life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Adventure”

thanks-living    


From this bench 

I can see four Miles

I have walked Miles ahead with each

two have shared 

this very spot with me

in flesh and bone

two have been here in the spirit

of friends benches

and Anam Cara soul connection 

Miles

and 

Miles

and

Miles

a dog named Miles –

and many the Miles

to come –

each of my Miles inform my living

have had vast impact 

in my heart 

Letting go is my continual lifework

surrender my career

I’ve let go of everyone,

everything,

I’ve ever loved. 

I carry them,

green, rooted trees,

within me. 

I am done with questions,

I am committed to this process of my becoming. 

I am a force of the nature of love. 

I have no regrets,

no demands. 

I fly with the seagulls,

bend low before the burning bushes,

I sit in the holy hush of the Sound of silence,

letting go,

seeking new understanding. 

the deep places within me

give thanks for each piece of love I have experienced,

The blue sky shouts out to me 

all that is coming…

the best is always yet to be,

Yes, coming to me and through me,

as I break the newly discovered 

hardened edges of my heart

to allow 

freedom

for you

and 

me

💜

AL



this spud’s for you


The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.

     / Elie Wiesel


Pomme Frites

drizzled with truffle oil,

sprinkled with sea salt…

who can stop,

once you’ve tasted heaven?

Why have we been taught to protect our hearts?

to live without passion?

told that our sensitivity is a weakness,

not a gift?

We settle for what we consider control,

which is a sham,

an illusion of the most fragile,

arrogant tomfoolery. 

We shut down,

become indifferent,

avoid the messy feelings,

shields holding our hearts at bay, 

afraid of breaking, 

in desperation, keeping grief out of our business,

allowing life, and love, to go limp and cold, 

lying in the oily, paper-lined, basket,

no one wants to eat this. 

What will it take to taste ourselves again?

to reach for another emotion,

and then another,

unable to resist,

as we do for another hot, crunchy, delicious french fry?

Only when we allow all of our emotions,

the full spectrum of our living,

pain and sorrow,

love and joy,

all felt passionately 

within our living moments,

our numbered days,

can we become our true selves,

will we allow our highest and best to be revealed?

Only then, can we even begin to step into our lives,

our true hearts,

the love, which we truly deserve,

our humanity. 

Once we have have been stripped of our need for perfection,

love begins,

once we get a taste of this,

we can’t stop reaching,

exploring the shadows,

and the light,

eating the good fruit of the ground,

opening further and further 

to the mystery dug in this ground. 

Only then can we begin to open into our own unique and precious gifts

Only then,are we finally ready to begin authentically sharing ourselves, 

and our gifts,

with others. 

🍟

AL

let us never forget to make our days count and be aware that how we live, and what we leave behind us, matters. 

page turner   


A hill or edge or precipice,

horizon out and mystery

above, beneath, within.
Departure, limen: driveway,

pier, or gate, or aisle,

a road; and a goodbye.
A parting; sorrow, mostly

masked, and wonder.

Fear of what is next.
Riven wide enough for light,

made empty space enough 

for pouring in of this:
a breathing— listen— low,

a hope, a vision, passion, 

story told and still unfolding,
woven in your bones and 

pouring through your veins,

and every other soul.
In all those faces, rapt

or gaping, still unknowing,

God has set a flame
not yet but soon to burst,

to shine, to speak. That’s why

Christ came, and came again: 
to breathe it back into us. All

the love of God is there, now,

in your hands, your wanting hands.
The space awaits. The silence 

breathes. The road an arm, a hand.

Begin. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


Strange to realize 

on our very worst day of life

someone else is having their very best. 

Every death 

is countered with birth. 

Every grieving tear 

with belly laughter.

On the night we see the stars fall

the sun is rising on the other side of the world. 

The human spirit cannot be conquered

we rise again with each fall,

else we do not rise at all,

and come to the end,

which is another new beginning. 

Tides come in

as tides go out. 

With every broken heart

there is an answering new moment of love. 

For every first kiss 

a final slamming of the door – 

figuratively or literally. 

For every threshold we cross

we must cross again in a new moment. 

We each have moments of glory 

moments of defeat. 

Worry is the paper tiger 

which strips our moments of joy. 

Illusions of control hide behind our eyes

always revealed to be a waste of our precious resources. 

There is a time for every season. 

In all we are to bring the sacrifice of praise. 

