life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Miracles”

I am fascinated by bold individualism       – Charles Cooper (meee tooooo!!!❤️)


dark matter sutra

.

last nite in the dark sky

a fox was calling

this eerie voice scathing scratching the air 

scaring every living thing around

straight out of a horror movie or worst 

some scary witch after me

 for all my past sins and debauchery 

I was ready to lock the doors

grab a pitch fork

throw the covers over my head

.

who knows really what a fox really is

maybe a prisoner in a fur body

trying to get out

some convict from a strange distant galaxy

“ .. and for your crimes against humanity

we shall set you on another world

known as earth

in strange body

with strange bedfellows

 whizzing bullets

and hungry wolves”

.

no matter what religion or science says 

you never really know

who or what is in these other bodies

each of us stardust 

catapulted from the infinite womb 

dark matter given form

like blue hanuman

or immortal sunlight

.

I will call out to you from the wilderness

a purple cloud in a wide room

a child with a halo

a bed of moss

or some eagle soaring above the plane

in a total act of rebellion 

from his dark matter sutra 

.

.

.

Adam DeFranco (c) 2016


NO PATH
‘There is No Path that Goes all the Way’

:-Han Shan
Not that it stops us looking 

for the full continuation. 
The one line in the poem 

we can start and follow

 

straight to the end. The fixed belief 

we can hold, facing a stranger 
that saves us the trouble 

of a real conversation. 
But one day you are not

just imagining an empty chair 
where your loved one sat. 

You are not just telling a story 
where the bridge is down 

and there’s nowhere to cross. 
You are not just trying to pray 

to a God you always imagined 

would keep you safe. 
No, you’ve come to a place 

where nothing you’ve done

 

will impress and nothing you 

can promise will avert 
the silent confrontation, 

the place where

 

your body already seems to know 

the way, having kept 
to the last, its own secret 

reconnaissance. 
But still, 

there is no path 

that goes all the way,
one conversation 

leads to another,
one breath to the next 

until
there’s no breath at all,

just

 

the inevitable 

final release

of the burden.
And then,

wouldn’t your life 

have to start

all over again

for you to know

even a little

of who you had been?

Excerpt from ‘NO PATH”

From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems by David Whyte


return to your own path

love leads us ever onward

to the open skies of freedom

❤️

AL


photo sources @www.pinterest.com

a toast! 


Presence is the leaven that makes earth rise. 

We knead this loaf by walking gently,

honoring ecstatic raspberries 

that tumble through the crippled zero 

of a junked tire,
peaches fallen into putrefying splendor,

lightning of naked twigs on Autumn sky,

hieroglyphs that signify how jaggedness 

resolves into awakened space. 
This isn’t just pretend, it’s how

Christ beholds the lilies…

Let that eye of kindness lead you

back to the vulva where your clan emerged,
womb-amber chaos all our dreams 

entangle in, the quintessential element 

of seeing, where we suck

the nipple of original otherness. 
After love making, some mother

must have swept our ashes up

in the wake of her heartbeat 
where we could smell the mulch

of opposites, the musk of the dead

in a bundle of throw-out hyacinths. 
We tasted rubies and moonlight,

the bitter yeast on golden grapes

un-gleaned at vineyards edge,

first fruits for homeless strangers,

those lovers of losing their way…
from the heat of the composted loss

the packed blackness of our sorrow

suddenly sprouts bejeweled graces. 
I’m still stumbling home from that

first fragrance, friend. 

You’re not as drunk as I am yet,

but you’ll get there, you’ll get there. 

🍷

Leaven by Alfred K. LaMotte



love warriors walk through this world

love dripping from open hands

falling onto shattered pieces of the broken 

staining bits of the kaleidoscope of hurting hearts

stepping carefully

yet confidently 

slowing down

pouring out what is so needed

brutally defending tenderness

as the ones who have forgotten to know

appear to do battle…

fearful, hardened, defense

not knowing what they have forgotten…

oh, dearest, please wake up,

please allow yourself to remember

we are all the light

we are each the beloved

please let me hold you

touch those wounded places

touch your face

breathe your soul into mine

until we are completely one

rub love on your sore spots

until you remember

what you already know

stay here with me 

for a long long while

let’s walk together

talk about all this beauty

connecting 

hands

hearts

love

ah yes

love

as we go forward 

allowing this drip to become 

a pour

a fountain 

a river

an ocean

the very universe

let’s dream together

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

living this exquisite ecstasy

drunk on the love brew

only we

can create

together 

🍾

AL


The Love of the Soul wells up within my heart; and understanding, pity, love and self-forgetfulness arise. I carry love to all I meet. I meet men’s love with love and remember not myself.

