life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “giving”

open says me

  
📩

I’ve received all these things 

in envelopes

of various shapes,

colors even:

checks

cash

invitations

cards

art

poems

precious stones

rocks

music

glitter

bills

pills

seeds

buttons

forgiveness 

candy

letters

cards

keys

doodles

stickers

stamps

words

hate

love

broken love

addresses

certificates 

the list goes on…

I search for direction a poem about envelopes

and all these different envelopes, 

from years past, 

pass, 

kaleidoscope like,

filing quickly through my thoughts – 

then come the questions –

what about pushing the envelope? 

(where did that saying come from?)

what about return to sender?

what about that pony express? 

what about priority mail?

Then the simple thought descends –

Envelopes contain sealed mysteries 

easily revealed by tearing them open

as do we…

we never know what we’ll find

until we get inside. 

💌

AL

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

✉️📬

what we choose lives on

  
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

  

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

  

 

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 

give us peace 🇺🇸

 I, may I rest in peace—I, who am still living, say,

May I have peace in the rest of my life.

I want peace right now while I’m still alive.

I don’t want to wait like that pious man who wished for one leg

of the golden chair of Paradise, I want a four-legged chair

right here, a plain wooden chair. I want the rest of my peace now.

I have lived out my life in wars of every kind: battles without 

and within, close combat, face-to-face, the faces always

my own, my lover-face, my enemy-face.

Wars with the old weapons—sticks and stones, blunt axe, words,

dull ripping knife, love and hate,

and wars with newfangled weapons—machine gun, missile, 

words, land mines exploding, love and hate,

I don’t want to fulfill my parents’ prophecy that life is war.

I want peace with all my body and all my soul.

Rest me in peace.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

I, May I Rest in Peace by Yehuda Amichai

   For all whose lives have been taken by war,

grant your mercy O God.

For soldiers, civilians, those wounded and neglected,

grant your mercy, O God.

For earth despoiled and living beings sacrificed,

grant your mercy, O God.

For our glorification of war and violence

and our willingness to hurt others

to defend ourselves,

grant your mercy, O God.

We give thanks for your beloved 

whom we have sacrificed;

we ask blessing for their loved ones,

confess our need for your grace,

and pray for the redemption of society.

Spirit of compassion and gentleness,

in the name of the One who was sacrificed,

save us by your grace,

and grant us your mercy.

Amen

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

🇺🇸 happy Memorial Day

Listen to Garth sing We Shall Be Free http://youtu.be/13s9eciFDzA

Quote photo sources found at www.pinterest.com

love letters

 As I gaze into the world, I realise

that nothing falters in its
ability to reflect what
I’ve come here to see.

 

My challenge remains
to admit
to what it is
that I’ve seen.
👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓👓
The Reflection by Nic Askew

 It is time to write.

To blog.

To truthtell.

To confess, expose, reveal…

be real and raw and silly-serious moment by moment me.

Here. Now.      -vs-.       Someday. When.

Someday when I know what I’m doing?

Have it figured out?

Plotted, schemed, planned, blueprinted, outlined?

READY.

Ptttthhhhh! You know THAT day, right?

I am a beautiful messy mess heap of chaos and presence

Wanna know something?

My insides are scribbling.

I am scared. Scared of being scared. Scared of being scared of being scared.

Yesterday I shared with friends that I do not comprehend why I get

So. damn. frozen. stuck. stymied. in my lack of tracks

when.ever. I. contemplate coming here                                                                                                 (yes, here, to a wordpress screen, fingers on keys)                                                                               and writing any.thing.at. all.

(as clearly evidenced by the chronic non-posts pervading this site, right?)

And I think I must find out what is “wrong” and-or “why oh why”                                                             in order to overcome and be                                                                                                                 the golden-hued, prolific, profound, insightful, inspirational blogging goddess                                       that we all know is in here                                                                                                       somewhere.

(Ohhhhhhhh…. could that be why?!)

They told me to just write. Write me. For me.

Not for you. Or them. Or any grand scheme purpose.

Simply to write. Express. Allow words to come. Flow.                                                                     Have their inexplicable way with me.

So here I am.

Shaking. Criticizing. Condemning. Regretting.                                                                          ALLOWING. Receiving.                                                                                                                     Sharing.                                                                                                                                             (Insert loud screechy horror movie scream here)

Writing words from voices whispering, hollering, quivering and shimmering

Fastwriting over, under, beside and through the scribbley scary insides

Less pretend pretense.

More real raw-been Robin.

I am a writer, after all.

I am also a Leader of Laughter and Guider of Dreams and Creativity Coach.                                       And that scribble and scrape-slops my insides, too.

I just want to hide. Run away. Hibernate. Meditate. Extrapolate.

You have no idea (wait, but maybe you do?)                                                                                         just how much energy I spend resisting

what I’m meant to do.

Fighting, warring, tugging, slugging, ugamugging.

It is ongoing, this internal bickering with all the voices

vying to be heeded and heard,

whining, cajoling, singing, snorting

All these damn voices, yearning.

I am hushing you (shhhhhh now, it’s ok)

setting you free

be unleashed upon a page, a stage,

keep me real, release release

have your way with me.

It is time to write. 

