life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “beauty”

24 Jul 2016

soul feelings

He Played Three Violin Parts At Once, The Result Is A Spine-Tingling Version Of ‘Hallelujah’ You’ll Never Forget.


Music has been used for a variety of purposes, but many uses have been forgotten and lost. Work chants were used with sailors, field workers, slaves and soldiers to increase their productivity. Musical rhythms created patterns of organization and control movement – for an activity such as rowing a boat. It created unity and cooperation among workers. The musical rhythm set a work pace. It also helped people focus on the music and not the hard, and arduous work.
Some songs give people identity, like “our” song, and songs for a sports team or a group or nation. Jingles can persuade people to accept a certain point of view. Jingles are used extensively in China to promote political points of view and in advertising to encourage people to buy a product.
When ancient conquerors came into a new land, they quickly outlawed local music – as their music strengthened identity in a culture and its old ways. The Russians did this in Finland during World War II, outlawing the music, Finlandia, as it gave the local people courage and strength. Music has more power than we give it credit for.
Special uplifting music can change a person’s outlook, creating a window to heaven – a new way of feeling and thinking. Ancient people referred to music that altered and uplifted a person’s conscious as the “music of the spheres.”
Author Viola Pettit Neal, wrote about a novel use of music, “The conquest of evil will ultimately be accomplished by use of rituals of sound and form. For evil is that which is disharmonious and cannot exist in harmonious pattern of sound and form. The word ‘ritual’ in its true definition is an orderly movement of sound and geometrical form in sequential patterns.”[1] Neal suggests that harmonious music can overcome disharmony (evil). Many African tribes surround someone who has behaved badly, singing their name and song to them – reestablishing harmony. It makes sense that Osama bin Laden outlawed music for his followers. Guess it would be hard to prepare for a suicide bombing mission, when you were humming a breezy Beach Boys tune. Such harmony would make it near impossible to get people do heinous deeds.
Could we use music to change people that have done unscrupulous things? Why not use harmonic and healing music: In prisons, with children in trouble or business with poor reputations? Where negotiations are taking place? What about on a war front? How serious could people be about fighting, when everyone was singing Silent Night?
Research has shown that people easily believe others in a distant country are enemies – if they don’t know them. In contrast, if they know the people, they don’t want them to be hurt. What about sharing songs from countries to lesson international tension? If people like a country’s music, it will be harder to demonize their people – as the enemy. For example, racism against black people declined in the end of the last century, when young people loved black rap music.
The people of Estonia, a small Romanian country, had been slaves for thousands of years. As slaves, they were demoralized. When the abusive Czars were shot, the Estonians saw their chance for freedom, but had no courage to seize the opportunity. In a country of only a million people, half of them sang nonstop for a week. The energy created from singing – realigned their “will,” determination and spirit. They rose up and boldly gained their freedom.
Shortly after Hitler took control of Poland, Russia overpowered the Romanian countries. Under Stalin’s rule about a third of Estonians were randomly forced to work in Siberia. Most died. This practice terrorized the people. Later, Hitler as well as the Russians, enslaved Estonian men and forced them to fight against each other, with brothers killing brothers. Pain colored the Estonians with fear, shame, and horror; once again, breaking the spirit of the people.
After World War II, the Russian occupation created harsh conditions, little food, no jobs, no places to live, but plenty of fear. When the communist regime fell, the Estonian people found themselves again beaten down with no strength to gain their freedom.
Once again, the Estonian people came together with a song-festival for five days, with a half of million people attending. Afterwards, the Estonia people gained their freedom, crediting their courage to the energy created by singing. To this day the Estonian people hold a song-festival every five years.
Sound and music is chock full of hidden energy. Music is invisible, but its powers are greater than we ever dreamed of.
[1] Viola Pettit Neal, Through the Curtain, 1962. 