——–

Discipleship in the New Age I

Alice A. Bailey

Page 176

The Tibetan D.K.


There is a community of the spirit.

Join it, and feel the delight

of walking in the noisy street

and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,

and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes

to see with the other eye.
Open your hands,

if you want to be held.
Sit down in this circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel

the shepherd’s love filling you.
At night, your beloved wanders.

Don’t accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.

Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.
You moan, “She left me.” “He left me.”

Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.

Think of who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison

when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.

Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always

widening rings of being.

🍥

A Community of the Spirit by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi

if you look for me…


Nature, 

my teacher

my school

my temple

my shed

my friend

my lover

my passion

my peace

my darkness

my shining

my opening

my knowledge 

my quests

my mystery

my luminosity

my path

my return

my budding

my harvest

my seasons

my eternal 

my connection 

my uniqueness

my blush

my beauty

my ravaging

my savaging

my circle

my arrow

my path

my journey 

my longing

my desire

my tryst

my trust

my hope

my haven

my safety 

my risk

my skip-itty-doo-dah

the hair on my chinny-chin-chin

my space

my intimacy

my solitude

my family

my found

my faith

my dancing

my lame

my music

my words

my rhythm 

my song

my vision

my sight

my lost

my found

my sin

my soul

my tears

my laughter

my being

my belonging

my life 

my love

my looking in

my letting go

my begging

my abundance

my start

my stop

my end

my beginning

my heart

my skin

my senses

my fences

my flash 

my fire

my living

my death

my creator

my Spirit

my wound

my healer

my receiver

my giver

my adventure 

my wild

my silence

my sound

my doo-be-doobie-do

my fa-la-la-la

my going

my coming

my heaven 

my home

my ashes

my resurrection 

my grounding

my wings

my births

my deaths

my everything 

🌸🌻🌺🌾🌷🌹

AL


photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT


in the heart of the yellow sun

the great current

the blinding white stars 

over a blue sheet

.

when this age has passed

and thunder rolled back its 

ringing flames

nestled in the high pines                 

of course these wild atoms of your heart

.

swallowed by the great current

the burning wings

the wedding at cana

and so it happens

to each and all

water to wine

flesh to light

.

it is summer now

in the skies long house

a rib cage of heat and fragrance

surrounded by 5000

your a lifted fish 

or a loaf

in the hands of christ

.

it is no wonder now

you are surrounded 

by immigrants and thresholds

 as vulnerable as dew

 in a field of fire

.

it is useless now 

to utter

the unsayable

why would you want to burn redemption

when the whole world is an open secret

totally lifted 

and out of proportion

🌞
Adam A DeFranco

thanks-living    


From this bench 

I can see four Miles

I have walked Miles ahead with each

two have shared 

this very spot with me

in flesh and bone

two have been here in the spirit

of friends benches

and Anam Cara soul connection 

Miles

and 

Miles

and

Miles

a dog named Miles –

and many the Miles

to come –

each of my Miles inform my living

have had vast impact 

in my heart 

Letting go is my continual lifework

surrender my career

I’ve let go of everyone,

everything,

I’ve ever loved. 

I carry them,

green, rooted trees,

within me. 

I am done with questions,

I am committed to this process of my becoming. 

I am a force of the nature of love. 

I have no regrets,

no demands. 

I fly with the seagulls,

bend low before the burning bushes,

I sit in the holy hush of the Sound of silence,

letting go,

seeking new understanding. 

the deep places within me

give thanks for each piece of love I have experienced,

The blue sky shouts out to me 

all that is coming…

the best is always yet to be,

Yes, coming to me and through me,

as I break the newly discovered 

hardened edges of my heart

to allow 

freedom

for you

and 

me

💜

AL



page turner   


A hill or edge or precipice,

horizon out and mystery

above, beneath, within.
Departure, limen: driveway,

pier, or gate, or aisle,

a road; and a goodbye.
A parting; sorrow, mostly

masked, and wonder.

