Love came to tell me,
‘there is nothing that does not include me…
from your breath
to the neighbor
who is hard to ‘tolerate.’
Everything is love
it’s all connected
it’s all life’s about
So, Love came to call,
to tell me,
to make sure I truly understood,
what love looks like.
The real thing
is costly,
is all powerful,
all encompassing.
Yes, love came
and stayed,
whispering in my ear,
every damn day
reminding me,
‘There is nothing
that does not include me…
nothing’
😘
AL
Some people move through your life
like the perfume of peonies, heavy
and sensual and lingering.
Some people move through your life
like the sweet musky scent of cosmos
so delicate if you sniff twice, it’s gone.
Some people occupy your life
like moving men who cart off
couches, pianos and break dishes.
Some people touch you so lightly you
are not sure it happened. Others leave
you flat with footprints on your chest.
Some are like those fall warblers
you can’t tell from each other even
though you search Petersen’s.
Some come down hard on you like
a striking falcon and the scars remain
and you are forever wary of the sky.
We all are waiting rooms at bus
stations where hundreds have passed
through unnoticed and others
have almost burned us down
and others have left us clean and new
and others have just moved in.
👫👬👫👭👫
The visible and the in- by Marge Piercy
my fellow exalted, beautiful beings,
full of grace,
as we touch and pass,
respectfully 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 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.
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
of sound,
of hum,
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 stars and starships.
at times,
in spite of our broken pieces,
shattered places,
our refusal to believe,
even our own darkened hearts.
–
astonishing,
isn’t it?
ok, now forget it all –
and practice tenderness.
💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻
AL
HAPPY EASTER!
I open myself to Your love
I move into being Your beloved
I allow myself the gift of confidence
I allow my insecurities to drift away
I stop trying to impress you with my gifts
with my ability to love you enough
I don’t have to prove anything
I have to be willing to trust
The keys to the kingdom
come through my laying down
surrender
like you on that cross
for one reason only
because you love me passionately
I can’t help but love You
I will give up my way
and trust Your plan
Your resurrection
Your love
no matter what comes
running with patience
knowing that it’s all for my good
because I know You
You have restored my soul
You have given me life
Surely goodness and mercy
now follow me everywhere
like cute puppy dogs
playing on the green grass
licking my face
with happiness
love keeps changing me
every flower is grace
🐰
AL
“For us women the spiritual life, in one way, is easier than for men. Only a certain temperament of man can surrender like we can surrender. And spiritual life is surrender. Bhai Sahib said, ‘Women are taken up through the path of love, for love is a feminine mystery.’ He said we women do not need many spiritual practices. We need only to renounce. Renounce what? Renounce the world. Complete renunciation, which is the most difficult thing for the woman, is necessary. I had to do it—to give everything away. Bhai Sahib said to me, “You cannot say to the Beloved, ‘Oh I love you, but this is mine, and so far and no further.'” You have to give everything away, including yourself, in complete surrender.”
💞
~ Irina Tweedie (20th century Russian Sufi mystic)
Yesterday, this poem (below) resurfaced. I wrote it a while ago, after a disappointment. It immediately spoke up and wanted to appear on the blog…I said, hmmmm, do I really want to go there in public? It kept saying, yes (and refusing to be ignored). OK. Surrender brings humility. Rejection beings a chance to learn new layers. Love, and life, require courage.
So, I am posting this poem for whoever it is for…
have you ever given,
or received,
a gift –
unwanted,
or misunderstood?
We’ve built a whole retail myth of love
from giving,
mostly,
unwanted gifts.
‘Re-gifting’ is a popular side effect
of things taken,
out of obligation,
by others who don’t want,
or think they need,
the present presented.
It’s a thing in relationships as well,
it takes two to tango.
If one person is wanting something,
the other is not able to understand,
or accept,
it just doesn’t work.
This week I experienced a return.
My greatest gift,
the gift of me,
held out to another.
My gift was not wanted,
so, eventually, I withdrew
this large, tall gift of
myself,
complete with all I have to bring to a relationship.