It is the amazing hat-trick to the healing of our wounds 

that in every single circumstance 

we stand in the truth of that moment

and we give thanks,

or curse the darkness. 

Our choices lead us ever onward

toward the life

we will leave behind,

life happens while we make plans,

all we have slips daily through our hands. 

What will we do with your extraordinary, astonishing gift?

🖐🏼

AL


photo sources found at http://www.pinterest.com

stillpoint


Psalm of the Threshold
Eternal One, I praise you on this threshold;

         the door opening is to you.

Under your eye I pack my belongings;

         in your arms I move to a new place.
By your Spirit guide my hand

         to take only what you give me

         and leave the rest;

to bring with me what is truly need

         and leave behind what is unneeded.

Give me faith to trust 

         what cannot be left behind,

and to release what I thought was part of me

         but was only the leaves of a season.

Give me grace to say goodbye

         even to myself

and turn and welcome the new day,

         even in my own soul.
God of time and story,

         may I ever dwell on thresholds,

between then and not yet,

         in the present, moving.

By your grace open doors;

         by your grace lead me through them.

For every door is your eye

         and every path is the palm of your hand.

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

so I stand at the threshold 

of everything new

looking for the key

to the open front door

I stand at the edge 

of all that I am

wanting what could be

instead of what is

afraid of not knowing

yet knowing I know

cause I’ll never walk alone

The best is yet to come

🚪

AL


I will not die an unlived life. 

I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days, 

to allow my living to open me, 

to make me less afraid, 

more accessible, 

to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, 

a torch, 

a promise.

 I choose to risk my significance; 

to live 

so that which came to me as a seed

 goes to the next as a blossom 

and that which came to me as a blossom, 

goes on as fruit.

🍇🍎🍏🍊🌽🍒🍓🍋🍉🍑

Dawna Markova


nothing is more powerful than beauty in a wicked world…     – Amos Lee    


I asked the earth, I asked the sea and the deeps, among the living animals, and things that creep. I asked the winds that blow, I asked the heavens, the sun, the moon, the stars, and to all things that stand at the doors of my flesh…My question was the gaze I turned to them. Their answer was their beauty. 

   – St Augustine


Lovers find secret places inside this violent world
Where they make transactions with beauty. – Rumi

Close your eyes. 
Fall in love. 
Stay there. 
                       – Rumi

We live, shields up,
prepared for battle,
expecting war. 
We harden ourselves, 
with the best of intentions. 
Our best defense is protective prevarication. 
Our best offense is distracting laughter. 
Violence becomes a way of life. 
Tenderness becomes a thing we try to remove from our children 
as early as possible. 
We think we know this – 
if we can control the carnage, 
if we don’t allow our weaknesses to drag behind us
like toilet paper stuck to our shoe, 
No vulnerabilities allowed to peak out like saggy undergarments. 
No imperfections leaking out of our ears or fingertips,
we’ll win.  
We got this. 
We set life up without possibility of change,
without allowing any new circumstances to come to us…

then love comes 
with it’s un-understandable mystery 
and finds us not ready. 
Who could ever be ready for this?
then we seek places,
benches, beaches, back seats…
places to share with the other. 
unexpected moments of joy and connection 
find us at newly found secret spots
where shields are lowered,
vulnerability given,  
tenderness ruthlessly
invades the moment
and beauty is transacted. 
soul’s mingle,
hands touch. 
Life gets messy and wet. 
Car windows steam up on drizzly mornings
as love comes peeking through
working to melt stony hearts,
to return us to joyful living 
these are the moments life was made for,
two souls torn from the same clay,
loving each other for a million years and more,
suddenly find each other within the same moment,
and it takes our breath away. 

or 

we build an igloo 

and refuse the gift. 

It’s always our choice. 

❤️💔

AL





photo sources found at http://www.pinterest.com

she talks to trees 


each tree grows in two directions at once, into the darkness and out to the light with as many branches and roots as it needs to embody its wild desires. 

🌳

    –  John O’Donohue


Sky, embrace storm.

Let there be a stillness

around your whirlwind.
Breathe in chaos, breathe out

impossible turquoise blossoms

of transparency.
Ignite the cinders of yesterday

and burn them completely

under the andirons

of your sternum.
With a gentle sigh release

your eternal spark,

an infinitesimal diamond

dense as the wisdom congealed
on a corpse’s brow.

