’t come out.

Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume
like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,
she will not rise and turn off the rain.

She is in her room, fondling old things,
my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls
like a crash of plates from the sky,

she does not come out.
Don’t you know I love you but am hopeless
at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly

to love the dark days, the steaming hills,
the air with gossiping mosquitoes,
and to sip the medicine of bitterness,

so that when you emerge, my sister,
parting the beads of the rain,
with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,

all with not be as it was, but it will be true
(you see they will not let me love
as I want), because, my sister, then

I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,
The black rain, the white hills, when once
I loved only my happiness and you.

❤
Dark August by Derek Wolcott

Sunflowers Photos by Charlie Doane / find Charlie on Facebook
Website link here

❤

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.

Rumi –