The best advice ever, beautifully written, by Fred LaMotte:
‘Smart’ people believe in their thoughts, especially the thought of ‘me.’ How can a thought discriminate between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ ideas? Only the silence beyond ideas, who watches without thought, can discriminate.
Don’t be so smart. Be a little stupid. Watch thoughts come and go without grasping them. Even the thought of ‘me.’ Rest beyond mind as self-radiant emptiness.
You are not an idea, ceaselessly arguing with other ideas. You are sparkling omnipresent free space, where all ideas arise and dissolve without conflict.
The way to peace is awakening the Witness.
Oh Infinite Intelligence, I ask not for more blessings,
but more wisdom with which to make better use of
the greatest of all blessings with which I was endowed
at birth – the right to embrace and direct to ends of my
own choice the powers of my mind.
———-
Napoleon Hill’s Greatest Speeches. Sound Wisdom. Pennsylvania. 2016. Pgs. 161-162
I always say we learn virtue by practicing not by thinking about it. I have been silently but actively observing the world around me paying attention to the subtle details and nuances of spoken and written words and the behavior and actions or inaction that trail them. Words are as much of a communicator of truths as they are of falsehoods. Time and time again human history has taught us that actions will reveal the essence of our intention. The honest but hard work of virtue lies in action. It acts upon the merits of thoughtfulness, sound judgement based on receptivity, cooperation, observation, broad mindedness and wisdom. It transforms, expands and evolves. Truth does not crown itself king amidst the utterance of words that are used to describe it. It only upholds to its reverence when it is purposefully active as it is so in nature. It differs greatly from the action of falsehood which only acts to benefit itself in a superficial accordance to judgements that are based upon reactionary egotistical self proclaimed righteousness, which is a bizarre tendency of human behavior. It loves to boast its declarations with repetitive renditions of words from a conglomerate array of them barely even scratching the surface of thier true meaning. The depths of truth is far beyond reach for those who proclaim falsehood as Truth. It’s a masquerading of words that don’t align with its corresponding action.
Truth is multilayered, multifaceted and complexed, a sort of breeding ground for simple truths that are free flowing through life right beneath the surface of reality. It is ubiquitous as space. Yet mainstream treads through a dense cloud of a fictional existence constantly trying to figure out the meaning of life and its purpose amid illusions in a perpetual loop.
🔁
– Lisette Hesmadt
Preach it, teach it…wear it like a robe…
Breathe it, sniff it…take it to the road…
Hold it, form it…release, than sigh…
Belt it out…whisper it ….murmur the sound…
No silence, but stillness…
Find the paradoxes, hold the tension…
Walk the corridors until you miss it…and walk it again…
You are not mystic, nor healer…until your fear is all gone…
Baptize it, drown it…rise from the dead…
Then burn and burn…
Beauty,
Donna Knutson
TO BE READ IN THE INTERROGATIVE
Have you seen
Have you truly seen
the snow
the stars
the felt steps of the breeze
Have you touched
really have you touched
the plate
the bread
the face of that woman you love
so much
Have you lived
like a blow to the head
the flash
the gasp
the fall
the flight
Have you known
known in every pore of your skin
how your eyes
your hands
your sex
your soft heart
must be thrown away
must be wept away
must be invented all over again
💞
~Julio Cortazar
There is grace on ground like this
(we can say that every step we take
every day we live)
wherever we are is sacred ground
every bush we see burning holy
every rock singing glory
every bird testament of trust
every tree drips abundance
every flower secure in extravagant love
every waterfall
every rainbow
and moonbow
and drop of the summer rain
shimmers with promise
rocks standing firm in the faith
glittering in sunshine
we are made of stars
held together with a bit of mud
breathing the breath of the creator
made up of the very same matter as the universe
life / death our greatest gifts
the space between
will be shades of heaven
or the darkest shades of hell
we choose our path with every decision
free will is our constant companion
choices…always choices
our most important recognized awareness
wake up
guard them well
pay attention
dance a lot
share the miracles
strewn all along our way
💞
AL
Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more.
playing sweet percussion through the tall, lush marsh grass
gentle water
invisible birds singing in surround sound
my heart resonates with the language we have spoken
the songs we have sung
the rich vibrations of our connection
over the past few days
the new sun warms my back
my shadow sits large
writing poems
this silence my gratitude
this morning my pleasure
this day my gift
this moment my life
thank you for reaching out
for breaking through the darkness
for holding my hand
💞
AL
The worst isn’t the last thing about the world. It’s the next to the last thing. The last thing is the best. It’s the power from on high that comes down into the world, that wells up from the rock-bottom worst of the world like a hidden spring. Can you believe it? The last, best thing is the laughing deep in the hearts of the saints, sometimes our hearts even. Yes. You are terribly loved and forgiven. Yes. You are healed. All is well.
Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light, and lifting up our hearts in the knowledge that we are as others are (and that others are as we are), and that it is right to love one another in the best possible way – believing all things, hoping for all things, and enduring all things.…And let us not be too troubled by our weaknesses, for even he who has none, has one weakness, namely that he thinks he has none, and anyone who believes himself to be so perfect or wise would do well to become foolish all over again.
✍🏻
Vincent van Gogh
There is always that edge of doubt.
Trust it, that’s where the new things come from.
If you can’t live with it, get out,
Because when it’s gone, you’re on Automatic,
Repeating something you’ve learned.
Let your prayer be:
Save me from that tempting certainty that
Leads me back from the Edge,
That dark edge where the first light breaks.
✨
The Edge of Doubt by Albert Huffstickler
Thing on my art table…
Chopsticks from Korea House – Jana
Seed from ASG Intensive – Patti
Tea light from Retreat 2012 – Robin
Blue twistie light from Andy n Brandi’s wedding
Paint brushes from Kacie’s old art box
Small souvenir dish from Italy and a pumpkin Anni gifts
along side Faith-Trumps-Fear dogtag
tiny flower pots that just make me happy
One of Pearl’s rocks with a natural cross
Big Purple stone from Bernice’s apartment
Inspirational box I bought in Connecticut
Small leather journal part of art supply shopping trip Chris bought me
Pens, paints, markers, pencils
Books – as many as possible
Journals, Bible, sketch pads
Tweezers – always tweezers
Computer
My framed arts-ing
Other things as well
each small thing connected to someone,
some place.
I am surrounded by what I love,
Who I love,
What I live.
I keep pieces of myself
of moments,
the people, I love.
and I build my days
with bricks, blocks, shells and sparkly rocks
layers of a life
built on grace and gratitude
a firm foundation
which will not be shaken.
🐚
AL
21 different ways to do art therapy and put your thoughts in order
Posted by The Minds Journal EditoriaL| A Better Living, Interesting, The Journal | 16 |
Sometimes, the solution to your problem just won’t come into your head, yet your thoughts are spinning at a 100 kilometers an hour, and you feel like your brain is going to explode.
It’s times like this that you could do with trying some ’art therapy’. At its most basic, the only preparation you need to carry out for this is to grab a pencil and a sheet of paper. Then, just start drawing. It doesn’t even matter what you draw. Within a certain amount of time, your thoughts will become more harmonious and you’ll calm down.
To help you get started, here’s what to do if you’re feeling…
* Tired: draw flowers
* Angry: draw lines
* In pain: build a model
* Bored: color in a sheet of paper in various colors
* Sad: paint a rainbow
* Scared: knit something
* Worried: make a doll
* Indignant: tear a piece of paper into small pieces and arrange it into a pattern
* Anxious: do some origami
* Tense: draw patterns
* Nostalgic: draw a maze
* Disappointed: copy a portrait or painting
* In despair: draw your way out
* Confused: draw an Indian mandala
* That you need to restore your strength: make a landscape painting
* That you can’t make sense of your feelings: paint a self-portrait
* That you need to remember this moment: draw some colored patterns
* That you need to put your thoughts in order: draw honeycombs or squares
* That you need to take the time to make the right choice: draw waves and circles
* That you’re stuck in a rut: draw spirals
* That you need to make sense of your most important goal: draw target symbols.
with wings
rough hands
feet on bare earth
I want to become a continent of angels
some common rarity so unexplored
unadmissable
that even I cannot find where I begin or end
.
let this body become a borderless land
full of immigrants
artist and poets
whose only claim to fame is that
they rushed to join this conflagration of
unbound unexplored unknowable art
to enter full existence
.
who is to say what is real
in a universe so wide
and blasted unpretentious
let us join this revolution
wild eyes full hearted
as if this day
is the only day the universe will ever exist
and yes you matter
.
come with me
join asunder
this world is fully ablaze
and yet none of us burn
like a kernel in the heart of the sun
.
now I have come to understand
the language of infinity
it is in the way you dress and speak
and hurry along caressing the earth
and me with it
some vision of your standard uranium golden globe reeking sun
the perfect curve with no edge
———–
Adam A DeFranco (c) 2016
I am always amazed at the layers,
the levels, of the human experience.
The never ending,
ever-evolving, devolving,
shifting, opening,
illumination, illusion-revealing,
conviction shattering, my gospel truth challenging,
deep calling to deep, border breaking,
darkness, light and color discovering, re-discovering.
This way of living I have stumbled onto – into –
not because I’m so smart –
but because I asked,
I was given this priceless gift.