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

      – Robin OK @ http://laughndream.com/2015/03/truthscribbles/

 

photos and sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513 

gold is not afraid of the fire

Page by page it was written into their flesh, not by addition but instead by what they gave away

The emptiness inscribed itself upon them
until all the text that remained of them
was a thin track
lingering 
in the dust
until even that
blew away
and was carried off by a vast silence. 
Jan Richardson
In the Sanctuary of Women











photo source tracks found at http://pinterest.com/al513

The unfolding of the bare human soul … that is what interests me. Bruce Lee

IMG_6902
I sit with the ghost of ashes
on my forehead,
still raw and sore,
feeling the sting and exhaustion
that comes from vulnerability
in the face of possible rejection.
I feel unworthy,
even as I know I don’t need to.
I felt under dressed –
one of my hardest, most shame-filled, pettiest horrors in life.
I felt judged as less than,
even though I do not know for sure I was.
I feel broken,
crushed,
I sit in the ash heap of my past
reflected in the story I have to tell.
my truth –
it’s so ugly,
so jagged,
how can it ever be redeemed?
how can I possibly be arrogant enough to think that God will use me,
restore my life,
even bless me?

Because He already has.
Because the truth is, he is making beauty right in these ashes,
even this very moment.
If I have ever believed that for sure –
then this is the time to truly believe it.
No matter the judgement of anyone.
No matter the temptation which these feelings bring – yes, this is the wicked temptation –
to tempt me to feel
unworthy,
less than,
like I don’t belong,
like I can’t make new choices,
like my clothes matter more than my soul,
so I turn away and give up.
So I do not risk this feeling
by just not sharing my story.
So I forget, or ignore, the multitudes of miracles.
So I just take my life in my own hands and make something happen for myself, without God.
As I am tempted to do each moment.

I want to heap the ashes on my head,
sit in them,
rip my already hole-y sweat pants even more.
I want to wail –
instead of this civilized way of crying with tissues catching my overactive sinus production.
I want to run far away and have someone tell me I’m pretty,
I’m a victim,
Life’s unfair.

Yes, I am tasting ashes for lent.
Today, I am very aware of my inefficiencies.
I bow with humility.
I bow in gratitude.
I have nothing
Yet!
(there is hope!!!)
I am beloved!
thank God,
Easter is coming!!

AL 3/6/14

20 things you might consider giving up this Lent. And these are things to give up not just for Lent, but for the rest of your life.

• Guilt – I am loved by Jesus and he has forgiven my sins. Today is a new day and the past is behind.
• Fear – God is on my side. In him I am more than a conqueror. (see Romans 8)
• The need to please everyone – I can’t please everyone anyways. There is only one I need to strive to please.
• Envy – I am blessed. My value is not found in my possessions, but in my relationship with my Heavenly Father.
• Impatience – God’s timing is the perfect timing.
• Sense of entitlement – The world does not owe me anything. God does not owe me anything. I live in humility and grace.
• Bitterness and Resentment – The only person I am hurting by holding on to these is myself.
• Blame – I am not going to pass the buck. I will take responsibility for my actions.
• Gossip and Negativity – I will put the best construction on everything when it comes to other people. I will also minimize my contact with people who are negative and toxic bringing other people down.
• Comparison – I have my own unique contribution to make and there is no one else like me.
• Fear of failure – You don’t succeed without experiencing failure. Just make sure you fail forward.
• A spirit of poverty – Believe with God that there is always more than enough and never a lack
• Feelings of unworthiness – You are fearfully and wonderfully made by your creator. (see Psalm 139)
• Doubt – Believe God has a plan for you that is beyond anything you could imagine. The future is brighter than you could ever realize.
• Self-pity – God comforts us in our sorrow so that we can comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.
• Retirement – As long as you are still breathing, you are here for a reason. You have a purpose to influence others for Christ. That does not come to an end until the day we die.
• Excuses – A wise man once said, if you need an excuse, any excuse will do.
• Lack of counsel – Wise decisions are rarely made in a vacuum.
• Pride – Blessed are the humble.
• Worry – God is in control and worrying will not help.
God has so much more in store for you. But so many of these things above are holding you back from walking in the full destiny he has laid out for you. Today is a new day.

So there you have it. What else might you add to the list?

God’s blessings,
Pastor Phil
http://gs4nj.org/20-things-to-give-up-for-lent/

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cost of freedom

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In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If you break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders Fields
By Major John McCrae – 1915 – Boezinge

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Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me
Happy Easter!!!

not in vain

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I said, “I have labored in vain,
yet surely my cause is with the Lord.”
The Holy One says,
“I will give you as a light to the nations,
that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”
—Isaiah 49.4, 6

Beloved,
you do not see your own face,
nor can you hear God’s delight in you.
You can’t hold your work in your hands.
You can’t know the whole tapestry
into which you are woven.
God’s grace works within, unseen.
Go with the mere faith
that you are God’s thread.

No star can guess its place in the heavens,
which are nonetheless glorious.
The Beloved is continually making this world,
saying, “Let there be light:”
and you walk out into the darkness,
and God says, “It is good.”
The miracle rolls on to the end of the earth
until all is mended, all is beautiful,
all is blessed.
________________________
Weather Report

Low lying fog,
with visibility often reduced
so that you cannot see
the good of your life,
dissipating later;
clearer at higher elevations.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

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