For everyone you touch, you also reach everyone they will ever know… and everyone they will ever know… and everyone they will ever know… So for the rest of all time, your kindness will be felt, in waves that will spread, long after you move on.
#notesfromtheuniverse http://www.tut.com/Inspiration/nftu
Every now and then
we leave off our pious yearnings,
and even our righteous ire,
and sit down to the hard work of being sad for the world.
It takes guts,
God knows—
not anger but sorrow;
it tires prophets and psalmists alike.
The wolf that cries in the long valley,
the sea that chants its lament
over and over with sighs and tears,
the hermit on sore knees,
the angels at their posts
taking turns offering up their aching hearts,
even Christ weeping,
they can’t do it alone.
In the end
it is the broken hearted
in whom we find the deepest companionship.
We come away wet with grief
yet oddly strengthened
with the fibers of hope.
In grief for the world
we touch its worth.
In sorrow we find each other,
and there,
the substance of joy.
Weird, isn’t it,
how that alone
is the healing balm we ask? __________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
“Only he who cries… is permitted to sing…” is what Bonhoeffer said.
Only those authentic enough to lament, are authentic enough to love.
When everything is stripped away and you have nothing left and in all your bare vulnerability, there is communion with God.
– Ann Voskamp
💙
I am bare naked
Down to my bones
Even my comfortable skin is gone
I shiver as the cold blows through me
I have cried many tears
My song has been watered to full growth
Being alive does not come without cost
We love
we lose
we grieve
We lament
We love
We commune
We learn
We choose
to continue to make the choices
to love
to bring the song
that fills spring with joy
and the whole world
With light and love
AL
And here’s what made it happen…
They tell me –
Not to…
Don’t…
Forget the writer,
leave her be,
Focus on some other things,
words need not be free
They say no need to share adventures..
Stuff the stories,
hide your truths
Don’t capture the experience, it’s really of no use
They say
other things need my attention, my energy,
For God’s sake, earn a wage –
I’ll tell you what that does for me –
…finally, finally…finally –
sends me to the page
And all the walls and stops crash-tumble-trickle down
I sit furious-
typing –
damn punctuation, tense, pronoun
Does it really matter if they she he we agree?
It’s time to tell my story – for once, for now – for ME
💜
– Robin OK
http://www.creativecollaborativeretreats.com
And then there comes a moment
when all you have suffered
all you have learned
all you have lost and found
rise up and become
and suddenly you are
here
you are
who you dreamed of being
so many years ago
suddenly you have arrived
at what you caught glimpses of
for so many years
and the search,
the free fall of broken dreams,
broken hearts
broken everything
tumbling down rabbit holes
stumbling over the feet
of your own lack of knowledge
is over
you find yourself on solid ground
stable
steady
raising your Ebenezer
those tributes to God
for all the mighty stones of help
building this foundation on the solid rocks
you know so well
and though the pilgrimage may continue
though the journey is definitely not over
though life is fragile
and security an illusion
there is a new sureness to your step
a trusting unshakable
a calm in it all
a new assurance of provision
a new traveling song to be sung as you walk forward
always forward
always pilgrim ready for new adventures
forgetting the names of what lay behind
you press on to your calling
the prize set before
reveling in the mercies ever new
for each new day
there is no stopping now
you have found something
which cannot ever be taken
you have arrived here by your own determination
reached a place
both spiritual and physical
a place of such magnitude
the light shines from every angle
it has sealed up the oldest sores
bound up the deepest wounds
satisfied the deepest longings
changed everything
settled old scores with finality
no longer will you settle for less than you deserve
no more will you tolerate anything less than your best and highest offerings
you must be all you can be
gratitude fills you for this place
a place so lovely
it can bear up
even under the weight
of our hearts wildest desires
with just this simple name
it resounds inside our souls like a bell –
home
yes, beloved,
you are home.
right where you belong.
❤️
AL
Respectfully given,
exalted being
full of grace,
remember to forget:
surrender struggles to catch it’s breath,
then falls soft
as evening prayers at twilight,
gathering into the corners of our hearts
before falling full
onto the center of our living circle,
free and happy as a Friday night.
next morning’s sun fills us,
each day, each season.
nurture moves with grace,
evolving slowly thru
our caring hands,
our grieving hearts,
our shared experience,
our acts of courage,
the healing salt of our tears,
the energy generation of our joy.
with pieces of our true love,
we fly flags,
of prayer,
of peace,
of poems,
of our own making
to heal the worlds –
within us/
without us.
we allow –
simply complex.
we understand –
clearly unclear.
we stand and fill our world with
the beauty,
the mystery,
of sound,
of hum,
of laughter,
of voice,
of music,
protecting us
from lesser gods,
the terror all around.
love is the shield,
love is the answer,
love is the choice,
love is our glory,
our salvation,
crowning us
sons and daughters
of the King.
at times,
in spite of our broken pieces,
our refusal to believe,
even our darkened hearts.
