life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Faith”

blinders off

 

 IN A FAR OFF CORNER

In a far off corner of a wide wide world

lies the circumstance that faces another.
A circumstance so abject that life

never really begins. And then it

dies quietly, announced by

an unheard whisper.
And from our corner of this world,

safe and secure under bejeweled roofs,

we pay our cursory glance of sympathy.
We forget that all corners connect, and

that the experience of each life lives

within us all. Albeit in disguise.
And we miss the possibility hidden

in the circumstance of another.
The possibility that compassion might soften

the edges of our own uneven experience,

and that the simple act of togetherness

might liberate our disheartened lives.
There are no far off corners

in this wide wide world.
And there are no separate lives.

💔
Nic Askew 

Home

  

I ride Greyhound

because it’s like being
in a John Steinbeck novel.
Next best thing is the laundromat.
That’s where all people
who would be on the bus if they had the money
hang out. This is my crowd.
Tonight there are cleaning people appalled
at the stupidity of anyone
who would put powder detergent
into the clearly marked LIQUID ONLY slot.
The couple by the vending machine
are fondling each other.
You’d think the orange walls
and fluorescent lights
would dampen that energy
but it doesn’t seem to.
It’s a singles scene here on Saturday nights.
I confide to the fellow next to me
that I suspect I am being taken
in by the triple loader,
maybe it doesn’t hold any more
than the regular machines
but I’m paying an extra fifty cents.
I tell him this meaningfully
holding handfuls of underwear.
He claims the triple loader
gives a better wash.
I don’t ask why,
just cruise over to the pop machine,
aware that my selection
may provide a subtle clue.
I choose Wild Berry,
head back to my clothes.

🌎

I Ride Greyhound by Ellie Schoenfeld 

  
I spot one. 

a coin laudro-mat

I feel blessed to be able to wash my clothes. 

towels and unmentionables. 

a small bag. 

I walk into the familiar,

yet for a while now, 

Blessedly Unfamiliar. 

I remember the years of this in my life

my most missed luxury in all of life

was washing and drying clothes

at home. 

So hard this part of life became. 

So challenging and humbling. 

$4.50 to wash 

a quarter for 5 minutes to dry. 

I struggle to adjust. 

I hadn’t planned on this. 

I don’t look the part today. 

I have to ask questions to reacquaint myself with this system. 

Here in the midst of 

hard working-and-living men, 

tired mothers and crying babies,

the immigrants and struggling,

These to whom I belong. 

those who make their living 

through making clean the dirty.
I stand and watch the circle go round 

Hot tears stinging my eyes

I remember. 

Those days. 

Those tough-as-nails days. 

Plunged from luxury to poverty

in a heartbeat-break of life. 

So soon we forget…

So quickly we remember…

I watch the water rise – 

  I didn’t put in enough soap. 

      There are no suds. 

I pray that hot water I chose 

for those 2 extra, hard-earned quarters,

 will do it’s work

and my clothes will smell good. 

I will not prolong my stay –

or use more of my precious coins. 
I pray each of our guardian-laundry angels 

will bless each of us

doing laundry every day 

in all types of conditions. 

This would be pure luxury in parts of this world. 

I pray for grace. 

I pray to remember. 

I pray to be grace. 

I pray to be The Words of God to heal the broken. 

I pray for grace. 

I pray for the crying baby,

and the tired man,

whose current outfit could use a good washing itself. 

I pray for the immigrant family,

quietly folding together,

speaking Spanish in hushed voices. 

I pray for the fabulous girl at the dryers,

with the faux Burberry scarf flung jauntily over her shoulder,

I hope to carry myself with such flair and dignity. 

We are all here –

Bearing the high cost,

and inconvenience,

of poverty in our society. 
I pray as quiet tears run. 

I stand in my washer’s corner hoping nobody sees my memories. 

I blow my over-productive nose. 

and give thanks for all things. 

Especially that I have known these struggles.

That I know how this feels. 

That I am part of this humanity. 

Not separate 

I am one with all God’s created people. 

All seeking clean clothes,

washing machines

and hope. 
The crying baby starts to laugh

I smile as well. 

God is always good

I am always blessed – 

If I am willing to see the blessings –

even if it takes years and years to see them.

🔘

AL

  

St Patrick’s Day

 

 

  
To be so moved by a song, it’s lyrics, the music, a voice, by art, by nature, by a teaching, by a person. Moved to a point where your heart breaks open so wide that you know that the pulse of life is beating as One. It’s the Universal Heartbeat, of which can feel as if it is within you. Truth is, that feeling is us being of God. 