by 

Jill Mattson

 jill@jillshealingmusic.com


I love you wild –

like oceans, volcanoes, tsunamis and bees

I love you natural –

like seasons, rainbows, and falling leaves

I love you large –

like Grand Canyon’s,   

the mountains and sky

I love you small – 

like the atom, lady bugs, birds flying high 

I love you tender – 

like mamas with babies, 

and soft, falling rain

I love you strong – 

like soldiers with orders,

and wind on the plains

I love you like every cliche ever written

I love you with words that can never be spoken 

I love you in mystery I can’t understand

when hearing your voice

or seeing your hands

I love you deeper than knowledge

and wider than life

You fill me with beauty,

I am music, 

yes, music

you are my life

🎼

AL


photo sources at pinterest.com

Posted in art, attitude, beauty, beloved, Change, Choice, connection, find art at pinterest, grace, Gratitude, inspiration, intimacy, Letting Go, Life, Love, music, mystery | Leave a comment
22 Jul 2016

blank space


Today I find myself empty

Empty of words

Empty of color

Empty of strength

Empty of grief

Empty of empathy

Empty of ability

Empty of thoughts even

I’ve been here many times 

I understand it better now

I will allow

I will rest

rest from thought

rest from guilt

rest from wanting

rest from expecting 

rest from having to

rest from desire

I rest in my truth

rest in faith

rest in trust

rest in love

rest in what I believe 

rest in what I have experienced 

I will just be

stay open

stay present

stay here now

in wordless prayer –

Allowing the emptiness to be 

Today I am empty

and it is

well with my soul. 

💭

AL


Writing about empty mind is not easy.

When I have got it, there are no words.

When the words come, it goes away.
Sitting in anger and fear,

Mind is full of the past and future.

Images of catastrophes big and small

Jostle for a seat at the brain.

Resentment, incredulity and disappointment

Slide their way into heart spaces

Pushing out loving-kindness.

Equanimity lies in pieces.
Some of us scrape up that slimy

Emotional stuff and put it in jars

To carry along with us,

And then we complain that

Our load is too heavy.

We need to put down that

Lumpy sack of ooze

And take a breath.
The sage said,

“I pack no provisions for my long journey—

Entering emptiness under the midnight moon.”

He did not pack his ego,

Or his remembrance of self.

He carried no big plans

Or regrets of the past.

Like a wise fool he may have

Even forgotten to leave.

While he sits still in darkness,

The moon travels the sky.

🗯

Empty Mind by Tom Barrett


        

I have a small vial of clay

that used to hold my father’s ashes.

They’re on a hillside in Montana now;

the vial is clean and empty,

ready for me. 
I should keep it in my pocket,

hold it deep in the folds of my coat,

until I am folded into my little vial of clay.
It asks me, what is the difference

between you and clay?

The answer is water.

That, and love. 
The little vial of clay says daily:

drink water while you can,

and love. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


There is a community of the spirit.

Join it, and feel the delight

of walking in the noisy street

and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,

and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes

to see with the other eye.
Open your hands,

if you want to be held.
Sit down in this circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel

the shepherd’s love filling you.
At night, your beloved wanders.

Don’t accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.

Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.
You moan, “She left me.” “He left me.”

Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.

Think of who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison

when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.

Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always

widening rings of being.

🎴

A Community of the Spirit by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad 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.
       – Rumi


Posted in Alone, attitude, awareness, be, beauty, Becoming Yourself, beloved, Choice, connection, courage, emotions, Freedom, Gratitude, Grieving, healing, Letting Go, Love, mystery, Patience, Peace, Poetry, quiet, risk, soul and spirit, strength, transformation, Trust, truth, Vulnerability, www.pinterest.com | Leave a comment
21 Jul 2016

bits and pieces 

I gave myself permission to feel and experience all of my emotions. In order to do that, I had to stop being afraid to feel. In order to do that, I taught myself to believe that no matter what I felt or what happened when I felt it, I would be okay.     – Iyanla Vanzant


I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe

out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled

to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind

the manic dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,

exulting somewhat,

with my will intact to go

wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road

precious to me.

In my darkest night,

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice

directed me:

“Live in the layers,

not on the litter.”

Though I lack the art

to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter

in my book of transformations

is already written.

📝

The Layers by Stanley Kunitz


there are people and places

which live inside me

I feel them 

as I spin the kaleidoscope wheel

they come into focus

moments 

smells

textures

visuals

each hold exquisite love

each hold delicately intense, brutal, suffering 

each hold ruthless trust,

radical hope,

extreme faith,

continual healing. 

each person,

each place a threshold 

of practical practice,

of growth and becoming,

of wrestling with letting go,

of spiritual teaching towards love,

of defending my tenderness,

of stepping into ‘I am’,

of allowing myself,

of removing the toxic tarter buildup of my own soul,

of seeing glimpses of the unlimited, ever-unfolding mystery. 