–
astonishing,
isn’t it?
❣
AL
A sob in the night
awakens us from dreams,
a crack opens in the wall
and in seeps the dark stream
with pieces of broken things in it,
and blood, and our own ragged edge,
and in seeps the light,
and the voice singing.
We want to pull the wall around us,
the sorrow pouring in,
but it is breached now,
it is only an illusion,
and we are out in the dangerous light,
the fragile street,
tender as everyone else,
ready to duck, ready to weep.
We are all refugees now,
foreigners, except to foreigners.
It’s the egg that is cracked,
the stone rolled away.
If there is a place for love,
for your own brave soul, this is it.
The cord in another’s heart
knotted in yours,
the hand reaching for you
you can reach out to.
Terror and the stillness,
and the voice singing.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
and for each person in this world 🙏🏻
THE SEA IN YOU
When I wake under the moon,
I do not know who I have become unless
I move closer to you, obeying the give and take
of the earth as it breathes the slender length
of your body, so that in breathing with the tide
that breathes in you, and moving with you
as you come and go, and following you, half in light
and half in dark, I feel the first firm edge of my floating palm
touch and then trace the pale light of your shoulder
to the faint, moon-lit shadow of your smooth cheek,
and drawing my finger through the pearl water of your skin,
I sense the breath on your lips touch and then warm
the finest, furthest, most unknown edge of my sense of self,
so that I come to you under the moon
as if I had swum under the deepest arch of the ocean,
to find you living where no one could possibly live,
and to feel you breathing, where no one could
possibly breathe, and I touch your skin as I would
touch a pale whispering spirit of the tides that my arms
try to hold with the wrong kind of strength and my lips
try to speak with the wrong kind of love and I follow
you through the ocean night listening for your breath
in my helpless calling to love you as I should, and I lie
next to you in your sleep as I would next to the sea,
overwhelmed by the rest that arrives in me and by the weight
that is taken from me and what, by morning,
is left on the shore of my waking joy.
…
THE SEA IN YOU by David Whyte
It is the great mystery of life
That to every part
there is a counterpart
the polarity is the great gift
Also the great curse
The friction keeps us learning
else we die, even as we live.
Gravity keeps on earth
Anti-gravity surrounds us a few miles above
without both we would not exist.
Trees breathe carbon in
Exhale oxygen
We do the opposite.
The sun and moon
are in the perfect spots for us to survive.
We fight change,
though it is the one thing
that truly allows us to become.
We want to have answers –
Cut.
Dry.
Concrete.
We want to KNOW
Yet the great mystery of life is letting the mystery be greater than us
while inhaling the small parts we can comprehend
and using them to create good with our part.
seeing new every day.
evolving slowly.
The yin.
—
The yang.
Within the darkness
We find the light.
With letting go of the other
We finally own our oneness.
Within the deepest sorrow
We release ourselves
for our most complete joy.
When we give ourselves empty
we receive back waves of abundance and are filled fresh.
We want what glitters,
but find the best gifts
are always on the bottom shelf,
sometimes a little dusty from not being used.
Each and every day, in order to find our way into the unlimited potential of our highest self
we must first commit to our holy and unique calling,
our own glorious belovedness.
AL
💜
Photos found on http://www.pinterest.com
Again I resume the long
lesson: how small a thing
can be pleasing, how little
in this hard world it takes
to satisfy the mind
and bring it to its rest.
With the ongoing havoc
the woods this morning is
almost unnaturally still.
Through stalled air, unshadowed
light, a few leaves fall
of their own weight.
The sky
is gray. It begins in mist
almost at the ground
and rises forever. The trees
rise in silence almost
natural, but not quite,
almost eternal, but
not quite.
What more did I
think I wanted? Here is
what has always been.
Here is what will always
be. Even in me,
the Maker of all this
returns in rest, even
to the slightest of His works,
a yellow leaf slowly
falling, and is pleased.
💜
Sabbaths 1999, VII by Wendell Berry
The sky in my rearview
is a huge bowl of rainbow sherbet
the beautiful kind
with raspberry, orange-n-lime
swatches of lemon, indigo and periwinkle
float like barges –
in, out
&
around.
Framing.
Dancing.
Living.
At one point tangerine fills the top of the hilly crest
and head light stars
blaze brilliant against the backdrop
indigo stretched above framing the masterpiece.