Fear of what is next.
Riven wide enough for light,

made empty space enough 

for pouring in of this:
a breathing— listen— low,

a hope, a vision, passion, 

story told and still unfolding,
woven in your bones and 

pouring through your veins,

and every other soul.
In all those faces, rapt

or gaping, still unknowing,

God has set a flame
not yet but soon to burst,

to shine, to speak. That’s why

Christ came, and came again: 
to breathe it back into us. All

the love of God is there, now,

in your hands, your wanting hands.
The space awaits. The silence 

breathes. The road an arm, a hand.

Begin. 

__________________  

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


Strange to realize 

on our very worst day of life

someone else is having their very best. 

Every death 

is countered with birth. 

Every grieving tear 

with belly laughter.

On the night we see the stars fall

the sun is rising on the other side of the world. 

The human spirit cannot be conquered

we rise again with each fall,

else we do not rise at all,

and come to the end,

which is another new beginning. 

Tides come in

as tides go out. 

With every broken heart

there is an answering new moment of love. 

For every first kiss 

a final slamming of the door – 

figuratively or literally. 

For every threshold we cross

we must cross again in a new moment. 

We each have moments of glory 

moments of defeat. 

Worry is the paper tiger 

which strips our moments of joy. 

Illusions of control hide behind our eyes

always revealed to be a waste of our precious resources. 

There is a time for every season. 

In all we are to bring the sacrifice of praise. 

It is the amazing hat-trick to the healing of our wounds 

that in every single circumstance 

we stand in the truth of that moment

and we give thanks,

or curse the darkness. 

Our choices lead us ever onward

toward the life

we will leave behind,

life happens while we make plans,

all we have slips daily through our hands. 

What will we do with your extraordinary, astonishing gift?

🖐🏼

AL


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

stillpoint


Psalm of the Threshold
Eternal One, I praise you on this threshold;

         the door opening is to you.

Under your eye I pack my belongings;

         in your arms I move to a new place.
By your Spirit guide my hand

         to take only what you give me

         and leave the rest;

to bring with me what is truly need

         and leave behind what is unneeded.

Give me faith to trust 

         what cannot be left behind,

and to release what I thought was part of me

         but was only the leaves of a season.

Give me grace to say goodbye

         even to myself

and turn and welcome the new day,

         even in my own soul.
God of time and story,

         may I ever dwell on thresholds,

between then and not yet,

         in the present, moving.

By your grace open doors;

         by your grace lead me through them.

For every door is your eye

         and every path is the palm of your hand.

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net

so I stand at the threshold 

of everything new

looking for the key

to the open front door

I stand at the edge 

of all that I am

wanting what could be

instead of what is

afraid of not knowing

yet knowing I know

cause I’ll never walk alone

The best is yet to come

🚪

AL


I will not die an unlived life. 

I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days, 

to allow my living to open me, 

to make me less afraid, 

more accessible, 

to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, 

a torch, 

a promise.

 I choose to risk my significance; 

to live 

so that which came to me as a seed

 goes to the next as a blossom 

and that which came to me as a blossom, 

goes on as fruit.

🍇🍎🍏🍊🌽🍒🍓🍋🍉🍑

Dawna Markova


we are forces of nature    









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


“Even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me” (Psalm 139:10).

 

You look for Me. But you don’t need to look far.
Oh, trust Me. Trust Me: when I say I am with you, nothing can separate you from my love. This is true.
Come deeper.
Drink of these roots that do more than sustain. Yes, they hold you up. Yes, they let you reach high, to a new place, with Me. Yes, they give you courage, knowing you are held, knowing you will not topple. The stream that nourishes you will never run dry.
You do not do the planting in the best soil. That is for Me to do. You do not decide the weather—whether the sun will shine or rain will fall. You do not know when storms will bend your branches, the wind whipping off your leaves. You do not know when a branch will need to be cut, a root adjusted, fertilizer poured in and mixed with rich soil.
I am the one who cares for you, my love. I am the one who bends low, my hand upon you, my breath the sweet aroma of your soul.
Come, child. I take your concerns. I’ve got you.
I’ve got you.
I see you and care for you. You are growing.
You are becoming more and more yourself.
Oh, how I love to tend to you and be with you! You are the one for whom I bend low and you see Me.
I am so close.