I’m so grateful for these people,

these places,

the ones I carry,

seen,

and those still before me,

as yet, unseen. 

🕘

AL

Just past dawn, the sun stands

with its heavy red head

in a black stanchion of trees,

waiting for someone to come

with his bucket

for the foamy white light,

and then a long day in the pasture.

I too spend my days grazing,

feasting on every green moment

till darkness calls,

and with the others

I walk away into the night,

swinging the little tin bell

of my name. 

🔔

Birthday Poem by Ted Kooser

Posted in action, Adventure, attitude, awareness, beauty, Becoming Yourself, Beginning, beloved, Change, Choice, commitment, confidence, connection, courage, determination, do, Encouragement, find art at pinterest, Freedom, healing, Letting Go, Life, Love, Purpose | Leave a comment
18 Jul 2016

threads that won’t break 


On Dec 3, 2014 (2 year anniversary of my living death in the dark night of the soul, I got a post titled Love never Dies from Jen Lemen at Hopeful World http://hopefulworld.org

Here’s a taste of what it said:
I am struck also as I write to you from this wintery desk, that building our capacity for stillness helps so much when the wild comes to our restless souls. Without that practice of being quiet, it’s easy to be scared when our wild, instinctual thoughts pop up. It’s easy to think that they are bad somehow or in need of corralling. But the practice of quiet and stillness helps us recognize our instinctual knowing for what it is: a call to our most true nature. A call to a kind of expression that is more vibrant, more textured, more passionate, more alive–even if it’s a little bit messy. Even if it kicks up a little bit of shame that we are this human, this raw.
So I invite you today to sit with me for three magic minutes. I’ll be right here with you, my own mind a rollercoaster of crazy, of frantic, of nonsensical worrisome things. I’ll sit with you and notice everything in my own soul, while you notice everything in yours and together we will begin to knit together an understanding of what’s underneath that noise: a gorgeous, exquisite tapestry of human longing designed to carry us to an awake magnificent place.
Will you join me?

Setting the timer now.

Let me know how it is on the other side.
With so much love,

Jen
It’s now 3.5 years later and Jen Lemen is still bringing all that, and more to me, to you, to the shaky, hoping world, to the edges of eternity…love never dies. 
Today, in this crazy, brutal brutal place, where we ask…
how can these two people be our Presidential choices?
how can people keep killing other people?
how can I deal with the grief and the fear of this? 
how can I help?
what is the solution? 
what is my part? 
Jen Lemen is doing her part. She’s offering Soul Snacks – 
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
Amazing gifts to all of of struggling, hungry, hurting, angry, frustrated pilgrims and poets. 
Right now she has open enrollment and I have just this…
Don’t wait! http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks
Gobble this up, savor it a bite at a time, eat them from start to finish, or nibble from the middle to each edge of crust. Savory, delectable soul-spices involving all your most subtle senses. 
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks

I 

💞

Keep wrestling, burn, scream, let go, melt, let your heart keep breaking for the sake of your heart, keep saying the names of your people, fiercely defend your tenderness, think, grieve, repair, renew, continue to do what’s in your heart to do…each thread matters…each color makes the world more beautiful…
in the end, only love is eternal, only love remains…
http://www.thewayofdevotion.org/soul-snacks

🔥

AL


We are God’s thread

weaving through the tapestry,

the masterpiece is slowly 

created. 

Potential for beauty, we can’t know,

    unfolding,

       becoming,

          revealing glory 

so bright 

it makes the sun squint 

and reach for sunglasses.  

Brilliance so far beyond ourselves

we go shining into the gray

as we open to the new jewels appearing,

sparkling in the moonlight. 

As we step into the needle’s eye 

the angels catch their breath,

cheering our blazing garments,

dazzled by the vision

God is revealing through the creation. 

As we surrender to the greatest mystery,

the beauty we inhabit 

becomes us,

walking in humble clay

eyes out shining the stars 

set in the heavens. 

Until we totally disappear and all that’s left

is holiness 

so pure 

all we can do 

    is 

bow in wonder 

at ourselves

and give thanks 

as the silk thread 

becomes liquid gold and silver

pure and simple

glory

as we realize our place in the whole. 

