life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Growth”

sometimes


Sometimes the wind that strips everything

is the strong breathing of a yes.
The river of life wears away your little island

and bears you somewhere fertile. 
Receive the gift only departing can bestow,

the holy not in what is anointed
but in what is next,

the beginning beyond the silence beyond the end.
In thickest darkness is a door felt, not seen.

It gives. 
Beside you in confidence 

God is uncompleting the journey for you.
Lay your hand on the dark door. A voice 

says, “Come, join my becoming.”
__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


There was a definite cracking sound

It came from that place inside

Secret Deep 

Like the milky way

Or the center of the earth

Or heaven

More possibly hell 

– At least half way to one or all of those places

Like winter ice in the springtime thaw

The sound was unmistakeable

Now i feel it moving outward from that secret place

Like an inchworm 

Made of glass

Or razor blades

I wonder if half of me will 

suddenly

Melt down onto the floor

Like a bizarre murder in an action movie

Where the camera stays still

watching 

to catch

The guy who just got slashed through 

From the sword of justice

Looking normal 

for suspended moments 

Then

Slowly

The smile still on his lips

One piece slides to the floor

While the other stays upright 

To the delight 

of the eager

 bloodthirsty 

cheering 

audience

All of whom I know

🗡

AL



pieces & parts 

 

The teacher asks a question.

You know the answer, 

you suspect

you are the only one in the classroom

who knows the answer, 

because the person

in question is yourself, 

and on that

you are the greatest living authority,

but you don’t raise your hand.

You raise the top of your desk

and take out an apple.

You look out the window.

You don’t raise your hand and there is

some essential beauty in your fingers,

which aren’t even drumming,

 but lie

flat and peaceful.

🙏🏻

The Hand by Mary Ruefle

 

 I try to clean up
pick up pieces of myself

from all over the frozen ground

Who knew hearts can turn into

Slivers of glass

dangerous to handle

Slice my fingers

I rub tears from my eyes

and find toxic rivers

Red flows 

Staining all of life

Small killing shards everywhere

Thousands

Maybe millions

They stick to the inside of my chest

My throat

Puncture my lungs

Settle in my stomach 

as I try to eat breakfast 

It’s getting harder and harder to speak

To breathe

To stand

I fall face first into a pool 

Of freezing water

The glass becomes ice 

Eventually I crawl out of the water

but the ice remains 

a solid block I live with

for 9 years 

Containment my highest priority

Walking dead 

until that box breaks open

I begin to grieve

and begin slowly melting 

Fusing shattered pieces

absorbing them into 

the fabric of my living

Im still working on it

Still looking for the fire of love

to refine the gold

Scars show the hearts broken places

for glimmers of light to shine through

As grieving does it’s healing work

And I become human 

Once again

❤️

AL

   

   
  
  

 

reborned

 

The days are cold and brown,

Brown fields,  no sign of green,
Brown twigs,  not even swelling,
And dirty snow in the woods.
But as the dark flows in

The tree frogs begin

Their shrill sweet singing,

And we lie on our beds

Through the ecstatic night,

Wide awake,  cracked open. 

There will be no going back.

April in Maine by May Sarton

 

 Though I know better
the trees look dead.

Here and there a little prison 

of ice is forgiven.

Little green hands reach up through leafmold

and I can’t let go.

A door opens inside me
I didn’t know was there.

________________________

Weather Report
Possibility,

which only recently 

seems to have become possible

though it has been riding upper currents

from the other side of the world.

A clear front develops

as everything emerges from within.

Expect variable conditions,

and completely predictable

intermittent surprises.
__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

  
 It seems we have made pain 

some kind of mistake, 

like having it 

is somehow wrong. 
Don’t let them fool you— 

pain is a part of things. 
But remember, dear Ellie, 

the compost down in the field: 

if the rank and dank and dark 

are handled well, not merely discarded, 

but turned and known and honored, 

they one day come to beds of rich earth 

home even to the most delicate rose. 

🌹

selected from A Poem for My Daughter by Teddy Macker

 

 I am ready
when a voice has spoken,

a path opened its arms,

ready to resolve and to follow.

And if not I am ready to be still,

and more still yet, 

to wait,

to shed my wants and fears,

my wishes and words, and even 

the words I have for the silence

and for you, 

until not I but you speak

and I follow.

And when I have resolved,

and I am sure of myself, 

and my wishes reappear 

in the costume of devotion,

help me to return 

to be still and listen again.

Another Eve. Another Day. 

I yield to you fully,

and ask you only 

to help me to return

and to return

and to return,

to be still and ready

each day. 