🎼

   – Robyn Whiteman

full investigation…   

 

 Author Kent Crockett tells this classic story about his two year old son, Scott, who was sitting on the floor crying. Kent went into the room to investigate and he noticed a plastic baseball bat on the floor and asked his four year old daughter what happened. His little girl, Hannah, said, “He hit his head.” Kent said, “On what?” She pointed to the floor and said, “The bat.” Kent said, “Where was the bat?” She said, “In my hands.”
 

  

  

Where there is love

Where there is people

There is pain

Disappointment

Misunderstanding

Differences

Separation

Tears 

Imperfection

Where there is love

Where there is people

There is joy

Inspiration

Community

Understanding

Connection 

Life is about love

Life is about people

Embracing it all 

Feeling it all 

❤️💔❤️💔❤️💔❤️

AL

  
   
  

  

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

stay in the moment  

 

I do not wish you riches, not the glow of greatness.

But that wherever you go, some weary heart shall gladden at your smile,

or some shadowed life know sunshine for a while.

So may your path be a track of light,

like angel’s footsteps passing through the night.

                                                                                          -Found in an old church in Upwaltham, England

what if I never see this spot again?

what if this is my last day to see this particular

brand of beauty?

what if I never again feel the depths of the oh-so-perfect imperfection of who I am at this place?

what if I never again have a conversation 

with these polka-dot tailed seagulls?

never see these particular shades of blue and green/grey metallic ocean 

reflecting this piece of sky 

dotted with these aged green mossed stoned edges 

and raggedy, fragile, wisp-clouds?

what if the sun doesn’t ever hit my eyes again with this same blinding glory-glare,

this playtime, fun-time, of winter sun heat

mixed with just a hint of coming springtime chill?

can I drink enough in this moment?

can I permanently record the glorious, salty, smell of this ordinary, extraordinary, morning 

into my eternal bank account 

of favorite things ever?

will I be present enough to this once in a lifetime experience of right-this-very minute-ness,

to hold it inside my bones,

absorb it into the very fabric of my dna,

so that it actually becomes me?

so that, my future conversations

with all the grieving, broke-down, hearts;

all the rioting, joyous, hearts;

all the skipping.a.beat wondering,

or sandbag.heavy wandering hearts;

in this world,

will be informed by this exquisite soul beauty. 

will they be able to feel this exact moment

massaged into the broken hope of their lost wholeness?

will they feel the bubbles of it in the champagne of their happiness?

see the beginnings of the road home within their weary, dusty, blistered pilgrimage feet?

will I be able to allow it to glow, 

flow, 

freely

to every child of God?

will I be able to remember? 

this light is the light of everything.

we are all God’s children. 

we are all God’s beloved children. 

☀️

AL

 

 So that I stopped there
and looked into the waters

seeing not only

my reflected face

but the great sky

that framed my lonely figure

and after a moment

I lifted my hands

and then my eyes

and I allowed myself

to be

astonished

by the great everywhere

calling to me

like an old,

invisible and unspoken

invitation,

like something

in one moment

both calling to me

and radiating

from where I stood,

as if I could encompass

everything I had been given

and everything ever

taken from me 

as if I could be

everything I have learned 

and everything

I could ever know,

as if I knew

in that moment

both the way I had come

and, secretly,

the way

I was still promised to go,

brought together,

like this,

with the unyielding ground

and the symmetry

of the moving sky,

caught in still waters,

 

Someone I have been,

and someone

I am just, 

about to become,

something I am

and will be forever,

the sheer generosity

of being loved

through loving:

the miracle reflection

of a twice blessed life.

Š Twice Blessed by David Whyte: from  Work in Progress

  

extra special

  
An extra day —

Like the painting’s fifth cow,
who looks out directly,
straight toward you,
from inside her black and white spots. 

An extra day —

Accidental, surely:
the made calendar stumbling over the real
as a drunk trips over a threshold
too low to see.

An extra day —

With a second cup of black coffee.
A friendly but businesslike phone call.
A mailed-back package.
Some extra work, but not too much —
just one day’s worth, exactly.

An extra day —

Not unlike the space
between a door and its frame
when one room is lit and another is not,
and one changes into the other
as a woman exchanges a scarf.

An extra day —

Extraordinarily like any other.
And still
there is some generosity to it,
like a letter re-readable after its writer has died.

💌

February 29 by Jane Hirshfield

  

 

do a little bit more

 

I hope you have a great day

I hope you know I love you

I hope you love me in whatever way you can

I hope you see the miracles today

I hope you make good choices

I hope you find peace

I hope life blooms again for you

I hope the lights lead you home

I hope you see the shining possibility of the future 

I hope you always remember 

😘

AL

  

 One day you will find the thing
You are meant to love

And it will whittle you down

Make you lean of excess

One day the tattered baggage

You’ve been carrying from place to place

Will get set down on the side of the road

With hardly a thought

One day you’ll decide you’ve had enough

Of the shackles chaffing your ankles

And you’ll walk out of them

The ties that once bound so tightly suddenly slack

One day you’ll be nothing but sinew and bone and burning passion

All claws and wails and sweetness and strength

A wild thing

A thing that’s found its home

🏡

One Day by BRANDI REYNOLDS

 

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

Oh yes! 