We are the temple of our creator. 

The home of God. 

😎

AL



As deftly and finally as one pulls out a thread

someone is weaving them, gracefully tying them,

minute and irreversible.
In the towering sky, even under the fortress, 

root tendrils muscle in and bind ligaments

through an abyss we had been told was absolute.
No enormity of terror

can keep up  

with the steady, unseen healing. 
Before the assault, the horrible wound, 

gaping and exposed,

the stitching has already begun.
Even as we sigh in our own world,

moving on, separate,

we are being sewn in. 
In the earthquake, the collapsing mountains,

not a bit of rubble falls

on the path from the temple.
If you could hold your immortal soul

in your hands, you would hardly recognize it

from one moment to the next.
Your grave is already empty. 
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


photo sources found at pinterest.com

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16 Jul 2016

play me  



Lying here quietly beside you,

My cheek against your firm, quiet thighs,

The calm music of Boccherini

Washing over us in the quiet,

As the sun leaves the housetops and goes

Out over the Pacific, quiet—

So quiet the sun moves beyond us,

So quiet as the sun always goes,

So quiet, our bodies, worn with the

Times and penances of love, our

Brains curled, quiet in their shells, dormant,

Our hearts slow, quiet, reliable

In their interlocked rhythms, the pulse

In your thigh caressing my cheek. 

Quiet.

🎹

Quietly by Kenneth Rexrothg


🍅
when life gets hard

and love is dry

when hearts get hurt

and eyes just cry

there’s just one thing that’s left to try

pour some music on it

when times are tough

when money’s tight

you try to make it

with all your might

just one thing will make things right

pour some music on it

pour some music all around

on your head

on the ground

That’s the way that joy is found

just pour some music on it

when the night 

is dark and grim

the day is gray 

and hope is dim

Just wait for light, just fake a grin

and pour some music on it

pour some music all around

let it out 

let it pound

Just pump it up, dance to that sound

just pour some music on it

are you tired, are you fat,

are you wearing thin?

just pour some music on it

are you happy, are you sad, are you wearing skin?

just pour some music in it

are you red, are you white, are you feeling blue?

just pour some music on it

are you old, are you young, are you feeling new

just pour some music on it

🎼

AL




Posted in Adventure, art, attitude, awareness, beauty, Becoming Yourself, beloved, courage, Faith, find art at pinterest, healing, inspiration, intimacy, Letting Go, Life, Love, music, mystery, Prayer | Leave a comment
14 Jul 2016

color me cool 


perhaps we are

saving each other

one song at a time

endlessly moving 

wind, waves, water

kissing the shore

achingly beautiful

true colors

of black and white

melting together, dancing

in and out

through each other

ever weaving, creating

new life

filling the empty

emptying the full

like music 

itself

🎹🎹🎹

AL



It was after dinner.

You were talking to me across the table

about something or other,

a greyhound you had seen that day

or a song you liked,
and I was looking past you

over your bare shoulder

at the three oranges lying

on the kitchen counter

next to the small electric bean grinder,

which was also orange,

and the orange and white cruets for vinegar and oil.
All of which converged

into a random still life,

so fastened together by the hasp of color,

and so fixed behind the animated

foreground of your 

talking and smiling,

gesturing and pouring wine, 

and the camber of your shoulders
that I could feel it being painted within me,

brushed on the wall of my skull,

while the tone of your voice

lifted and fell in its flight,

and the three oranges

remained fixed on the counter

the way stars are said 

to be fixed in the universe.
Then all the moments of the past

began to line up behind that moment

and all the moments to come

assembled in front of it in a long row,

giving me reason to believe

that this was a moment I had rescued

from the millions that rush out of sight

into a darkness behind the eyes.
Even after I have forgotten what year it is,

my middle name,

and the meaning of money,

I will still carry in my pocket

the small coin of that moment,

minted in the kingdom

that we pace through every day

🍊🍊🍊

This Much I Do Remember by Billy Collins


He sculpts, carves, whittles

a fresh block of words 

he’s been led to 

by winds that whisper 

or make him shiver.
Slowly, lines take shape,                

come alive with sounds

the ear cannot hear;

reflections only seen 

by the inner eye; 

raw, natural scents 

from the tree itself.
He pulls colors from a rainbow,          

the surf, or maybe the sand;