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

2…the space between  

 

 “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

  

black n white

 

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

layer upon layer

 

 
I was born out of love and with a purpose unknown to me then, but revealed to me one day at a time.

☀️

 Today by Walter Dunlevy

  
This world doesn’t improve by demanding perfection. It improves when we reach through our armor and touch another with tenderness. It improves when we bust through the walls of our conditioning, and try a new way of being on for size. It improves when we work through our unresolved shadow and share what little light we can find. It is the small, positive steps that we take when we are at war with ourselves that change the world.

☀️

   – Jeff Brown 

  

awe…
examination…
it keeps appearing…
again…
I delete…
again…
I delete…
haven’t I already written this poem?
haven’t I already done that one?
What is left that I haven’t taken out?
haven’t examined properly?
There are always layers…
As Shrek reminds me…
I am an onion…
layers…
illusions…
shadows…
truth left to excavate…
healing to be won…
motivations to uncover…
mystery to be discovered…
always more!
God keeps getting bigger…

and bigger…
as I examine…
reduce…
open…
help me to stay in this mode of self realization…
growth…
humble me…
my best self emerges within this process…
send it again…
remind me again…

💞

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

keep building  

  
Mark Nepo tells us to, 

‘put down what doesn’t work – 

so that we can find what is sacred’. 
What worked so well yesterday, 

may not work today. 

We wear out our structures of known truth, 

the frameworks of what we use for living,

for healing. 

Let them go,

trust in the new architecture – 

modern, 

with our personal, classic twist. 

We are always becoming. 

Watch for the signs of structural failure, 

build the new bridge, 

delight in this magnificent design,

those amazing cranes hanging in mid-air,

strong, foundational columns,

the rusty, hard rebar of our personal growth,

rising from deep within the waters muddy bottom, 

creating the new skyline of your life, 

welcome this new place of crossing. 

It can handle rush hour,

or heavy foot-traffic. 

Continue the build, 

always creating with the future in mind,

before the old fully implodes underneath our feet. 

🏗
AL
 
  

 

now open

  
You must give birth to your images.

They are the future waiting to be born.

Fear not the strangeness you feel.

The future must enter you, long before it happens.

Just wait for the birth,

for the hour of new clarity.

🌀
– Rainer Maria Rilke

 

Today is my friend, writer, fellow spirit seeker, Donna Knutson’s birthday!! Wishing her happy today and every day! 

Sharing and loving her beautiful thoughts and words describing the lovely world event of her time here:
When 58 is Almost Gone and 59 Flowers Are Coming on Strong 

Purple Iris …I let things die, and filled in holes…watered children and sappy songs.

Ranted about the radiance of Angels and cardboard boxes filled with 36 years of married love…

I chopped up word search puzzles because there is passion and paradox in loving words that heal, instead of hate…then tied them on a string, like prayer flags blowing through the bedroom in a February wind.  

I wrote Voice with purple pen on a hundred sheets of silk like paper, folded them in drawers and placed them near the windows, so the morning sun could warm their chords and prepare the world for what sound would come that day.

I angled photos and trinkets from baskets, memorizing short periods of my day where love was the only witness to my growing , to fading a bit more like Autumn, then into a bright summers sunset spoken softly now, rose colored, like winter…

Family and friendships took in artists and dreamers…wedding vows that added deeper love to our days…heart shaped rocks in tiny boxes on tables to say we belong to one another…and children that grow into wonderful stories of every lasting love…

It was August before I blew kisses to the toddlers playing in a nearby gym, their jumping and fantasies whirling with my inner child, shaking fingers and toes, while hopping through a hundred thresholds, finding keys to a million doors…

I taught class while learning the heart of acceptance, forgiveness, fables and follies…how one can know absolutely nothing, and everything one needs to know…to be a water-bearer flowing…to kneel while pouring…to bend at just the right moment, to wash a glass, dimly lit…

I fought a concrete city with a magical jungle holding religions and relationships…forgave myself for not knowing how long I had been loved and known…how one gift could change it all…found sacred ground under a community with feet. Dancers who know how to move to a rhythm and a beat…

God speaking Yes, porous and free …a mystical thread sewn into the bone of the body, 

A year like no other…just beginning to gather purple Iris for another…

Beauty,

Donna 

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

fall down 7 times, get up 8 

 

There is a path we all walk in life. All the places we go when the path gets too rocky and exhausting and brutal and beautiful are dead-end detours. If you take these detours you are not bad, but you are wasting your time and energy.

The path looks like this:
Come back to the path.

There’s no other way.