Intelligence without words.

Understanding without thoughts.
Today’s forecast:

sunny with rain,

and no distinction

between sorrow and joy.
Now rest in a darker silence

where opposites dance

like long-estranged lovers
renewing their marriage vows

against the advice of all

their relatives.

____
Fred LaMotte


Sometimes I just lean
against the nearest tree trunk
lay my hands on the rough bark 
stand heart to heart with the ones who give me clean air
in return for the exhaled breath they need from me
I rejoice in how we keep each other alive
I brush my cheek against its rough chest
and we dance for a while to the music 
of the wind through the leaves
🌳
AL

st..st…stuck…


Stuck in the blues.  
I get stuck on silly things

Like rainy days

when my phone rings

I get stuck in parking spaces

And in hugs of biblical proportion

I get stuck in desperation of 

empty wallets

And gas tanks

And stomachs

And stalkers

And water bills

And Freddies

Some days i just get stuck in bed

Covers all up o’er my head

‘I cant get up’, I tell my clock,

‘Cause I am stuck, 

So just shut up’

I get stuck when my pillow gets hot

Or when it’s cold and I cry 

And ice sickles hang from my eyelashes  

I get stuck on random things

Like boots and shoes

And onion rings

When socks don’t match

Or there’s no cream

for my coffee

or my pie 

I get stuck

when stupid songs stick in my head 

The ones I just don’t want to sing

I get stuck when I think about what I want

Instead of what I have

I get stuck in a few more minutes…

Or another year goes by

Reminding me

I might get stuck dancing…

At your wedding to someone else,

Or on your grave,

Or in a dream about Madonna, and bananas and a cat who likes to pray

I get stuck eating meatball subs

And pumpkin muffins with extravagant amounts of butter

at times I get stuck in the blues

I know it’s sad

Yet mighty true

the hardest times to get unstuck

Are when my mind gets stuck on you

Stuck on you

Stuck on you

Yes I get stuck

Stuck…

St…st..st…stuck on you

☺️

AL 


it always comes down to choices       

Only when we rest in God can we find the safety, the spaciousness, and the scary freedom to be who we are, all that we are, more than we are, and less than we are.

             – Richard Rohr


The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,

The full round moon and the star-laden sky,

And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,

Had hid away earth’s old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,

And with you came the whole of the world’s tears,

And all the trouble of her laboring ships,

And all the trouble of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,

The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,

And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,

Are shaken with earth’s old and weary cry.

😔

The Sorrow of Love by William Butler Yeats
———
Do you have any idea how many princesses have gone unrecognized by their prince because of logic? Or how many princes have gone unrecognized by their princess because of pride? 
How many dreams were dashed when the handmaiden answered the door? Or when the gatehouse was mistaken for the mansion? Or when the calm before the storm of abundance and good fortune was viewed as a sign to retreat? 
Happily, we’ve got forever and ever. And fortunately, it’s never too late to see what one’s missed, remain focused on the dream instead of the hows, and move with unwavering faith. 
Yeeeee-haaaaaaaaaa!! 

         The Universe

           www.tut.com


freedom, 

oh freedom,

that’s just some people talkin’

cause your prison is walking through this world 

all alone. 


there is terrible beauty in every human heart 
tell me a story that will live with me forever
love always shares grace always wins
you can’t miss out
pay attention…
the message is always revealed at the appointed intersection 
letting go brings the right miracle
at the right time the song playlist repeats 
crazy love flows into mystic waters
deep calling to deep
honor chooses to say yes to the best invitations
making the call brings me the messages I need 

there is always more than enough to share

gratitude buckets fill and overflow
removing scales from blurry, tearful, kaleidoscope eyes 
as perfect peace falls into rightful place
color shards blooming into new masterpieces of never before seen glory
diamonds dance on the water

herons bring messages of great importance, 

delivered via my beautiful Mama Bird, 

fluent in language of bird, tree, dreams and laughter…just to name a few. 
flaming beauty evolves, drives me to my knees,
shedding shoes, and fear, 
as I pray
I lift my face to the evening sky 

and soar free
full wing, open soul, with the hawks,
who always fly in trust that they are enough
right here, and in every tick of time,
in, and in-between, every click of the second hand,
around the bend of eternity and back again

💞

AL

TRUE LONGING 


When you forget or repress the truth and depth of your invisible belonging and decide to belong to some system, person, or project, you short-circuit your longing and squander your identity. To have true integrity, poise, and courage is to be attuned to the silent and invisible nature within you. Real maturity is the integrity of inhabiting that “immortal longing” that always calls you to new horizons. Your true longing is to belong to the eternal that echoes continually in everything that happens to you. Real power has nothing to do with force, control, status, or money. Real power is the persistent courage to be at ease with the unsolved and the unfinished. To be able to recognize, in the scattered graffiti of your desires, the signature of the eternal.  