at times he adds moisture 

from a tear.
And as with raw wood, 

he whittles—whittles, going with                          

the grain—braces the wood                                 

to flatten a knot, smiles at its 

character coming through—

will make a good piece. 
He sands until is all-over smooth, 

seals it with the joy of the craft, 

a fine piece that holds 

a part of himself—
now transformed into form 

     that lets the poem speak

🌈🌈🌈

The Poet and His Craft by Camille A. Balla




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

Posted in attitude, awareness, be, beauty, Becoming Yourself, color, courage, create, determination, Freedom, fun | Leave a comment
13 Jul 2016
1 Comment

otters and birthdays and glimpses of the mystery   


Yeah, so, the past month has been an intense one for me in every way. A bit emotionally brutal. We can all relate, I’m sure. It’s shown me a lot of new things about myself, also revealed some new glimpses of this mystical mystery named, so simply, “Love,” in our language. 

I’ve been a student of the nature of Love for the past 7 years, which doesn’t seem very long, now that I write it down, but, I have to report, just this short time of study, it has changed me in every area of my life. 

My studies are always, first and foremost, practical. To me nothing I ‘believe’ is worth anything if it does not actually work in my living to bring me healing, make me a better human, remove my baggage to reveal my highest and best self, lead me into paths of peace and load my arms with fruit to share with fellow pilgrims along the way…and, so, I began by asking God to reveal what love was and how love worked. 

My first flash came in 2009, riding on a CT commuter train from New Haven to Branford, looking at the marsh fly by. I had been asking for some days, intensely seeking, when God showed himself to me as ‘LOVE.’ That brief instant changed everything for me. I experienced the Aleph of The Mystery and left that train, completely changed a flash or, in real time less than 30 minutes…

Many wonderful writers have helped me along this open-ended, unlimited path of discovery on this topic. I must give much beautiful credit to Henri Nouwen, who helped me early on in my excavation of this topic. His revelations, and life surrendered to this mystery, have inspired much learning in my own voyage on this simple, yet so radical, path. 

Over these years, I felt lead to share some of my tiny bits of insight with others – it has just been so amazing! So beautiful! So everything – I just wanted others to open to it as well, to learn and heal along with me!  Over these years I have learned to be a writer and a poet. Until recently I didn’t feel I could claim those ‘titles,’ but I do now, just another way love has changed me. I am so grateful. 

This brings us to yesterday, which brings us to Frederick Buechner’s 90th birthday! Buechner is one of the best, most beautiful, writers ever. Sometimes I stop breathing when I read his words. I won’t say more, at this moment, as this is becoming a very long post, but here’s my best advice: read him! 

Recently someone, somewhere, on Facebook, posted words by poet, Fred LaMotte. They deeply touched me and so I ‘friended’ him. Then he began posting his words and I found myself on Amazon ordering one of his books. I received it last week, and it has been moving me into some very deep waters. 

Yeah, so, back to yesterday, I re-posted a happy birthday write-up about Buechner and then…

I got this comment from Fred LaMotte:

He was the reason I became a teacher and a school chaplain. When I was a 10th grader at Exeter Academy (near Boston) he was the school chaplain. It was before he became a writer. One dreary morning in late Winter, we were 700 half asleep boys in morning ‘Chapel’ (it was just an assembly really), and decided to read to us. He read the entire 7th chapter of ‘The Wind In The Willows,’ ‘Piper at the Gates of Dawn.’ It was very long and I think I might have been the only one stayed awake. It was amazing. Not only did it show me my first real piece of spiritual writing, but I thought, “Wow! This is his job? Reading to people about the great God Pan? I want to do this!” Thank you Frederick Buechner.

💞

WOW!! Then Fred LaMotte shared that chapter of the Wind and the Willows, ya know, the one that inspired some pretty intense poetry, which is, at this moment plowing up some new fields in my back forty…

Wow upon WOW!

Here’s that link. My advice: Read it!! 

http://yourradiance.blogspot.com/2013/03/piper-at-gates-of-dawn.html?m=1

I have not read The Wind in the Willows since I was a teenager, and, at that time I remember thinking it was rather stupid. My thoughts being something like, ‘Good grief, what in the heck is this about?’ 

