life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “beloved”

tons and tons of sparkles 


Did you know that whenever you feel love, you literally begin to glow? You probably did. 
But did you know that the glowing is actually made up of zillions of minute sparkles? And that these sparkles receive as much energy as they create? And that because of this energy exchange you completely stop aging and look younger? Abundance is immediately drawn to you? Healing powers fill you? Muscles are strengthened, pounds are shed, and your vision improves? Lingering questions are answered? New friends are summoned? Old friends are poked? Problems are solved? And maple syrup tastes more maple-y? 
All when you feel love. 
It’s true, 

    The Universe

      http://www.tut.com


Ms. Nature is moody one

the sky is varying shades 

of pale baby blue

the water is like a silver mirror

endless beautiful

the same rocks that glittered 

like a million diamonds 

just yesterday 

are silent today

big dependable rocks

ready for Monday work week

still the same 

still awesome

still beautiful

just in a different mood

today the brilliant emerald moss

on those huge rocks suspended 

in the metallic mercury

glow against the silver

I think of Ireland

my draw to visit

the Emerald Isle

on the other side of this pond

life is different 

yet the same

the oyster boat trolls

a heron waits until

just the right moment

then takes off 

flying so close to the water 

on and on 

until I lose him in the horizon

I feel like him 

waiting for my moment

resting for the next phase of flight

and in the fullness of time

at just the right nudge

I will take that breath and 

fly

staying close to the water

my source of life

as the epic journey home 

continues

My heart knows for sure

my love story has 

a very happy ending

💚

Amy Lloyd (AL)


Holy One, Divine Lover,

I am your image.

Your glory, your love,

your life, your grace

is folded up in me 

a thousand times

and this, my life,

is your unfolding

like a rose.

Each day your beauty emerges,

each moment your light unfolds

in me.

I honor this mystery. I trust it. 

I give thanks, 

that even in ugly places

you unfold your beauty in me,

each breath one of the infinite

petals of God.
In the rose garden of God

I marvel at the variety.

I walk with gentle wonder.  

I give thanks

that in each of us

you give yourself

to all of us. 
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

http://www.onbeing.org/blog/david-whyte-the-house-of-belonging/8886

I cannot tell you anything that you are not already capable of knowing yourself.

Nor can I give you anything that is not already at your fingertips.

You have all the answers within your own Being to all of the questions you or anyone else may ask.
Each of us has enormous capacity of Being.

So what is it that we want or need from each other?

Value; We have the capacity to value ourselves and in doing so we set our own value.

Companionship; We experience companionship with others to the capacity that we have companionship with ourselves.
How can I understand others, if I don’t understand myself?
You reflect to me what is already within my own awareness whether I am awake to it or not.

What most of us are looking for outside of ourselves is a reflection, a mirror of what lies within us so that we can gaze upon ourselves.
As I gaze upon myself in the reflection of you

I see the beauty that hides within me
In your grief I touch on the grief I hide inside

In your laughter, laughter is ignited within me
Your Joy radiates and pierces the Joy laden in me

So that we can be in Joy
Your Spirit Unites with Mine as we gaze at Beauty emanated by a flower
This must mean that Beauty enables us to see our harmony 

 A harmony so perfect that nothing can escape it
As I connect to the world outside of myself it reflects me to you and you to me
We are in concert with the great symphony of the Cosmos

Infinitely expressing itself
In those special tender moments when I touch something in me gazing at you

I can hear the masterpiece sweeping us away

I can see the Vision drawing us near

I can smell the fragrance of our essence
For You Are a Part of Me and I am a Part of You

Endless Reflections of the One in Us

🎭

Reflections of Me

© 2014 Mechel Gallaway All rights Reserved


the wild & salty now 


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.

🏡

Parker J. Palmer with a light-hearted metaphor from Rumi — on the unexpected visitor and welcoming her in, serendipitous chaos and all.


I paddled a small boat

through wind and waves in the open sea,

the wind wanting to wipe me sideways,

waves lurching me about,

the constant pressing, the effort, 

the all aloneness of it,

a little dot in an ocean wide of green,

the struggle so welcome, so satisfying,
because I was there. 
I have climbed mountains and hiked deserts,

raised children and journeyed through a marriage

simply to be there.
You have swung the hammer, sewed the seams, 

taken the bus, changed the diapers,

recovered from the illness, done the time.