At times I find it hard to keep moving forward
into the matte gray of the sky just ahead.
so much loveliness is going on
right behind me
how can I keep heading away from it?
How can I not be a part of this splendor?
Eventually midnight blue seizes its moment of glory,
then night falls over all
and I am left
aching with the beauty,
the majesty,
the extravagant display,
of this wonderful world.
I go to wondering
if this longing for your kiss
will ever be answered?
if my whole life I will wait
for a moment which has already passed,
never to be again under this piece of sky.
always a whisper.
The magic of love,
a thing with wings
hovering over my heart
for years
echoing on into eternity.
💞
AL
Anger is the deepest form of compassion, for another, for the world, for the self, for a life, for the body, for the family and for all our ideals, all vulnerable and all, possibly about to be hurt. Stripped of all physical imprisonment and violent reaction, anger is the purest form of care, the internal living flame of anger always illuminates what we belong to, what we wish to protect and what we are willing to hazard ourselves for. What we usually call anger is only what is left of its essence when we are overwhelmed by is accompanying vulnerability, when it reaches the lost surface of our mind or our body’s incapacity to hold it, or when it touches the limits of our understanding. What we name as anger is actually only the incoherent physical incapacity to sustain this deep form of care in our outer daily life; the unwillingness to be large enough and generous enough to hold what we love helplessly in our bodies or mind with the clarity and breadth of our whole being.
What we have named as anger on the surface is the violent outer response to our inner powerlessness, a powerlessness connected to such a profound sense of rawness and care that it can find no proper outer body, or identity, or voice, or way of life to hold it. What we call anger is often simply the unwillingness to live the full measure of our fears or of our not knowing, in the face of our love for a wife, in the depth of caring for a son, in our wanting the best, in the face of simply being alive and loving those with whom we live.
Our anger breaks to the surface most often through our feeling something is profoundly wrong with this powerlessness and vulnerability; anger too often finds its voice strangely, through our incoherence and through our inability to speak, but anger in its pure state is the measure of the way we are implicated in the world and made vulnerable through love in all its specifics: a daughter, a house, a family, an enterprise, a land or a colleague. Anger turns to violence and violent speech when the mind refuses to countenance the vulnerability of the body in its love for these outer things – we are often abused or have been abused by those who love us but have no vehicle to carry its understanding, or who have no outer emblems of their inner care of even their own wanting to be wanted. Lacking any other vehicle for the expression of this inner rawness they are simply overwhelmed by the elemental nature of love’s vulnerability. In their helplessness they turn to violence on the very people who are the outer representation of this inner lack of control.
But anger truly felt at its center is the essential living flame of being fully alive and fully here; it is a quality to be followed to its source, to be prized, to be tended, and an invitation to finding a way to bring that source fully into the world through making the mind clearer and more generous, the heart more compassionate and the body larger and strong enough to hold it. What we call anger on the surface only serves to define its true underlying quality by being a complete but absolute mirror-opposite of its internal source.
🔥
– David Whyte
Our experiences color everything. The events of the past can have a profound effect on how we see our lives now and what we choose to believe about our world. Our past experiences can also influence our emotional reactions and responses to present events. Each of us reacts to stimulus based on what we have learned in life. There is no right or wrong to it; it is simply the result of past experience. Later, when our strong feelings have passed, we may be surprised at our reactions. Yet when we face a similar situation, again our reactions may be the same. When we understand those experiences, we can come that much closer to understanding our reactions and consciously change them.
Between stimulus and reaction exists a fleeting moment of thought. Often, that thought is based on something that has happened to you in the past. When presented with a similar situation later on, your natural impulse is to unconsciously regard it in a similar light. For example, if you survived a traumatic automobile accident as a youngster, the first thing you might feel upon witnessing even a minor collision between vehicles may be intense panic. If you harbor unpleasant associations with death from a past experience, you may find yourself unable to think about death as a gentle release or the next step toward a new kind of existence. You can, however, minimize the intensity of your reactions by identifying the momentary thought that inspires your reaction. Then, next time, replace that thought with a more positive one.
Modifying your reaction by modifying your thoughts is difficult, but it can help you to see and experience formerly unpleasant situations in a whole new light. It allows you to stop reacting unconsciously. Learning the reason of your reactions may also help you put aside a negative reaction long enough to respond in more positive and empowered ways. Your reactions and responses then become about what’s happening in the present moment rather than about the past. As time passes, your negative thoughts may lose strength, leaving only your positive thoughts to inform your healthy reactions.