💞

Loop

http://www.gatherministries.com/loop



photos found on Facebook/jeff brown

nothing is more powerful than beauty in a wicked world…     – Amos Lee    


I asked the earth, I asked the sea and the deeps, among the living animals, and things that creep. I asked the winds that blow, I asked the heavens, the sun, the moon, the stars, and to all things that stand at the doors of my flesh…My question was the gaze I turned to them. Their answer was their beauty. 

   – St Augustine


Lovers find secret places inside this violent world
Where they make transactions with beauty. – Rumi

Close your eyes. 
Fall in love. 
Stay there. 
                       – Rumi

We live, shields up,
prepared for battle,
expecting war. 
We harden ourselves, 
with the best of intentions. 
Our best defense is protective prevarication. 
Our best offense is distracting laughter. 
Violence becomes a way of life. 
Tenderness becomes a thing we try to remove from our children 
as early as possible. 
We think we know this – 
if we can control the carnage, 
if we don’t allow our weaknesses to drag behind us
like toilet paper stuck to our shoe, 
No vulnerabilities allowed to peak out like saggy undergarments. 
No imperfections leaking out of our ears or fingertips,
we’ll win.  
We got this. 
We set life up without possibility of change,
without allowing any new circumstances to come to us…

then love comes 
with it’s un-understandable mystery 
and finds us not ready. 
Who could ever be ready for this?
then we seek places,
benches, beaches, back seats…
places to share with the other. 
unexpected moments of joy and connection 
find us at newly found secret spots
where shields are lowered,
vulnerability given,  
tenderness ruthlessly
invades the moment
and beauty is transacted. 
soul’s mingle,
hands touch. 
Life gets messy and wet. 
Car windows steam up on drizzly mornings
as love comes peeking through
working to melt stony hearts,
to return us to joyful living 
these are the moments life was made for,
two souls torn from the same clay,
loving each other for a million years and more,
suddenly find each other within the same moment,
and it takes our breath away. 

or 

we build an igloo 

and refuse the gift. 

It’s always our choice. 

❤️💔

AL





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

I see you


A woman in the city, who was a sinner,

stood behind him at his feet, weeping,

and began to bathe his feet with her tears….

He said, “Do you see this woman?”

—Luke 7.37, 44

……………………..
No, we do not see.

To one of Jesus’ most arresting questions,

we have to answer: we don’t see her.

We see our prejudices and stereotypes. W

e see our fears and projections.

We don’t see this woman;

we see what we think of her.

We see a sinner.

We see someone disrupting our dinner.

We see someone who makes us uncomfortable.

Which is to say, we see our judgment,

our expectations,

our discomfort.

We see our own stuff.

We don’t see her.
But Jesus saw this woman,

really saw her.

He saw her pain and her strength,

her gratitude, her courage,

her transformation.

He saw the precious value of her gift.

He saw her soul at work.

He saw God’s grace in her.
Jesus really saw people.

He saw who they were and knew their story,

not because he had ESP

but because he paid attention.

The woman at the well,

the bent over woman,

the rich man,

Bartimaeus,

the woman who touched him in a crowd…

he really saw people because he wanted to. He

paid attention.

And there was healing in his seeing.

What he saw in people was not their flaws

but the mercy of God.

And seeing the grace was like sunlight on plants:

it made people heal and grow and bear fruit.
God, help me really see.

Help me set aside my feelings and judgments,

and see whole people,

your beloved,

precious souls.

Help me see myself:

help me notice my projections,

and name my fears and expectations;

help me confess my blinders

and set them aside so I can see.

Beloved, help me really see people,

really see your grace,

really see at all.

Beloved, I want to see.

 

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net



At dusk, by the irrigation ditch

gurgling past backyards near the highway,

locusts raise a maze of calls in cottonwoods.

A Spanish girl in a white party dress
s

trolls the levee by the muddy water

where her small sister plunks in stones.

Beyond a low adobe wall and a wrecked car

men are pitching horseshoes in a dusty lot.

Someone shouts as he clangs in a ringer.

