life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Dancing”

growing wild 

Dark and early in your story someone fearful

of your inborn glory took it 

and buried it behind your house,

and you, innocently, and wise to save yourself

from their greater wrath, 

believed its absence. 

It’s not a pompous glory, 

insistent on regard, but sure and quiet 

as a wildflower’s, asking nothing.

And so you’ve lived—so have we all— 

without it, your heart shoveled over

with self-doubt and apology, as if 

you have no place or voice here

among angels. 

We see you in the cripples who flocked

to Jesus, the mute, the paralyzed,

bent over, shut out, gone mad. 

And all he meant to say was this: 

you shine. You bring a gift 

as no one else, and you belong. 

Your Word deserves a hearing,

and this world needs your beauty 

and your grace. There is no rank

you fall below, no worth you fail to match.

Your shuttering was evil, and God 

wants it undone, and wants you whole.

And so she takes you by the hand

and raises you to stand, to walk, to speak.

She listens to your song with joy. 

She rains upon the earth

until you are unafraid of your radiance

and all our houses are surrounded by wildflowers.


Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

Wildflowers grow without


rooted in the secret order

of quietness.

Edges get rounded down.

Nature offers no straight lines 

or right angles.

Wouldn’t you rather run your

fingers through black loam

than scroll through golden rules?

What you really seek

is the fragrance of chaos,

like a moth on a purple aster,

the intimate fragility

of mountain meadows.

Surrender first.

Strip off the armor

of Should.

Then fight your valiant battle

for beauty.

Alfred K. LaMotte

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow:

they do not toil or spin. 

~Matthew 6:28

Do you suppose she’s a wild flower?

Dancing light and free

Do you suppose she’s a wildflower? 

As we all wish to be 

Let yourself go 

be drawn to what you love

   – Rumi

God made black sheep and dandelions 

God said they were good

God made your heart sweet

He sees you cryin’

Oh now can’t you see

God made you and me

just like every star

to shine just as we are
 there’s a garden many know

pretty maids all in a row

looking all they same are they

mother, may I? they do say
some folks see wishes

some folks see weeds

some folks see diamonds

whiles stones others see

some folks don’t get me

as I need to be

I am a wildflower

dancing so free
God made black sheep and dandelions 

God said they were good

God made your heart sweet

He sees you cryin’

Oh now can’t you see

God made you and me

just like every star

to shine just as we are
there’s a sky above we see

stars come out to play at night

they don’t ask what they can be

they shine their light for all to see
some folks see storms clouds

some folks see rains

some folks see nightmares

whiles dreams others see

some folks don’t get me

as I need to be

I am a star child

twinkling so free
God made black sheep and dandelions 

God said they were good

God made your heart sweet

He sees you cryin’

Oh now can’t you see

God made you and me

just like every star

to shine just as we are



buy this goodness!

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

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,

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 –
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!
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.


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…



We are God’s thread

weaving through the tapestry,

the masterpiece is slowly 


Potential for beauty, we can’t know,



          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 


bow in wonder 

at ourselves

and give thanks 

as the silk thread 

becomes liquid gold and silver

pure and simple


as we realize our place in the whole. 

We are the temple of our creator. 

The home of God. 



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

photo sources found at

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. 


we build an igloo 

and refuse the gift. 

It’s always our choice. 



photo sources found at

rebel souldance & mystic moonshine 

I go to sleep


I wake up this morning, 


of conversation 

of love

of friendship

of anam cara

of music

of poetry

of art

of creating

of beauty

of kindness

of truth

of life

of writing

of pens

of ink

of gratitude 

of allowing 

of hoping

of partnership

of relationship

of rEVOLution 

of all things new

of souls and time

of forces of nature

of beauty and all she is

of magical moments 

of miracle days

of the real meaning of home



soul dancin’ swayin’ to the music…  

When we choose indifference, we betray our world. Yet the world is not decided by action alone. It is decided more by consciousness and spirit; they are the secret sources of all action and behavior. The spirit of a time is an incredibly subtle, yet hugely powerful force. And it is comprised of the mentality and spirit of all individuals together. Therefore, the way you look at things is not simply a private matter. Your outlook actually and concretely affects what goes on. When you give in to helplessness, you collude with despair and add to it. When you take back your power and choose to see the possibilities for healing and transformation, your creativity awakens and flows to become an active force of renewal and encouragement in the world. In this way, even in your own hidden life, you can become a powerful agent of transformation in a broken, darkened world. There is a huge force field that opens when intention focuses and directs itself toward transformation. 
John O’Donohue
Excerpt from 


quote by Wayne Dyer

here’s the thing…
what’s a girl to do with all this happiness?
what sort of containers can hold this amount of wild joy?
will howling at the moon help?
or dancing in a beautiful fountain with you? 
will you take a back road to see me? 
tell me  I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?
will you love me?
living well doesn’t depend on it…
but it would be nice…

 to share this happiness with you
do something wild?

spend some beautiful time together 

on this beautiful journey?
Let’s allow joy to flow in big puddles all around us,

do some soul dancing, 
till we swim in the ocean of all this amazing grace!



Anytime I feel lost, I pull out a map and stare. I stare until I have reminded myself that life is a giant adventure, so much to do, to see.

       – Angelina Jolie 

happy days 

Hello, Friday. 

Bon voyage, day ‪in May‬. 

Good night, daylight.  

so long, sunny de-light. 

see ya later, ‘gator-‘gator. 

After while, crocodile.  

‪tomorrow‬ is another day,

where the flowers sing and sway. 

dancing will commence at daybreak. 

Good night, darlin’ moon,

see ya again real soon. 