  
What a great day! and now this gift from Richard Rohr!! 

Unlearning as I go today! 

morning blessing

   
photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT

   I place on the alter of dawn:

 The quiet loyalty of breath,

 The tent of thought where I shelter,

 Waves of desire I am shore to

 And all beauty drawn to the eye. 
May my mind come alive today

 To the invisible geography

 That invites me to new frontiers,

 To break the dead shell of yesterdays,

 To risk being disturbed and changed. 
May I have the courage today

 To live the life that I would love,

 To postpone my dream no longer

 But do at last what I came here for

 And waste my heart on fear no more. 

🌀

  – John O’Donohue
Excerpt from, ‘A Morning Offering’

 TO BLESS THE SPACE BETWEEN US (US) / BENEDICTUS (Europe)

  
In the space between breaths 

It can be gone 

A months worth of words 

Erased with a fingertip 

A 12, 30 even 60 year marriage over 

With 4 words spoken: 

I want a divorce 

A home with all it’s possessions 

Destroyed in a matter of minutes in the fury of nature – 

Fire or storm 

Life 

Love

So fragile 

With no guarantees 

Of longevity 

Or comfort 

Begs to be felt

Now 

To be counted for the sake of goodness 

This is the only moment that counts 

The only thing eternal 

Don’t wait 

Take a deep deep breath 

Of the spirit that is giving it all 

Say thank you 

For the only gift that matters 

The only thing that remains 

All else can be destroyed 

When nothing else remains 

What is this eternal gift,

given new every morning? 

Love 

💖

AL

 

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

When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us.   – John O’Donohue

  
love warriors walk through this world

love dripping from open hands

falling onto shattered pieces of the broken 

staining bits of the kaleidoscope of hearts

stepping carefully

slowing down

as the ones who have forgotten to know

appear to do battle

not knowing what they have forgotten…

we are all the light

we are each the beloved..

please let me hold you

touch those wounded places

rub love on the sore spots

until you remember

what you already know

stay here with me 

for a long long while

let’s walk together

connecting 

hands

hearts

love

as we go

allowing the drip to become 

a pour

a fountain 

a river

an ocean

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

☀️

AL

  
  
photos found at http://www.pinterest.com

🌙

At the heart of things is a secret law of balance and when our approach is respectful, sensitive and worthy, gifts of healing, challenge and creativity open to us. A gracious approach is the key that unlocks the treasure of encounter. The way we are present to each other is frequently superficial. We become more interested in ‘connection’ rather than communion. In many areas of our lives the rich potential of friendship and love remains out of our reach because we push towards ‘connection.’ When we deaden our own depths, we cannot strike a resonance in those we meet or in the work we do. A reverence of approach awakens depth and enables us to be truly present where we are. When we approach with reverence great things decide to approach us. Our real life comes to the surface and its light awakens the concealed beauty of things. When we walk on the earth with reverence, beauty will decide to trust us. The rushed heart and the arrogant mind lack the gentleness and patience to enter that embrace. Beauty is mysterious, a slow presence who waits for the ready, expectant heart. 

💖

 John O’Donohue 

 Excerpt from BEAUTY

 

photo by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT 

am i?

 

 Quiet friend who has come so far, 
feel how your breathing makes more space around you. 

Let this darkness be a bell tower 

and you the bell. As you ring, 
what batters you becomes your strength. 

Move back and forth into the change. 

What is it like, such intensity of pain? 

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine. 
In this uncontainable night, 

be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, 

the meaning discovered there. 
And if the world has ceased to hear you, 

say to the silent earth: I flow. 

To the rushing water, speak: I am

🛤

qII, 29 [Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower] by Rainer Maria Rilke

   

 Crossroads and choices, now is the time to decide which path will lead to the garden and more healthy life choices. One just doesn’t wait until Midsummer and think about growing fresh produce for a salad.

   – Old Moss Woman’s Secret Garden/facebook

  
When an open heart meets an open hand, the result is more feast and more love, enough for a small village to be nurtured from this drawer alone. I see this and recognize him instantly: a soul brother, a lover of life, a father, a friend, a ringleader, a listener, a creative co-conspirator, a holder…of space, of hearts, of possibilities. A man with much to give and more to say, to a yearning, hopeful world.

   – Jen Lemen

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

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