Big winds buffet in ahead of a storm,

rocking the immense trees and whipping up

clouds of dust, wild leaves, and cottonwool.

In the moment when the locusts pause and the girl

presses her up-fluttering dress to her bony knees

you can hear a banjo, guitar, and fiddle

playing “The Mississippi Sawyer” inside a shack.

Moments like that, you can love this country.

—–
“Passing through Albuquerque” by John Balaban


I wanna take this moment to look into your eyes.
Linger there with courage, allow your soul to rise
Feel your loving spirit
Touch your hidden dreams.
Let you know you’re not alone

that you’re finally seen…

Now’s there’s one less stranger in the world.

One less lonely heart in the night.

Lift your eyes and look at me

now there’s one less stranger in the world.

If you speak right from your heart
and let me do the same
If you allow my point of view
As we grow and change
If we both ask questions
to answers we seek
Then just sit in silence
allow our hearts to speak….

There’d be one less stranger in the world.
One less lonely heart in the night.
Lift your eyes and look at me
now there’s one less stranger in the world.

💑

AL


TRUE LONGING 


When you forget or repress the truth and depth of your invisible belonging and decide to belong to some system, person, or project, you short-circuit your longing and squander your identity. To have true integrity, poise, and courage is to be attuned to the silent and invisible nature within you. Real maturity is the integrity of inhabiting that “immortal longing” that always calls you to new horizons. Your true longing is to belong to the eternal that echoes continually in everything that happens to you. Real power has nothing to do with force, control, status, or money. Real power is the persistent courage to be at ease with the unsolved and the unfinished. To be able to recognize, in the scattered graffiti of your desires, the signature of the eternal.  

💞

John O’Donohue 

Excerpt from ETERNAL ECHOES


TOUCH is what we desire in one form or another, even if we find it through being alone, through the agency of silence or through the felt need to walk at a distance: the meeting with something or someone other than ourselves, the light brush of grass on the skin, the ruffling breeze, the actual touch of another’s hand; even the gentle first touch of an understanding which until now, we were formally afraid to hold.
Whether we touch only what we see or the mystery of what lies beneath the veil of what we see, we are made for unending meeting and exchange, while having to hold a coherent mind and body, physically or imaginatively, which in turn can be found and touched itself. We are something for the world to run up against and rub up against: through the trials of love, through pain, through happiness, through our simple everyday movement through the world.
And the world touches us in many ways, some of which are violations of the body or our hopes for safety: through natural disaster, through heartbreak, through illness, through death itself. In the ancient world the touch of a God was seen as both a blessing and a violation – at one and the same time. Being alive in the world means being found by the world and sometimes touched to the core in ways we would rather not experience. 
Growing with our bodies, all of us find ourselves at one time violated or wounded by this world in difficult ways, and still we live and breathe in this touchable, sensual world, and through trauma, through grief, through recovery, we heal in order to be touched again in the right way, as the physical consecration of a mutual, trusted invitation.
Nothing stops the body’s arrival in each new present, except death itself, which is intuited in all cultures as another, ultimate, intimate form of meeting. Nothing stops our ageing nor our witness to time, asking us again and again to be present to each different present, to be touchable and findable, to be one who is living up to the very fierce consequences of being bodily present in the world.
To forge an untouchable, invulnerable identity is actually a sign of retreat from this world; of weakness, a sign of fear rather than strength, and betrays a strange misunderstanding of an abiding, foundational and necessary reality: that untouched, we disappear.

Excerpted from ‘TOUCH’ From 

CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment 

and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. by David Whyte


let’s do something new
me and you
let’s travel uncharted territory 
make new maps of all we find

let’s create a new heaven
and a new earth
just by touching each other’s souls
tracing hearts around each other’s scars

being kind to one another

let’s do something extraordinary 
something spectacular 
 something world changing
something wild

let’s create a brand new star
just by loving each other
so completely 
it starts a supernova of epic proportion

let’s do something fun
something we can laugh at forever
something to bring joy into the room
peace into this broken world

💞

AL

Things take their own time. The seeds planted do not sprout the next day, but that does not mean they never will. Be patient. Your life only gets better when you do. Work on yourself and the rest will follow. You will bloom to the person you were always meant to BE. — Unknown

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