I wanted to share this with someone,
who I love,
but that person doesn’t want the same thing I want.
This gift of sharing all of the various shades, shapes and colors of our souls
in this amazing thing called life.
One of my lessons,
hardest learned –
you can’t give someone something,
if they don’t want it.
I have become mindfully committed to
not allowing a glimpse of possibility,
or potential,
to derail me from what I really want.
Never. never. never….
settle,
Never. never. never….
quit!
You can make lemonade from lemons,
but
you can’t make a silk purse
out of a sow’s ear.
This week I received blessed closure.
The final collapse of space held for another to enter
The invitation explored,
expired,
I moved into new, beautiful space.
No more allowing,
or trying to give myself
to someone who didn’t really want what I have to give.
It’s not wrong,
it’s just painful.
Unconditional love is free,
living and giving it
requires responsibility to living my highest and best
and requiring that in return.
I believe in it,
completely,
however,
it will cost you,
change you,
require much more than cheaper versions of love.
Not everyone can accept the responsibility of this gift,
which always requires the best of us,
the same in gift in return,
knowing its value,
tenderest of care,
thinking of the other,
stepping out of our ego,
into its vast ocean of mystery,
life changing grace.
This week I followed the gift full circle.
I woke up a bit sad,
truthfully, for both of us,
but new,
released from the wish of what was not to be.
I hope to be able to re-gift it soon,
to someone
who truly knows how to value it,
nurture it,
return it to me,
equally,
with the dream,
the vision,
of what could be,
if we build an ark of this love,
sail into the mystic
and invite the world
to the best party ever…
Water into wine,
has always been,
just the beginning of miracles!!!!!
❤️💔❤️
AL
Copperleaf Lane is dancing in white,
like a row of brides,
as ready,
as they possibly could be
to say, I do.
I drive through the flower strewn pathway
feeling special,
like life is unfolding,
just for the love of me.
I am beloved,
a daughter of graces,
twirling within this beauty,
this bounty,
the world’s abundance falling freely around me.
I sing,
la dee da dee da
You keep filling my senses,
you keep walking towards me,
smiling,
that beautiful heart of yours,
held gently,
tenderly,
within your hands –
the perfect gift
for a girl like me.
Heaven is holding its breath…
counting intensely…
1…
2..
❤️
AL
TURNING TOWARD HOME
The moment you have spoken the exact words that describe your distance from where you want to be, the moment you have uttered the exact aching dimensionality of your own exile, you have already turned around, faced the other way and taken the first steps on the long awaited journey home…
🌳
David Whyte
THE THREE MARRIAGES
Re-imagining Work, Self and Relationship
yesterday I was born a leaf
a small fragile tender wisp
trembling as I hung on the vine
yesterday I was a gust of air
short lived, but not insignificant
full of bone rattling cold and hat disturbing bravado
yesterday I was a large, slow, snow flake
plopping down like a wet goose feather
making the world a magical place
yesterday I was a world made of glass
lying shattered on the floor
hoping to be recycled into a new and useful object
yesterday I was various people
a student, a host, a friend, a lover
feeling my way into the next moment hoping to find a way home
yesterday I stood tall as a tree
proud yet with humble confidence
accepting what winter brought, gently weeping,
embracing this brand new life bringing
spring
🌿
AL
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 disperse it into the world?
or dancing in a beautiful fountain, with you, bring sanity?
what if I shout it proud to everyone I pass on street?
will they clap to hear my good news?
will you wish me happy for every morning and evening?
will you take a train, plane or automobile to see me?
will you hold me & tell me that I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?
will you love me with all you are for everything I am right now,
and ever will be becoming?
living well is my best revenge
won’t it would be nice to share this happiness?
do wild and crazy things?
come on, everybody,
let’s let joy flow in big puddles all around us,
till we jump like children,
till we swim in the ocean of all this blessed grace
🌫
AL
find more amazement from Tyler Spangler @ http://tylerspangler.com
🌗
I reason, Earth is short —
And Anguish — absolute —
And many hurt,
But, what of that?