You run races, you wash dishes,

you row your body through its failings,

you work the work of youth or of aging,

you put your shoulder to it.

Even in prayer’s stillness

you go the distance.
This is the holy pilgrimage:

to meet the given day.

You give yourself to this moment as it is,

hand to hand, all in,

and beyond all accomplishment

you are given the gift 

of this life.

You come home with salt in your hair

and a whole wide sea in your heart. 

      
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


Yesterday afternoon I watched Kate Hudson die in her movie,

A Bit of Heaven,

and I thought about how important our little bit of time is here on this earth. 

The vast importance of now! 

To never hold back sharing our love,

our bit of time here with the ones we love. 

This morning, as I scrolled through my Facebook feed,

I read posts from various friends,

anniversaries of loss. 

The shock of too young loss. 

The bewilderment of unexpected loss. 

The anger of longing for the love loss. 

Missing persons. 

Persons missing persons. 

I listened to the music these friends shared. 

Music chosen in a very personal, intimate way,

helping them deal, 

bringing them comfort,

tapping into their passion, 

their anger,

their extreme feelings,

their great oceans of emotion. 

Music helping them allow,

helping them to move,

helping them release,

as they remain here, feeling left and bereft. 

Music. Always music. 

I cried with them, 

for them,

for my own tsunami of losses. 

As their music poured into me,

I felt their particular loss, 

and I stood along side them and held them in love. 

I honor the grieving hearts of the world. 

I honor the gift, and power, of music. 

🎼

Amy Lloyd (AL)

exposé   


It’s happened 

time and time again…

yet this time more so 

than anything, 

capital…ANYTHING…

ever before. 

don’t you think it’s strange,

how a shared pancake can be life changing?

it was the opposite of the final straw. 

it was the catalyst for the rising curtain of the beginning,

starting a chain reaction of Biblical proportion,

a new free-fall dive 

into the inner deep,

silence tearing up the very foundations 

of the ocean floor,   

of this life lived on the dangerous edges

of the radical cliffs of self-examination. 

Seven days of seismic eruption 

creating volcanic activity so great 

that dreams, 

long gestating in the souls womb,

burst forth – 

born, 

ready to scream in their own voice, 

into this wonderful world. 

as if no longer able to remain

hidden inside their clay container. 

Seven days so extraordinary 

they have changed my world

as I have always known it. 

uncovering the naked bones of my foundation,

exposing the shadowy villains of my learned weaknesses,

giving me new strength to heal those newly uncovered, 

rotted, shattered places.

in this place of my own choosing

I walk, choosing to be soft, 

in spite of the gripping fear. 

I choose vulnerability as my guide forward, 

into the fury of places I have long avoided. 

somehow, all of this,

including not knowing much of things 

I dearly wish I knew,

brings me hope for the brilliant future 

of this long-awaited life,

no longer holding back

but fully, wholly, inhabited,

at this current phase of growth,

as it should be

when we fall completely,

head over heels,

in love. 

🔥

Amy Lloyd (AL)



Blackness becomes you!  – Fred LaMotte   


At the end of your chanted path,

where the desert becomes the sea,

when you arrive your

songs are already here.

They greet you with silence

and you learn your name.

The rainbow curves toward darkness.

The surface of every sphere

tilts into its vacuum, pours

a golden yolk into raven wings.

Now make a new body of your brave

annihilation, weightless as a flame.

And tell me, dancing tongue of fire,

don’t you prefer the night?

Blackness becomes you.