Oh, hi there, Saturday,

Good morning to you, happy day,

let’s have a groovy one, 




needing a dull moment

There are times when I need to rest,

a sabbath of dullness,
because the rest of the time

I am walking around behind God,
even the stirred dust sparkling,

even the shadows gleaming,
God every instant saying

“Let there be light.
Let there be stone. This stone,

and this light laying on the stone.
Let there be this tree, this branch,

and each of these birds singing in it.
Let there be this bee, let there be its labor,

and the wonder of its coming and going.
Let there be this river, and its waters,

its springs and tributaries, and their flowing.
Let there be this person.

Let there be this hope unfolding in this heart.
Let there be this moment.

Yes! And now this one!”
It never stops.

It never stops.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

just pay attention  

a poem can write itself in a moment –

a snapshot written in the soul –

a worded,

or wordless,

recognition of beauty,

the endless evolution

and creation,

which surrounds our steps

and walks with us

as we dance through our lives. 

A few examples:

the way a weeping cherry tree delicately drapes pink branches 

against the blue sky. 

the way a jagged cut tree stump

covers itself with luxurious moss 

and pours out green English ivy all over the ground around it. 

the way the tires of a bulldozer 

make such interesting patterns in the sand

on the way to the salt water. 

the way dandelions keep on

cheerfully spreading wishes

and polka dot sunshine

no matter how many times they get labeled weeds.  

the way the smell of an orange 

colors your hands,

long after the fruit is consumed. 

the way a great conversation, 

of kith and kin,

on any ol’ friends bench,

can take you miles and miles

around the moon 

and back again

changing the course of your day,


even your life. 

yes, poems are born

in the senses. 

no need for pen or paper, 

poems are created 

while paying attention, 

in the heart of 

our ordinary,


living of life. 



We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?


   – Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society 

magical moments 

Look, your longing swung from the trapeze.

The clown is you as well and the tame tiger

who begs for mercy calls someone to mind.

Even the tin-pot music

has its charm; it seems

you’re starting to make peace

with your times

(everyone else has,

why not me? —you say).

So why then does the circus tent

rise above an ancient graveyard?


Circus by Adam Zagajewski

Translated by Clare Cavanagh

I didn’t intend to eat my

Chocolatini until last…

It was my shooting star!

My most special-to-look-forward-to,

my magic bullet,

my favorite,

intention for the ending of the box.




Longed for.

But then,

I finished my book.

I finished reading

The Night Circus,

and my chocolatini is the closest thing

I could find to a chocolate mouse

to celebrate with!

What a cool book!

I have not read a novel for a long time,

have not found one that captured me in years…

until now.

No hesitation with my truffle choice today –

it was the best show of respect,

and gratitude to stories,

to writers,

to imagination,

I could give.

The circus arrives without warning…

the circus of dreams…

and we are swept away by the very taste of it…





I just went to the circus for the first time last night

My super-secret-surprise

Was awesome!

I’ve always wanted to go!

I wonder what I would have felt as a child

I was so sensitive

I think I would have closed my eyes

And cried

I almost felt like that at age 45

I’m glad you held my hand


It was

The ultimate show of over consumption

A spectacular spectacle

A mix-match of the brilliant and the bizarre

Awesome and cheesy all wrapped to go

From beginning to end

Never taking a breath

Pounding and pounding

The ringmaster

Ablaze with rhinestones

The acrobats and the clowns

The elephants and the tigers


(Doing tricks

They didn’t seem to really enjoy)

As they steal the show!

Animals are amazing!
I love trapeze artists flying so high

The bearded lady and the wild man of Borneo

Made honorable mention

With a clown act

That was tongue in cheek

in our PC era of art
Men balancing women

And women balancing men

Each showing their skill

As they contort their bodies

into abnormal positions

sequined outfits

shining in the lights

Motorcycles in a steel ball

4, 5, 6, 7

until it is a blur

how can they do that?

Meetal Man (we renamed him Meatball man)

Holding up astounding weights

As people pile on top of people

On top of him

Trampolines, glitter

Pirates, stilts, dancing beautiful girls

Dancing lion suits

With two people rolling in harmony

under more people in lion suits

more and more

too much to see

too much to process

too much to comprehend

my eyes trying to go 2, 3, 4…different directions

as it plays on and on

with tired children crying

and spilling snowcones

and popcorn

as the parents

(Many a freak-show themselves)

try to ignore them


It is spectacular



Slightly disturbing at times

A Mix of over-blown showmanship


amazing talent

The beautiful and the weird

All mixed together

Delivered at breakneck speed

With so much energy it wears out the eyes

And my mind

Which definitely can’t comprehend it all
I loved it…

and I wanted to run away…
Yes, this is the legacy

of what PT Barnham had in mind

This is the circus!


Slight of hand, smoke and mirrors, lights and flash

making everything more

brilliant than it could possibly be

This is definitely, over the top, big-top

Self declared…

but it still could be true…

…the greatest show on earth!





find art sources at

no thanks, I’ve got a new partner

And then this boring meeting to become a circus,

this flabby body to become a work of art,

this life to become something else.
You can spend your life (oh, how we do)

inside a bubble of judgments and desires,

and never know even a simple stone.
No, stay here. 

Let the stone be a stone,

the traffic be traffic.
Even this broken life,

this troubled soul,

this difficult time.
Otherwise how can a joy be joy,

a wonder a wonder?

Life is this, not something else.
This is the mystery of the fast,

the hungry day that is a hungry day,

free from the dictates of desire.
Nothing needs to be what it isn’t.

There is glory enough in the stone.

And in you, already a child of God. 
You can’t command the transformation,

but only present yourself to God,

who can.
Just smile at Satan and say,

“No thanks. 

I’m good.”

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light




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