You will never find your perfect life “balance” on the path for the same reason you will never find a unicorn on the path – because these things don’t exist. Forget unicorns and balance. If you were perfectly balanced, you’d never have to take anyone’s hand to steady yourself, and that would be a tragedy.

There is no solid ground on the path — so don’t hold your breath till you find it. Breathe deeply and keep moving forward awkwardly. You can make it down the whole path imbalanced and flailing. When you fall, give thanks for the opportunity to rest. While you’re down, send love to every other path walker who’s down with you at that moment.

Then get back up.

Or crawl. Crawling is encouraged and respected. Path running is fine, but crawling is much better. Crawlers travel with their eyes close to the ground — so they never miss an inch of the beautiful, rocky path. Crawlers get less glory but learn the most about the path’s terrain. 

And know your fellow travelers are both your teachers and students. Your relationships with them will be the hardest part of path walking. To avoid humbling oneself into the role of student and having the courage to position oneself into the role of teacher — many try to walk the path alone.

But the path was not designed for solo treks.

The path was designed to teach Love. Whenever you introduce your true self to a fellow path traveler and listen and speak and learn and stay with her for a while – that is called Love. Walking with and staying with messy fellow path travelers for any length of time is Love. Love is the most brutal and beautiful part of path traveling. Participate. Learn from and teach every path traveler you encounter. Exchanging love with fellow path travelers is how we gather the wisdom and strength we’ll need to overcome the next obstacle on our path.

Note: You do not teach by teaching — you teach by loving. Be humble and courageous.

You always have enough strength.

And courage and wisdom. You always have exactly what you need for your daily trek. Sometimes you won’t believe this, because you will encounter stretches of the path that are treacherous and terrifying, but if you give up in the middle of those stretches — if you sit down permanently in them — then you have to live there. Don’t live in the dark, scary parts. Trust and keep moving. There will be a clearing soon and you will feel the warm sun again.

The One who created your path is outside of time, so your life is an epic movie that has already been scripted. So don’t plan or worry — your job is to trust your path and participate fully and notice as much as you possibly can and keep on moving.

But don’t become proud or ashamed.

Don’t become proud that you are further along than many travelers or ashamed that you are far behind others. Your position on the path relative to other travelers has nothing to do with your strength or stamina or wisdom or cunning. We are all in different places because we all have different entry points to the path.

Where you are and where everyone else is along the path is none of your concern or business.

Let that go.

You are exactly where you are supposed to be, always, and so is everyone else. The portion of the path you wake up to today was written for you. 
Everyone is exactly where he or she is supposed to be. You are not your own or anyone else’s path-planner. You are just a traveler. You just keep moving. Trust the Path. Follow in the footsteps of a billion other mighty travelers who have walked and run and crawled the path before you.

Fear not. And carry on, warrior.

🛤

you’re on by Glennon Doyle Melton

on Donald Miller StoryLine Blog http://storylineblog.com/2016/01/26/make-the-most-of-the-path-youre-on/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=facebook_page&utm_medium=Donald%20Miller&utm_content=Make%20the%20Most%20of%20the%20Path%20You’re%20On

    

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

everyday hero

  
Quote of the Day: Virtue 
Next to the seven deadly sins, the seven cardinal virtues are apt to look pale and unenterprising, but appearances are notoriously untrustworthy.
Prudence and temperance, taken separately, may not be apt to get you to your feet cheering, but when they go together, as they almost always do, that’s a different matter. The chain smoker or the junkie, for instance, who exemplifies both by managing to kick the habit, can very well have you throwing your hat in the air, especially if it happens to be somebody whom for personal reasons you’d like to have around a few years longer. And the courage involved isn’t likely to leave you cold either. Often it’s the habit kicker’s variety that seems the most courageous.
If you think of justice as sitting blindfolded with a scale in her hand, you may have to stifle a yawn, but if you think of a black judge acquitting a white racist of a false murder charge, it can give you gooseflesh.
The faith of a child taking your hand in the night is as moving as the faith of Mother Teresa among the untouchables, or Bernadette facing the skeptics at Lourdes, or Abraham, age seventy-five, packing up his bags for the Promised Land. And hope is the glimmer on the horizon that keeps faith plugging forward, of course, the wings that keep it more or less in the air.
Maybe it’s only love that turns things around and makes the seven deadly sins be the ones to look pale and unenterprising for a change. Greed, gluttony, lust, envy, and pride are no more than sad efforts to fill the empty place where love belongs, and anger and sloth just two things that may happen when you find that not even all seven of them at their deadliest ever can.

 ⚜

~ Frederick Bruechner originally published in Whistling in the Dark and later in Beyond Words

 

   

 

  

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

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