🔥

Alfred K LaMotte


When the sooty corners of our dark night

absorb into porcelain skin at last

leaving it a whole new shade of refined

When the geese in their skeined wedge take another enchanted voyage across the endless blue

When we wake up to this new day 

loving life in spite of all that has gone before

When the one who loves us allows us joy in our exile

until we are ready to break our silent bread

When we allow the challenging heaviness of our limiting beliefs to enter into our arena wrestling until we have achieved Olympic gold

When we trust the great freedom of what has brought us to this very moment

When the wine of our heart 

in it’s purest burgundy of bubbling merry or deepest sorrow

pours clear and jeweled in its crushing

When we give away freely our best crimson to everyone we meet at this royal wedding 

When we finally recognize the truth that there is no journey of arriving

there is simply life

this grandest celebration of skin touching skin

the sharing of moments

the wonder of storytelling 

the ancient ancestral linage of our tree-relations  

the wonder of teaching and tasting and exploring 

coffee and kisses and learning any odd/old/new thing with the ones you love
then we have arrived at our true work 

the why we have sought so desperately to uncover for so long

lying crumpled and useless in the trash can

as we, a bit drunk, on our own exquisite vintage

make love to the world in blissful ecstasy 

shhhh…there are new songs playing 

listen…

just listen…

to that saxophone…

In this world

I’m so glad there is you

🎷

Amy Lloyd (AL)


No matter how dark the clouds seem, they are only clouds. The sun is always shining, the sky is always light blue. The clouds are just droplets of water, gathered together to tease people who don’t remember the truth.

– Chris Collins


https://vimeo.com/176370337?ref=em-share

check in



“This is my living faith, an active faith, a faith of verbs: to question, explore, experiment, experience, walk, run, dance, play, eat, love, learn, dare, taste, touch, smell, listen, argue, speak, write, read, draw, provoke, emote, scream, sin, repent, cry, kneel, pray, bow, rise, stand, look, laugh, cajole, create, confront, confound, walk back, walk forward, circle, hide, and seek.”

— from LEAP by Terry Tempest Williams
With Leap, Terry Tempest Williams, award-winning author of Refuge, offers a sustained meditation on passion, faith, and creativity-based upon her transcendental encounter with Hieronymus Bosch’s medieval masterpiece The Garden of Delights. Williams examines this vibrant landscape with unprecedented acuity, recognizing parallels between the artist’s prophetic vision and her own personal experiences as a Mormon and a naturalist. Searing in its spiritual, intellectual, and emotional courage, Williams’s divine journey enables her to realize the full extent of her faith and through her exquisite imagination opens our eyes to the splendor of the world. READ an excerpt: http://knopfdoubleday.com/book/191447/leap/

what if? 


Let’s remake the world with words.

Not frivolously, nor

To hide from what we fear,

But with a purpose.

                                Let’s, 

As Wordsworth said, remove

“The dust of custom” so things

Shine again, each object arrayed

In its robe of original light.

And then we’ll see the world

As if for the first time.

As once we gazed at the beloved

Who was gazing at us.

🌎

Untitled [“Let’s remake the world with words”] by Gregory Orr


what if you tried something new?

what if you just threw away the rule book and trusted your gut?

what if you allowed someone in to help you, even for a minute?

what if you stopped defending your territory and absorbed some love?

what if you decided to let unexpeted things be the right timing?

what if you created a world where everybody belonged?

what if it’s really just about finding beauty and allowing beauty to find us?

what if you saw that no one is more valuable than another? 

what if you knew, for sure, you are royal, and so am I?

what if you treated everyone you encounter with that assumption?

what if, every single time you wanted to, you made the phone call?

what if, every time you didn’t want to, you didn’t?

what if you began doing all the things you are dreaming of today?

what if these things simple things are all that truly matters? 

what if the future of the world hangs on this iridescent string wrapped loosely around your wrist?

what if you leave for the next great adventure tomorrow, on this earth, or beyond?

what if you ask yourself these things every morning,

out in that field beyond right and wrong?
🌳

Amy Lloyd (AL)

you get what you work for   

the Oracle of hope and happiness 
writes in words you can understand 

to fill your heart with the assurance

that the sun will rise again

the Oracle of hope and happiness 
lives with the authority

of one who has been to the dark side

and returned, like the dove, with the news:

all is well

the Oracle of hope and happiness 
speaks with wisdom

only words most needed

to guide you to the next step on your path

encouragement towards freedom

the Oracle of hope and happiness 
delivers messages of love

from the Source of love

from the Voice of love 

from the inside out

the Oracle of hope and happiness 
gives everything away freely

nothing hidden that you seek

fruit easily picked

the Oracle of hope and happiness 
wants to ease suffering

diffuse anger

inspire the work of ushering in joy and all good things 

the Oracle of Hope and Happiness
knows for sure love is love is love 

is love is love is love

is love is love is…
💞

Amy Lloyd (AL)

* thank you Steve, for naming me the Oracle of hope & happiness, I am honored by your naming


portals 


The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you

Don’t go back to sleep!
You must ask for what you really want. 

