life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “nature”

thank you, Mary Oliver

10

Mary Oliver reminds me
to let go of any need, that might linger within,
to, even try, to impress anyone,
least of all,
myself.
LET GO…
just stay alert to the extravagant impressiveness around me,
puddling at my feet,
drowning my life with goodness.
To be easily astonished,
easily filled with wonder,
to allow life to boggle my mind.
To stay a child of joy and nature,
a collector of abundant miracles,
never taking one of them for granted.
To stay in awe of sunsets
and dandelions,
coffee shops
and grasshoppers.
Bears and ants.
To gasp every time I get a view of the ocean,
to be breathless at the view from a mountaintop road at sunset.
To thrill when I see a  leaf change color.
To crane my neck, every single time, to catch a glimpse of sunlight on water,
and the curve of a babies cheek.
To get a chill of macabre delight
at gnarly, old toenails,
and bats hanging upside down
in a dark damp cave,
or flying around a street light as darkness falls slowly through the air.
Such things keep me alive.
These are the true riches of our living.
Extreme miracles everywhere around us.
We are here to witness,
here to share descriptions of such beauty,
even our feeble attempts are so amazing
they boggle the mind.
Thank you, Mary Oliver, for this reminder,
with your lovely vision
and every beautiful, glorious word.
We are each here to do our part,
to record our miracles
in our own way.
With our
lives,
voices,
pens,
paints,
dances,
lyrics,
artistry,
we make up this tapestry,
record the blazing glory,
of this masterpiece we live in.
We each add notes to the grand symphony of life,
no accidents,
or accidental people.
Only I can tell you the grandeur of my living space,
it is mine alone,
until I share it.
As I share,
I allow the singing of the rocks to be heard,
but also to stay a silent mystery

at least for those
who don’t choose to hear
this exquisite, out-of-this-world music,
playing with such brilliance, light and passion,
everywhere we go.

AL 8/23/13

there’s a voice that doesn’t use words. listen. – Rumi

6Infinite Presence, The Beloved, speaks,
draws the universe near with a quiet word.
Out of the heart of all things, their mysterious beauty,
the Divine radiates.

This silence is not silent,
in which God comes to us,
arrayed in the consuming flame of suns,
clothed in stormy seas of galaxies.

God summons the whole created order
to witness us hearing her voice:
“If you are in love with me,
come near.”

Creation nods, and smiles.
This is the Truth, the Source, The One.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

let us count gifts today

New Newsletter up on the website!
http://www.somgsfromthevalley.com
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We are given many gifts
over our lifetimes.
Gifts are heaped upon us.
Every day we receive.
The way we acknowledge these gifts,
the way we receive,
the counting of gifts,
awareness in each moment,
is our most important choice.
This one insight brings us life as
grace or prison.
Heaven or hell
is bound up in gratitude.
I have had many strange and wonderful gifts
received over my life,
so far,
this knowledge,
the ability to see,
to choose to see
the good in all I receive,
has been the best gift
of all.
My cup runs over.
My path is lined with diamonds.
My sky is bright with twinkling stars.

AL 7/26/1335b21034a277a5d90d8e23d892524060

just to cool down!

squirrel7783crxataIn the middle of Summer heat I find an eternal winter of coolness! haha
Love this little guy!
Preview of the amazing artist Terry Cervi featured in the upcoming August issue of Songs from the Valley Newsletter
http://www.terrycervi.com

lessons from nature

5

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry
5

Do you know what happens to wildlife when left alone from intellectual minds? It thrives, because thriving is its default setting. Just look at a forest.

And do you know what happens to wildlife when given just a little direction by intellectual minds? It still thrives, because thriving is its default setting. Just look at a rose garden.

And do you know what happens to wildlife when there is too much thinking? Yeah, what wildlife?

Wild thing,
The Universe

Notes from the Universe
http://www.tut.com/

5

You do not just happen to be here,
you have been sent.
You are intended to be here,
to convery a presence.
The land of uncertainty and the unknown,
these are your territory.
You are sent not away
but ahead.
You are accompanied,
paired with one who goes with you.
It is not your success, but your love and courage
that fulfill your purpose.
The path will need you;
the journey will create you.
What we receive compels us,
and, not alone, we go.
_____________________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

5

faith allows for grace in everything

Little Summer Poem Touching the Subject of Faith

by Mary Oliver

Every summerenjoy-every-moment
I listen and look
under the sun’s brass and even
in the moonlight, but I can’t hear

anything, I can’t see anything—
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker—
green gowns lifting up in the night,
showered with silk.

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing—
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet—
all of it
happening
beyond all seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn’s beautiful body
is sure to be there.

focus

tumblr_mis28q1Xfi1rrd8u8o1_250Messenger
by Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

Peonies by Mary Oliver

tumblr_mjm4dfxaSP1rrd8u8o1_500 This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open–
pools of lace,
white and pink–
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities–
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again–
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
tumblr_mjq8lzCXsj1rrd8u8o1_500
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

reflection day

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spring fling

In these early spring days
before their fullness
the trees have a light in their eyes,
the packed, swelling buds,
these delicate feathers and fingers,
(and the blossoms,
the crazy blossoms!)
and then the tiniest leaves,
little baby exclamation points,
raised eyebrows
freckling the changed woods.

To attain individuality
and courage and creativity
you don’t have to do some
outlandish thing.
Just let the beauty
of the Beloved
deep within
come out.

The birds
just can’t stop talking about it.

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

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