Daily Om by Madisyn Taylor/Reaction to Life Events
Healthy aggression has been given a bad name for far too long. I remember the day when it was acceptable to stand down those who behaved unjustly. Not in a way that was disproportionate to the crime, but in a way that met it right where it lived. This seems to have been lost in the last decades, both because of the softee toffee premature forgiveness movement and because of our growing awareness of the horrifying effects of unhealthy aggression. As a man, I have found this entirely confusing. Often I have stood down injustice with appropriate ferocity and been judged for it, as though I was the unjust one. I have some compassion for this interpretation, as I do recognize that it is difficult for many trauma survivors to not be triggered by aggression of any kind. But something is lost when we don’t make the distinction between the kinds of aggression that rectify wrongs, and those that perpetuate them. It is time to again raise healthy aggression to the rafters of acceptability. Sometimes its the truest path of all.
💪
– Jeff Brown
Change and growth are painful
not because we’re gaining,
but because we’re losing.
We lose old ideas.
Old habits. Old stories.
Old comforts.
We shed all that’s become
too heavy to carry onward,
wrapped too tight around skin
that needed to finally breathe.
A body that had to break loose
from the once present chapter.
Blank pages had been begging.
Ink aching to write
a new road and world.
A soul that could no longer deny
the taste of something else.
Something that felt true.
Something not yet seen.
We don’t have to see something
in order to believe.
💪
– an excerpt from Victoria Erickson’s fantastic new book- Edge of Wonder, available on Amazon
It is time to go deeper, to find your rudder
The unswerving truth of who you are
To keep you on track to your destiny.
Some tacking and jibing – yes
But with minor adjustments
On your way once more
Wind at your back to carry you
To ease your way
for a time.
The storms will come, for oceans will be oceans
Fear appears
Fear of being tossed about in the waves
Fear of not surviving rough seas
Fear is to be your teacher
Fear is to be your guide
Fear is to hold your hand as you look beyond the horizon
Of what you have always known
To the truth you can only know
Once you face fear
And see the love in its eyes.
💪
The Truth of You by Brenda Newberry
Hokusai says Look carefully.
He says pay attention, notice.
He says keep looking, stay curious.
He says there is no end to seeing.
He says Look Forward to getting old.
He says keep changing,
you just get more who you really are.
He says get stuck, accept it, repeat yourself
as long as it’s interesting.
He says keep doing what you love.
He says keep praying.
He says every one of us is a child,
every one of us is ancient,
every one of us has a body.
He says every one of us is frightened.
He says every one of us has to find a way to live with fear.
He says everything is alive—
shells, buildings, people, fish, mountains, trees.
Wood is alive.
Water is alive.
Everything has its own life.
Everything lives inside us.
He says live with the world inside you.
He says it doesn’t matter if you draw, or write books.
It doesn’t matter if you saw wood, or catch fish.
It doesn’t matter if you sit at home
and stare at the ants on your verandah or the shadows of the trees
and grasses in your garden.
It matters that you care.
It matters that you feel.
It matters that you notice.
It matters that life lives through you.
Contentment is life living through you.
Joy is life living through you.
Satisfaction and strength
are life living through you.
Peace is life living through you.
He says don’t be afraid.
Don’t be afraid.
Look, feel, let life take you by the hand.
Let life live through you.
🌳
by, Roger Keyes is an American professor of East Asian studies. This poem is apparently his cross-media translation of the art of Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849) into poetry.
the stones are alive
the stones speak
tell stories of my life
sing me love songs
respond to my touch
grow warm when I’m near
glow with my compliments
smile with my encouraging words
blush as they rest against my skin
absorb my secrets
reveal my favorite colors
are perfectly comfortable with themselves –
hot or cold
polished or raw
the stones never argue
always tell the truth
give with no demand
accept themselves as beautiful
never question that they are
amazing,
valuable,
beloved
just the way they are
just the way we are
AL
My life was the size of my life.
Its rooms were room-sized,
its soul was the size of a soul.
In its background, mitochondria hummed,
above it sun, clouds, snow,
the transit of stars and planets.
It rode elevators, bullet trains,
various airplanes, a donkey.
It wore socks, shirts, its own ears and nose.
It ate, it slept, it opened
and closed its hands, its windows.
Others, I know, had lives larger.
Others, I know, had lives shorter.
The depth of lives, too, is different.
There were times my life and I made jokes together.
There were times we made bread.
Once, I grew moody and distant.
I told my life I would like some time,
I would like to try seeing others.
In a week, my empty suitcase and I returned.
I was hungry, then, and my life,
my life, too, was hungry, we could not keep
our hands off our clothes on
our tongues from
💃🏻
My Life Was the Size of My Life by Jane Hirshfield
… and if what I desperately think I want doesn’t happen…God, and life, are still good…
😘
life: acoustic & amplified 