life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “find art at pinterest”

even on the hard days    

  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

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

   
   
and for each person in this world 🙏🏻

grid & flow  

 

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

  

 

da da da dada

 

I’m not asking for permission
tho I thank you for your good intentions in the giving

I surrender to 

life

voice

purpose

passion 

healing

love

music

breath

spirit

joy

peace

you do what you want

with, or without, permission,

I won’t mind 

just remember:

I won’t go down without a fight

da da da dada

da da da dada

da da da dada da da da da…

just play your funky music

and keep on dancing

💞

AL 

(with a little inspiration from my friends) 

Listen to Serenity Fisher sing Rose Red

  

what sacrifice?

how can you call it a sacrifice when you do it willingly because you believe in it?   – Aung San Suu Kyi 

 

 
I am this morning meadow

         into which you pour yourself.
I am the still air

         in which you rise, a mountain, huge.
I am this city street

         which you walk, a crowd 

         with your stories, your nations.
I am this bird

          and you are flight, and song.
I am the ocean

         and you are my water.
I am the desert

         and you are my stillness.
I am this heart

         and you are my beating.
You are this day

         into which you pour me, 

         breath by breath.
Together,

         we are this life.
__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

  

there is no cage 

love must be stepped into 

freely. 

there is no withholding 

love gives it all away. 

there is no have to’s 

love must be given and received willingly. 

there is no selfish motive 

love always wants the highest and best for the other person. 

there are no ‘no’s’ 

love always says yes. 

love takes commitment. 

it is not an easy job, 

both parties – 

equal and 

100 percent in it. 

you must choose what you want, 

along with the consequences of those choices. 

Just know, for sure, 

love will always set you free 

there is no fear in love

AL

  

when you’re ready 

   
    
  
  
 

 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

somewhere in New Jersey…

  
‘I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.’ 

‘I should think so — in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!’

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

 

this morning began at 4! I’ve been on my adventure for a couple hours now. This post is at my first Starbucks stop (chestnut praline latte, how I love thee) more posts and poetry as I go today… ❤️

   
    
 http://youtu.be/dBN86y30Ufc

wherever you go

 

Now I understand that there are two melodies playing, 

one below the other, one easier to hear, the other 
lower, steady, perhaps more faithful for being less heard 

yet always present. 
When all other things seem lively and real, 

this one fades. Yet the notes of it 
touch as gently as fingertips, as the sound 

of the names laid over each child at birth. 
I want to stay in that music without striving or cover. 

If the truth of our lives is what it is playing, 
the telling is so soft 

that this mortal time, this irrevocable change, 
becomes beautiful. I stop and stop again 

to hear the second music. 
I hear the children in the yard, a train, then birds. 

All this is in it and will be gone. I set my ear to it as I would to a heart. 

💞

 The Second Music by Annie Lighthart
 

 God is my presence of mind 
My anger 

My passion 

My resistance 

God is my breathe 

My movement 

My flow 

God is my present circumstance 

My living 

My future 

My past 

God is my water 

My fire 

My earth 

My loving 

My glory 

My holy 

God is my music 

My melody 

My harmony

My song 

🎼

AL

  

epic

  
Life is an epic journey 

A pilgrimage 

Not for the faint of heart 

Without the challenging parts of the path 

We grow weak 

Without those things that can kill us 

We grow bored 

We need life to be interesting 

challenging

changing

to feel alive 

Yes, life is a crazy sort of journey 

Welcome to the great adventure 

💃🏻

AL

 

 Wild Mercy
The eyes of the future are looking back at us and they are praying for us to see beyond our own time. They are kneeling with hands clasped that we might act with restraint, that we might leave room for the life that is destined to come. To protect what is wild is to protect what is gentle. Perhaps the wildness we fear is the pause between our own heartbeats, the silent space that says we live only by grace. Wilderness lives by this same grace. Wild mercy is in our hands.