Don’t go back to sleep!
People are going back and forth

across the doorsill where the two worlds touch,

The door is round and open
Don’t go back to sleep!

    – Rumi


Your secret plan

You work in me powerfully 

revealing stone by stone

Your kingdom within

Deep calling to deep

I am the eternal explorer

ever changing 

ever learning

ever exfoliating 

ever new born

ever new adventures

ever thresholds of becoming 

ever doorways slightly open

revealing what they reveal

usually just a glimpse

ever fog veiling or

unveiling the next stair on the ever-circling staircase

Your calling is for keeps

unrelenting passion

till the cows come home

till the fat lady sings

and the stars go blue

ever calling me higher

to be my best self

It’s a wonder I can’t easily explain

It’s really all wonder

It’s not my natural way

to keep freely stepping into this magnificent way

to freely surrender my stubborn heart to love

but I have no choice

I have been shown love beyond my humble understanding 

I can only stumble imperfectly

but wholeheartedly

 in my attempts 

to respond

I do it all for love

💞

Amy Lloyd (AL)


hanging in this green moment 💚  


From Jen Lemen 💚 sign up for Soul Snacks

💚💚💚💚💚💚😊😊💚💚💚


There was a sentence halfway written.

There was a thumbprint ridged in ink.

There was a crease in sheaved paper.

There was a ring left from the drink.

There was a chair turned, facing outwards.

There was a door hung from its hinge.

There was a drop that wasn’t water.

There was a dog that knew to cringe.

There was tall grass, dazed and listing.

There was dirt sporing the air.

There was a quiet cleft by birdsong.

There was ragged breathing, barely.

There’d been a plan, the traces told it.

There was a shovel in the back.

There were gloves and tape and sibilant teeth.

There were constraints that held them fast.

There was no way they would believe her.

There was no cold hand that made fists.

There’d be floodlit eyes for every move

And no coming back from this.
Sing, stolid choir of objects, eyeless and aghast,

of a world that came to stay.

Add to your claythroat concord what lies in a hole

that took all day.

If an account remains ungiven,

if the seams close sheer and smooth,

if God’s own mind forgets, this time,

a scene will bear the truth. 

🌾

-Matthew Caldwell
https://claudiusspeaks.com/2016/07/28/scene-matthew-caldwell/

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven

That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,

And thereupon imagination and heart were driven

So wild that every casual thought of that and this

Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season

With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;

And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,

Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,

Riddled with light. Ah! 

when the ghost begins to quicken,

Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent

Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken

By the injustice of the skies for punishment?

⚡️

The Cold Heaven by W. B. Yeats

Floating here 

some three thousand miles off Portugal

I hang in your green,

breath held, limbs still, 

ears just under water,

feet pointing down into mystery.

The sea in my veins 

is so close to you,

blood of the planet I throb in.

In your silence I feel the crashing 

of waves in my heartbeat,

the wind in and out 

when I come up to breathe.

It may look just barely

but I feel so alive.

You have no ill will

yet I know if I breathe wrong

you will take me. 

This far north your hands are cold, 

your lips are cold.

Still I float in your womb 

and you say

“I will hold you.”

Sitting in my umbilical prayers I hear you.

Mountains and deserts say this, too.

And beside a little white church

on a North Dakota prairie

a plot of ground, 

surrounded by family names,

says as well,

“I will hold you.” 

I hear you. 

I hang here in this green moment. 