Yesterday, I finally ‘got it!’ I broke down. I took my shoes off and bowed to the glory. Yesterday, a gift of love I offered was returned to me, unaccepted. I ‘got it!’ I broke down. I took my shoes off and bowed to the glory. There’s no right or wrong here, just gift. I choose to be only grateful to continue on in the, ‘yes and amen!’ of it all. 

I have no idea what Love (God) will teach me next. I am a very humble beginner. No Master here. Just a girl who cannot believe how lucky I am to be on this narrow road. A very unlikely pilgrim, I. Always wearing inappropriate shoes for climbing these steep hills, but somehow, always getting the view of the most beautiful sunsets imaginable. I guess it’s true what Babe Ruth said, ‘You can’t beat a man who keeps getting up!’

Here’s a song I wrote for my children’s musical about my life of faith, named: The Fantastical Inside-Out-Upside-Down Journey of a Rich Little Poor Girl 


 You Otter Know (verses spoken in the style of Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant/choruses in Sinatra style)

I was walking in the forest 

I was feeling all alone

The birds and bees were sleeping,

the weeping willow weeping
Then I heard a little creature

Start moving oh so slow

and the little brook began to play

music with its toes

the woodpecker was keeping time

upon that tall oak tree

and I could not help start dancing

cause I knew it was for me

and as I whirled and twirled about 

I came upon a log

and the beaver and the otter (Frank Sinatra style Beaver. Sammy Davis Otter)  

were acting more like hogs (pushing each other to get to the log stage with microphone) 

and then they each began to croon

they’re words were oh so rare

I stood there for a moment

my foot still in the air
and they sang to me…
You otter know I love you

loved you from the start

(if you’ll beaver me

then I’ll beaver you

You never walk alone)

You otter know I love you

love your precious heart

(beaver me it’s true

I’ve always loved you

You’re never far from home)
and the band it just kept playing

and my happy heart did gasp

Cause this was so much better

than that silly talking a** 

uhhh donkey
Then my heart it felt so happy

and my eyes at last could see

That though I hadn’t been aware

You’d never once left me

and as I danced on down that path

 I swear I sang this song

The one my friends had written,

which had been there all along
and I sang…
You otter know I love you

loved you from the start

(if you’ll beaver me

then I’ll beaver you

You never walk alone)

You otter know I love you

love your precious heart

(beaver me it’s true

I’ve always loved you

You’re never far from home

💞

AL

Ephesians 1:4

Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes.  

New Living Translation




You don’t have to melt

until you are ready. 

Remember this:
Each moil of your unoiled joints,

every numb stiff gristle of resistance,

cramp of anger, clabber of shame,
clot of envy, opinion or belief,

is simply a mass of refusal

contracted into “me,”
a particle afraid to waltz

with its field, a wave

that will not settle to its sea,
a sky who thinks it is a cloud,

a self who didn’t give up

I-dentity…
Don’t let go until you’re

ready, friend. You have forever. 

You remember this:
To melt is not to pass away,

but to pulverize diamonds 

with your dancing,
watch the spiraling fire

of your body, and witness

the whirled. 

🔥

Alfred K. LaMotte


Some mornings 

I wake up a king,

anointed, anticipated,

shining.
Some mornings

I wake up a pilgrim,

on a journey yet unseen,

but on a road laid out

with adventures to be met.
Some mornings 

I wake up a mule.

No power to wield,

nowhere to go,

just me, just here,

dull and pointless.
Those days

I must be 

most vigilant and ready,

for my master 

is a good samaritan

and I never know

when I will be needed

for something luminous.

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


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

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12 Jul 2016

I am fascinated by bold individualism       – Charles Cooper (meee tooooo!!!❤️)


dark matter sutra

.

last nite in the dark sky

a fox was calling

this eerie voice scathing scratching the air 

scaring every living thing around

straight out of a horror movie or worst 

some scary witch after me

 for all my past sins and debauchery 

I was ready to lock the doors

grab a pitch fork

throw the covers over my head

.

who knows really what a fox really is

maybe a prisoner in a fur body

trying to get out

some convict from a strange distant galaxy

“ .. and for your crimes against humanity

we shall set you on another world

known as earth

in strange body

with strange bedfellows

 whizzing bullets

and hungry wolves”

.

no matter what religion or science says 

you never really know

who or what is in these other bodies

each of us stardust 

catapulted from the infinite womb 

dark matter given form

like blue hanuman

or immortal sunlight

.