This surprising path
of a pilgrim,
of spiritual growth,
baby stepping my way to
healing, learning,
opening, Mystery,
more always reveals more.
Always re-defining the definitions
of love, abundance,
grace, healing,
truth, error,
good, evil,
joy, suffering,
prosperity, poverty,
spirit, spirituality,
life itself becoming more with each step.
My self righteousness becoming less important
with every glimpse of my Creator, my own Belovedness.
Sometimes I understand how Peter must have felt when he saw the great sheet of unclean animals come down before him,
which God asked him to kill and eat,
He challenged with those same words I have heard from heaven –
“What I have named clean do not proclaim unclean.”
Challenging, very challenging, stuff.
The stuff of humility and opening,
the stuff of learning.
Life changing/giving stuff.
We want to think we know, that we are right.
We want approval, to be able to judge.
We want to earn our way, be worthy.
It will never work. Thankfully.
Then we catch the tiniest of glimpses of the Lover
and we fall on our knees,
breathless, undone,
aware of our need, our misplaced vanity,
stripped of our pride, our shoes,
amazed by what we have encountered, changed forever.
full but ever thirsty for more –
LOVE
💞
AL
I’m convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they’re stones that don’t matter. As long as you’re breathing, it’s never too late to do some good.
“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 well watered
it blooms within me
true voice does not come without cost
Yet it comes
I choose
I let go
I choose
I lament
I chose
I grieve
I choose
I love
I choose
I commune
I choose
I learn
I choose
always choosing
new choosing in every moment
to continue to make the choices
which will bring the song
that fills the whole world
with hope, light and love
Thanks be
to the the friends who stay with me
in silence we weep
in joy we laugh
always and always
we sing
🎼
AL
love breaks your heart for the sake of your heart…
4 year anniversary of living faith following the cloud. Allowing God to direct every step I have taken…been an amazing, wonderful, difficult, miracle-strewn time. So grateful for every miracle minute.
Big changes seem to be coming. Walk with me. Pray for me. 🙏🏻 So grateful for you.
Trapped between misspelling Subpoena and shouting guilty over and over
In a feudal land someone personified Justice as a woman, as a joke.
Oh the bliss that reason brings
Cold, calculated, harmony of all things
Where we agree, to agree, to disagree
That we can all agree on something.
“If only I got what I deserved”
Said no man ever.
The wrongs of another cannot be punished too harshly
Until you turn the eye inward,
To the mote and see yourself,
Know yourself,
Judge yourself,
Find mercy for yourself if you can.
Such a futile exercise for man
When you are done with yourself,
Ask if you can ever withhold forgiveness again?
🙀
Finding Mercy by Charles Cooper
We are all of us judged every day. We are judged by the face that looks back at us from the bathroom mirror. We are judged by the faces of the people we love and by the faces and lives of our children and by our dreams. We are judged by the faces of the people we do not love. Each day finds us at the junction of many roads, and we are judged as much by the roads we have not taken as by the roads we have.
The New Testament proclaims that at some unforeseeable time in the future, God will ring down the final curtain on history, and there will come a Day on which all our days and all the judgments upon us and all our judgments upon each other will themselves be judged. The judge will be Christ. In other words, the one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully.
Romantic love is blind to everything except what is lovable and lovely, but Christ’s love sees us with terrible clarity and sees us whole. Christ’s love so wishes our joy that it is ruthless against everything in us that diminishes our joy. The worst sentence Love can pass is that we behold the suffering that Love has endured for our sake, and that is also our acquittal. The justice and mercy of the judge are ultimately one.
⚖
~Frederick Buechner originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words
Somewhere between what it feels like, to be at
one with the sea, and to understand the sea as
mere context for the boat whose engine refuses
finally to turn over: yeah, I know the place—
stumbled into it myself, once; twice, almost. All
around and in between the two trees that
grow there, tree of compassion and—
much taller— tree of pity, its bark
more bronze, the snow settled as if an openness of any kind meant, as well,
a woundedness that, by filling it, the snow
might heal…You know what I think? I think if we’re
lost, you should know exactly where, by now; I’ve
watched you stare long and hard enough at the map
already…I’m beginning to think I may never
not be undecided, about all sorts of things: whether
snow really does resemble the broken laughter
of the long-abandoned when what left comes back
big-time; whether gratitude’s just a haunted
space like any other. This place sounds daily
more like a theater of war, each time I listen to it—
loss, surprise, victory, being only three of the countless
fates, if you want to call them that, that we don’t
so much live with, it seems, as live for now among. If as
close as we’re ever likely to get, you and I, is this—this close—
⛵️
Carl Phillips.
Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 19, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets
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.
__________________
life: acoustic & amplified 