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


My heart is green

with the fuzz of springtime growth

borning life again

from the rich, bloody soil

it throbs anew
My mind is blue

as the sky in sunshine

then

like the night full of stars and glittering tears

it diamond sparkles 
My life is orange

as flames in a forest 

fire

breathing the wind 

it grows wild
My love is red

there is no hiding it

passion

real as anything

it woos pilgrims
My touch is gold

hands, lips on wounds

aching

for velvet skin, shared breath

it heals all
My soul is pearl

creamy and warm

welcome

to all who come

it opens hearts
My word is platinum 

I seek only truth

wisdom

life with integrity 

it unlocks doors
My work is emerald

deep as the world

brilliant

full of riches

it creates wealth
My legacy is silver

of the finest made

pure

all about me

all about You

💚

Amy Lloyd (AL)

the space between breaths


All that you touch, you change. All that you change, changes you.

    – Octavia E. Butler


fierce surrender
relentlessly engaged
In a loud and howling world, it’s in the silence of a broken heart that the chambers of you can hear the sound of God speaking. It’s in the emptiness that happens in the wake of a broken heart, that God fills you with Himself.
Soundlessly, relentlessly praying through your spaces of brokenness makes the heart bigger, until you hold the gift of God alone.
I memorize the white of the moon. Freeze frame the Farmer grinning in the white light of it there on the tractor seat, the peak of his feed cap pulled low over his face. We get to inhale. We get to live every day like it might be our last —- because one of these days, we’re guaranteed to be right.
We get to surrender to the glory, to the weight of it coming through the thinning sky, and there’s nothing in this world that’s normal — there’s only growing blind to the glory. There’s only growing blind to the injustice, to the blood on our own hands, to the love we could make, to the One who says, “Holy Father, keep them in Your name…. —- that they may be one, even as we are one” (John ‪17:11‬) to the truth that we all belong to one another. It’s the cynics who wear armour to shield the heart from all this beauty that wounds.
You are perishable here.

Taste the moments accordingly.
Taste the space between every breath like it is bread, the space between the stars where you and he are just for now, the space between you and faces you love and being here no more, the spaces between the pain, between you and streets of grief, between you and injustice and war and mothers cradling their babies in fear, and learn to love before it’s too late. I need to etch that into me.
You are perishable here, Taste the moments accordingly —

You get to decide whether you are going to taste it, all of it and know that God is good and enjoy Him and make your life about others tasting His goodness too.
You get to decide whether you’re going to spend your one life trying to make an impression and look good —  or make a difference and do good.
You don’t get long here before you get to be a memory — so make your life about getting thirsty people glasses of water.

💧

    – Ann Voskamp

blog: aholyexperience.com


Isaiah 6
There were banks of candles flickering in the distance and clouds of incense thickening the air with holiness and stinging his eyes, and high above him, as if it had always been there but was only now seen for what it was (like a face in the leaves of a tree or a bear among the stars), there was the Mystery Itself, whose gown was the incense and the candles a dusting of gold at the hem. There were winged creatures shouting back and forth the way excited children shout to each other when dusk calls them home, and the whole vast, reeking place started to shake beneath his feet like a wagon going over cobbles, and he cried out, “O God, I am done for! I am foul of mouth and the member of a foul-mouthed race. With my own two eyes I have seen him. I’m a goner and sunk.” Then one of the winged things touched his mouth with fire and said, “There, it will be all right now,” and the Mystery Itself said, “Who will it be?” and with charred lips he said, “Me,” and Mystery said “Go.”
Mystery said, “Go give the deaf hell till you’re blue in the face and go show the blind heaven till you drop in your tracks, because they’d sooner eat ground glass than swallow the bitter pill that puts roses in the cheeks and a gleam in the eye. Go do it.”

Isaiah said, “Do it till when?”

Mystery said, “Till hell freezes over.”

Mystery said, “Do it till the cows come home.”

And that is what a prophet does for a living and, starting from the year that King Uzziah died, when he saw and heard all these things, Isaiah went and did it.

🔥

~ Frederick Buechner originally published in Peculiar Treasures and later in Beyond Words


What is your unrelenting passion?

My Beloved said, “My name is not complete without yours.”

And I thought, How could a human’s worth ever be such?

And God knowing all of our thoughts, and all our thoughts are just innocent steps on the path, then addressed my heart.

God revealed a sublime truth to the world when He sang

“I am made whole by your life. Each soul, each soul completes Me.”
– Hafiz


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