– Terry Tempest Williams

Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert Dwellers

 

Listen to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

tricky 

  
So, I’ve been thinking about discipline- you know, the thing we think we need to find if we are going to do the things we know are good for us (like eating well, exercise, daily meditation etc.) I can clamp down with my will and pick up those aspirations daily- but at times it just feels like endless work, and sooner or later I run out of steam. 
So lately, I’ve been trying something different. Instead of berating myself and insisting that today (or tomorrow) I will dig deep and find the necessary discipline, I’ve been thinking about giving myself gifts. 
As in- today, I’m giving myself the gift of taking a walk in the autumn leaves, of taking my time in prayer and meditation, of making a wonderful stew for dinner. If I can keep my attitude in the range of doing something kind for myself (as opposed to doing something I think I “should” do) not only is it easier to create good self-care, it becomes about receiving that care with gratitude. 
And that’s just a more enjoyable way to receive the gift of this day. 

~Oriah 

 

   


   

Halloween was confusing. All my life my parents said, ‘Never take candy from strangers.’ And then they dressed me up and said, ‘Go beg for it.’ I didn’t know what to do! I’d knock on people’s doors and go, ‘Trick or treat.’ ‘No thank you.’

– Rita Rudner  

  

 

let the light  

  
You work with what you are given, 

the red clay of grief, 

the black clay of stubbornness going on after. 

Clay that tastes of care or carelessness, 

clay that smells of the bottoms of rivers or dust.
Each thought is a life you have lived or failed to live, 

each word is a dish you have eaten or left on the table. 

There are honeys so bitter 

no one would willingly choose to take them. 

The clay takes them: honey of weariness, honey of vanity, 

honey of cruelty, fear. 
This rebus —slip and stubbornness, 

bottom of river, my own consumed life— 

when will I learn to read it 

plainly, slowly, uncolored by hope or desire? 

Not to understand it, only to see. 
As water given sugar sweetens, given salt grows salty, 

we become our choices. 

Each yes, each no continues, 

this one a ladder, that one an anvil or cup. 
The ladder leans into its darkness. 

The anvil leans into its silence. 

The cup sits empty. 
How can I enter this question the clay has asked? 

🔹

Rebus by Jane Hirshfield

 

 The lion still roars 
I walk in grief 

On the purple beach 

the grey-green water 

meeting the sky 

Into infinity 

the world unending 

I sit on driftwood 

Fascinatingly carved by water 

Into pieces of art 

and shapes that look like 

cattle skulls in the desert 

I cry as I pick up rocks 

Why do i grieve such simple things?

Those precious shells 

I spent hours snorkeling for 

In 1985 

You polished them 

til they were smooth as silk 

So beautiful 

I loved everything about them 

and that memory they held 

Back When the world was still 

A mystery 

And I knew nothing about hardship 

Loss or pain 

I thought love and life were simple 

That you wanted me to be happy

That you loved me 

That we would build a family together 

I kept those shells in a special jar 

Would let the kids play with them

For a special treat 

I loved their delight in them 

As they played for hours 

sorting the colors and shapes 

Loving the story of us at the start

I Kept them close to me 

Through all the losses 

Then they were gone 

lost to me forever 

way after my innocence 

but somehow they took 

some shred I was holding on to 

Some secret part of me and you 

that was still beautiful 
As I picked up small beautiful rocks 

today at the beach 

They reminded me 

and it all returned 

all the losses 

all the pain 

What you chose 

The choices I was forced to make 

The price of gaining my soul 

The cost of winning my freedom 

I cry so deeply 

Right to the core 

such intense love 

for the wounded heart 

carried in small pieces 

of the world 

connecting all the pain 

and love together 

Bittersweet grief 

Bittersweet love 

Exquisite pain 

Exquisite joy 

Will I ever find love that understands this? 

Will I ever share this same heart as one? 

Will I ever make it home? 

Will I ever make it? 

Will I ever? 

Will I? 

Will? 

💙

AL

 

    

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

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