💞

John O’Donohue 

Excerpt from ETERNAL ECHOES


TOUCH is what we desire in one form or another, even if we find it through being alone, through the agency of silence or through the felt need to walk at a distance: the meeting with something or someone other than ourselves, the light brush of grass on the skin, the ruffling breeze, the actual touch of another’s hand; even the gentle first touch of an understanding which until now, we were formally afraid to hold.
Whether we touch only what we see or the mystery of what lies beneath the veil of what we see, we are made for unending meeting and exchange, while having to hold a coherent mind and body, physically or imaginatively, which in turn can be found and touched itself. We are something for the world to run up against and rub up against: through the trials of love, through pain, through happiness, through our simple everyday movement through the world.
And the world touches us in many ways, some of which are violations of the body or our hopes for safety: through natural disaster, through heartbreak, through illness, through death itself. In the ancient world the touch of a God was seen as both a blessing and a violation – at one and the same time. Being alive in the world means being found by the world and sometimes touched to the core in ways we would rather not experience. 
Growing with our bodies, all of us find ourselves at one time violated or wounded by this world in difficult ways, and still we live and breathe in this touchable, sensual world, and through trauma, through grief, through recovery, we heal in order to be touched again in the right way, as the physical consecration of a mutual, trusted invitation.
Nothing stops the body’s arrival in each new present, except death itself, which is intuited in all cultures as another, ultimate, intimate form of meeting. Nothing stops our ageing nor our witness to time, asking us again and again to be present to each different present, to be touchable and findable, to be one who is living up to the very fierce consequences of being bodily present in the world.
To forge an untouchable, invulnerable identity is actually a sign of retreat from this world; of weakness, a sign of fear rather than strength, and betrays a strange misunderstanding of an abiding, foundational and necessary reality: that untouched, we disappear.

Excerpted from ‘TOUCH’ From 

CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment 

and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. by David Whyte


let’s do something new
me and you
let’s travel uncharted territory 
make new maps of all we find

let’s create a new heaven
and a new earth
just by touching each other’s souls
tracing hearts around each other’s scars

being kind to one another

let’s do something extraordinary 
something spectacular 
 something world changing
something wild

let’s create a brand new star
just by loving each other
so completely 
it starts a supernova of epic proportion

let’s do something fun
something we can laugh at forever
something to bring joy into the room
peace into this broken world

💞

AL

Things take their own time. The seeds planted do not sprout the next day, but that does not mean they never will. Be patient. Your life only gets better when you do. Work on yourself and the rest will follow. You will bloom to the person you were always meant to BE. — Unknown

gifts appear  


I give you an emptiness,

I give you a plenitude,

unwrap them carefully. 

— one’s as fragile as the other —

and when you thank me

I’ll pretend not to notice the doubt in your voice

When you say they’re just what you wanted. 
Put them on the table by your bed. 

When you wake in the morning

they’ll have gone through the door of sleep

Into your head. Wherever you go

they’ll go with you and

wherever you are they’ll wonder,

smiling about the fullness 

you can’t add to 

and the emptiness

that you can’t fill.  
When you feel nothingness 

and emptiness gnawing at your life, 

there is no need for despair.

 This is a call from your soul, 

awakening your life to new possibilities. 

Nothingness is the sister of possibility. 

🎁

Presents by Norman MacCaig


knowing the way,
learning when to say yes –
when to walk away

how to tell the differences between, 
the people truly wanting to change themselves, thus the world, 

your helpers, 

the light-walkers, 

from the ones with underlying, unsavory, motivations
– discernment,

intuition –

we use them everyday
or we get ourselves into
hot,
sticky,
uncomfortable 
situations…
where we hone our skills
by finally struggling,

 like a fly in the spider web,

finally extricating ourselves 

as we learn our newest lessons

the, God awful,
hard way
🎁

AL



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