I will call out to you from the wilderness

a purple cloud in a wide room

a child with a halo

a bed of moss

or some eagle soaring above the plane

in a total act of rebellion 

from his dark matter sutra 

.

.

.

Adam DeFranco (c) 2016


NO PATH
‘There is No Path that Goes all the Way’

:-Han Shan
Not that it stops us looking 

for the full continuation. 
The one line in the poem 

we can start and follow

 

straight to the end. The fixed belief 

we can hold, facing a stranger 
that saves us the trouble 

of a real conversation. 
But one day you are not

just imagining an empty chair 
where your loved one sat. 

You are not just telling a story 
where the bridge is down 

and there’s nowhere to cross. 
You are not just trying to pray 

to a God you always imagined 

would keep you safe. 
No, you’ve come to a place 

where nothing you’ve done

 

will impress and nothing you 

can promise will avert 
the silent confrontation, 

the place where

 

your body already seems to know 

the way, having kept 
to the last, its own secret 

reconnaissance. 
But still, 

there is no path 

that goes all the way,
one conversation 

leads to another,
one breath to the next 

until
there’s no breath at all,

just

 

the inevitable 

final release

of the burden.
And then,

wouldn’t your life 

have to start

all over again

for you to know

even a little

of who you had been?
…
Excerpt from ‘NO PATH”

From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems by David Whyte


return to your own path

love leads us ever onward

to the open skies of freedom

❤️

AL


photo sources @www.pinterest.com

Posted in Adventure, attitude, awareness, beauty, Becoming Yourself, beloved, Change, Choice, confidence, connection, courage, determination, Encouragement, Faith, find art at pinterest, Growth, healing, home, Hope, Letting Go, Life, Love, Miracles, mystery, Passion, Quotes | Leave a comment
11 Jul 2016

peace. love. seal the deal.   – Miles  


White and black cannot be found

in the ruins and valleys of a human face. 

You’re the dust in a wrinkled rainbow,

whorled pallet of earth tones,

ginger, sorrel, burnt sienna. 
Who called you “white,”

that disdain for shadows,

color of the fear of falling 

through the prism of contradictions?
You are not white, you are oak,

apple wood and dandelion. 

Make wine of yourself. 

Make a barrel of your bones. 

Acquire the flavor of your ancestors. 
Who called you “black,”

that abstraction of a laughing tear?

You are not black, you have sown

sunset in your cheek furrows. 

You are banyan, and mahogany,

kola nut and olive, cocoa bean of grief,

kinnikinnik of the sacred pipe. 

You are the night. 
Voracious love has dipped us both

in honey, meshed our dreams

in darkest cilia, netted our souls

like mushrooms in sweet loam,

the wild manure of one dragon. 
Through innumerable pungent roots

the same juice bears us upward

into starlight. 

🌠

Who Told You? by Alfred K. LaMotte



my heart hurts today

for this pain. 

I feel great sorrow,

shattering grief,

love cracks me open,

allows me to feel this

hurricane of rage,

this fraction of our creation –

soul division. 
for what we,

as human-kind,

have chosen to accept

within the soil of our borders,

our birthright is so much more. 

we are each beloved. 

we are royal, each and every one. 
sadness sits on me,

a heavy fog,

as I drive,

wait, 

pay,

that smarmy man 

with the weird goatee,

wearing the faded Jack Daniels t-shirt,

I try to love him – 

I humbly admit my failure today,

I promise to keep trying, 

it is my only hope to change this world.  

I return to my place in this universe,

the one I belong to for this moment –

I walk a mile quickly

my angst 

mixing with grief 

tears won’t stop

I walk this beach,

so familiar,

yet always new.

I pick up rocks, 

I move from rocks,

to sand,

to benches. 

I stand while the gulls float,

so easy,

so secure,

so assured,

so secure,

so loved,

so free. 

As I watch

peace fills me…
I let go…
always a brutal struggle for this stubborn girl, 

(I prefer to name that quality ‘determined’)

always, always, worth it. 
trusting life is a ruthless business. 

I choose to live,

I choose to feel,

I choose to open,

I choose to pay attention, 

I choose to connect,

I choose to participate,

I choose to love,

ruthlessly. 

What about you? 