I reason, we could die — The best Vitality Cannot excel Decay, But, what of that?
I reason that in Heaven — Somehow, it will be even — Some new Equation, given — But, what of that?
🌗
I reason, Earth is short… (301) by Emily Dickinson
I sink back upon the ground, expecting to die. A voice speaks out of my ear, You are not going to die, you are being changed into a zebra. You will have black and white stripes up and down your back and you will love people as you do not now. That is why you will be changed into a zebra that people will tame and exhibit in a zoo. You will be a favorite among children and you will love the children in return whom you do not love now. Zoo keepers will make a pet of you because of your round, sad eyes and musical bray, and you will love your keeper as you do not now. All is well, then, I tell myself silently, listening to the voice in my ear speak to me of my future. And what will happen to you, voice in my ear, I ask silently, and the answer comes at once: I will be your gentle, musical bray that will help you as a zebra all your days. I will mediate between the world and you, and I will learn to love you as a zebra whom I did not love as a human being.
🌗
I sink back upon the ground… by David Ignatow
🌗
In “Farewell to Arms” Ernest Hemingway wrote, “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
– Ocean Palmer quotes EH 
photos found at http://www.pinterest.com
Little bird why you singin’ that sad song?
Makin’ me cry as I sing along
Did you know that your cage doors open wide?
All ya gotta do is just step outside.
Can’t nobody stop you
Cause you were born to fly
Til you touch the sky
Friends with every tree
You were born to be free
And I’ll dance along
To your freedom song
Little girl why you singin’ that sad song?
Cause he robbed you, now you’ve got no home
Think you’re stuck, locked inside of this damn cage
broken heart, broken dreams upon this page
Little boy I know that song you sing
She’s not right, you can do anything.
Cause your so much stronger than these chains.
you are free and your freedom bells just rang
Can’t nobody stop you
Cause you were born to fly
Til you touch the sky
Friends with every tree
You were born to be free
And I’ll dance along
To your freedom song
If we don’t use it
We ain’t free
It’s our choice
It’s up to each
If we don’t choose it
We won’t ever be
Everything we were born to be
Can’t nobody stop us
Cause we were born to fly
Til we touch the sky
Friends with every tree
We were born to be free
Won’t you dance along
To our freedom song
🌗
AL
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
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
God, save me from the lie
of an acceptable death,
the heroic sacrifice (too many spent),
a crazed god’s scheme
to sell forgiveness for blood.
Save me from the anticipated gesture,
the deal agreed upon.
Deliver me instead into truth’s sordid lap,
the bewildering perversion
that comes of fear, and death its only issue,
violence its only hands and feet;
the way we judge, the way we think we can.
Let me not blame this on you.
No: only in the jumpy torchlight
of the unnecessary flames
of another lynching, another rape,
a war, an execution,
the tragedy of power,
only here in honest horror
do we see your awful love in all its range,
your inexplicable grace unbending,
mercy nailed and crowned with thorns.
Only here in our deepest depravity,
not planned, not paid for, but accepted,
can I know love strong enough
to save me and all this trembling world
not from that but this,
not from the fear of hell
but from the hell itself of fear.
Only in my deepest loss, and yours,
do I see love win
and raise me up to something new
and really alive.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
walking by faith
expecting miracles
we rely on things to come
we hope in what is not seen
we stand on invisible ground
fly without evidence of our wings
we fight battle with foes from another dimension
we teach without seeing the whole vision
we trust what we cannot see with our eyes
we walk on
knowing,
for sure,
we are going the right way
directed by the silence
in bright, beautiful pathways of grace
and dark, eerie forests of fog
somedays we are surrounded by fellow pilgrims, or foes, or strange bed-fellows,
other days we seem to walk alone
no matter
we walk on
or we sit and wait
relying on radical trust
we learn the virtues by living
because we have truly learned
what we could never learn
by our own understanding
faith is the victory
everything is grace
☀️
AL
life: acoustic & amplified 