💞

AL


God grant you the eyes of heaven

         to see each person’s divine belovedness

                  and so find joy.
God grant you a listening heart 

         to hear the cries of the silenced, 

                  and so gain wisdom. 
God grant you humility

         that unburdened by yourself

                  you may be free.
God grant you courage 

         to enter the world’s dark wounds, 

                  and so bring healing.  
God grant you patience, 

         to know the strength of the long journey, 

                  and so be given hope. 
God grant you a heart of love, 

         to be moved to action, 

                  and so receive deep peace.  
God grant you God’s own spirit 

         to share in the healing of the world, 

                  and so know God’s deep delight. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net



Posted in attitude, awareness, beauty, Becoming Yourself, beloved, Change, Choice, commitment, compassion, confidence, connection, courage, determination, Encouragement, Faith, find art at pinterest, Happiness, home, Hope, Imagine, inspiration, Letting Go, Life, light, Love, mystery, Passion, Peace, power, Prayer | Leave a comment
09 Jul 2016

a toast! 


Presence is the leaven that makes earth rise. 

We knead this loaf by walking gently,

honoring ecstatic raspberries 

that tumble through the crippled zero 

of a junked tire,
peaches fallen into putrefying splendor,

lightning of naked twigs on Autumn sky,

hieroglyphs that signify how jaggedness 

resolves into awakened space. 
This isn’t just pretend, it’s how

Christ beholds the lilies…

Let that eye of kindness lead you

back to the vulva where your clan emerged,
womb-amber chaos all our dreams 

entangle in, the quintessential element 

of seeing, where we suck

the nipple of original otherness. 
After love making, some mother

must have swept our ashes up

in the wake of her heartbeat 
where we could smell the mulch

of opposites, the musk of the dead

in a bundle of throw-out hyacinths. 
We tasted rubies and moonlight,

the bitter yeast on golden grapes

un-gleaned at vineyards edge,

first fruits for homeless strangers,

those lovers of losing their way…
from the heat of the composted loss

the packed blackness of our sorrow

suddenly sprouts bejeweled graces. 
I’m still stumbling home from that

first fragrance, friend. 

You’re not as drunk as I am yet,

but you’ll get there, you’ll get there. 

🍷

Leaven by Alfred K. LaMotte



love warriors walk through this world

love dripping from open hands

falling onto shattered pieces of the broken 

staining bits of the kaleidoscope of hurting hearts

stepping carefully

yet confidently 

slowing down

pouring out what is so needed

brutally defending tenderness

as the ones who have forgotten to know

appear to do battle…

fearful, hardened, defense

not knowing what they have forgotten…

oh, dearest, please wake up,

please allow yourself to remember

we are all the light

we are each the beloved

please let me hold you

touch those wounded places

touch your face

breathe your soul into mine

until we are completely one

rub love on your sore spots

until you remember

what you already know

stay here with me 

for a long long while

let’s walk together

talk about all this beauty

connecting 

hands

hearts

love

ah yes

love

as we go forward 

allowing this drip to become 

a pour

a fountain 

a river

an ocean

the very universe

let’s dream together

as we sail our sea green ship

into this mystic world beyond the stars 

beyond the moon

and once again

find ourselves home in the sun

living this exquisite ecstasy

drunk on the love brew

only we

can create

together 

🍾

AL


The Love of the Soul wells up within my heart; and understanding, pity, love and self-forgetfulness arise. I carry love to all I meet. I meet men’s love with love and remember not myself.

——–

Discipleship in the New Age I

Alice A. Bailey

Page 176

The Tibetan D.K.


There is a community of the spirit.

Join it, and feel the delight

of walking in the noisy street

and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,

and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes

to see with the other eye.
Open your hands,

if you want to be held.
Sit down in this circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel

the shepherd’s love filling you.
At night, your beloved wanders.

Don’t accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.

Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.
You moan, “She left me.” “He left me.”

Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.

Think of who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison

when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.

Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always

widening rings of being.

🍥

A Community of the Spirit by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi

Posted in attitude, awareness, beauty, Becoming Yourself, beloved, Choice, connection, courage, Encouragement, Faith, find art at pinterest, Gratitude, Letting Go, Life, Love, Miracles, mystery, Passion, Poetry, power, Reflection, Relationships, risk, soul and spirit, Trust, Vulnerability, www.pinterest.com | Leave a comment

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