life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “perceptions”

hearing

  

Now I understand that there are two melodies playing,

one below the other, one easier to hear, the other
lower, steady, perhaps more faithful for being less heard

yet always present.
When all other things seem lively and real,

this one fades. Yet the notes of it
touch as gently as fingertips, as the sound

of the names laid over each child at birth.
I want to stay in that music without striving or cover.

If the truth of our lives is what it is playing,
the telling is so soft

that this mortal time, this irrevocable change,
becomes beautiful. I stop and stop again

to hear the second music.
I hear the children in the yard, a train, then birds.

All this is in it and will be gone. I set my ear to it as I would to a heart.

🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢🎢

The Second Music by Annie Lighthart 

 
🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼

In every instant, two gates.

One opens to fragrant paradise, one to hell.

Mostly we go through neither.
Mostly we nod to our neighbor,

lean down to pick up the paper,

go back into the house.
But the faint criesβ€”ecstasy? horror?

Or did you think it the sound

of distant bees,

making only the thick honey of this good life?

 Listen to Norah Jones sing One Flight Down http://youtu.be/56RJ0AKtpv0

🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡🎡

photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513

 

 

what are you looking for?Β 

When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us. There are people who see only dullness in the world and that is because their eyes have already been dulled. So much depends on how we look at things. The quality of our looking determines what we come to see.     – John O’Donohue

 
  

  

   

  

  

 

  

Listen to Jason Mraz sing I’m Yours http://youtu.be/wIFh9hYongk

quote photo sources found at www.pinterest.com/al513 

spaces for re-defining moreΒ 

  

 
 

   

 

New beginnings. Springtime joy. Spaces opening. Baggage shedding. Words healing. 

 The future’s so bright…

http://youtu.be/gRh4-czxbT0

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

photo sources found at 

www.pinterest.com/al513

we’re all just ex-babies! embrace it!

IMG_4912
…everyone is involved, whether they like it or not, in the construction of their world. So, it’s never as given as it actually looks; you are always shaping it and building it. And I feel that from that perspective, that each of us is an artist. Secondly, I believe that everyone has imagination. That no matter how mature and adult and sophisticated a person might seem, that person is still essentially an ex-baby. And as children, we all lived in an imaginal world. You know, when you’ve been told don’t cross that wall, because there’s monsters over there, my god, the world you would create on the other side of the wall.
– John O’Donohue
http://www.onbeing.org/program/inner-landscape-beauty/transcript/1125

IMG_6365
King Lear
THERE WOULD BE a strong argument for saying that much of the most powerful preaching of our time is the preaching of the poets, playwrights, novelists because it is often they better than the rest of us who speak with awful honesty about the absence of God in the world and about the storm of his absence, both without and within, which, because it is unendurable, unlivable, drives us to look to the eye of the storm. I think of King Lear especially with its tragic vision of a world in which the good and the bad alike go down to dusty and, it would seem, equally meaningless death with no God to intervene on their behalf, and yet with its vision of a world in which the naked and helpless ones, the victims and fools, become at least truly alive before they die and thus touch however briefly on something that lies beyond the power of death. It is the worldly ones, the ones wise as the world understands wisdom and strong in the way the world understands strength, who are utterly doomed. This is so much the central paradox of Lear that the whole play can be read as a gloss if not a homily on that passage in First Corinthians where Paul expresses the same paradox in almost the same terms by writing, “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise. God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong. God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are” (1 Corinthians 1:27-28), thus pointing as Shakespeare points to the apparent emptiness of the world where God belongs and to how the emptiness starts to echo like an empty shell after a while until you can hear in it the still, small voice of the sea, hear strength in weakness, victory in defeat, presence in absence.
I think of Dostoevski in The Brothers Karamazov when the body of Alyosha’s beloved Father Zossima begins to stink in death instead of giving off fragrance as the dead body of a saint is supposed to, and at the very moment where Alyosha sees the world most abandoned by God, he suddenly finds the world so aflame with God that he rushes out of the chapel where the body lies and kisses the earth as the shaggy face of the world where God, in spite of and in the midst of everything, is.
-Originally published in Telling The Truth
http://m.frederickbuechner.com/

IMG_6431
photo source tracks found at

Overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. – Jonathan Livingston Seagull

2015/01/img_4379.jpg
I never will have time
I never will have time enough
To say
How beautiful it is
The way the moon
Floats in the air
As easily
And lightly as a bird
Although she is a world
Made all of stone.

I never will have time enough
To praise
The way the stars
Hang glittering in the dark
Of steepest heaven
Their dewy sparks
Their brimming drops of light
So fresh so clear
That when you look at them
It quenches thirst.

Looking at the Sky by Anne Porter
2015/01/img_2204.jpg

2015/01/img_5352.jpg

2015/01/img_5453.jpg

gratitude

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2015/01/img_5553.jpg
miracles. everyday,
floods of riches,
handfuls of Jewels ,
purest gold and silver,
pour through my hands
all around me
I ask. I receive.
I seek. I am given.
I knock. and gain entrance to the magical kingdom.
invisible. appears. visible.
I begin to write on blank sheets of paper. Poems appear.
I take a step. The hidden way opens and I find a path prepared.
I open my heart and mouth. Ripe music, melodies erupt in time and space.
I breathe in perfume of fresh air and flowers fill my being.
I breathe out and trees greet me with waving branches of thanks.
My way is effortless. Life flows easily with all this vast abundance.
These miracles go on and on. Every minute. Every day.
I am in awe. I smile.
I am here. I am full.

ACL 1/2/15

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2015/01/img_5462.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2015/01/img_5449.jpg

the space between

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_5190.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_5199.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_5198.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_5186.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_5184.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_4943.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_4191.jpg

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/ed9/21335673/files/2014/12/img_4205.jpg

beautiful perspective

IMG_3796.JPG
Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world anymore. There is always something to make you wonder in the shape of a tree, the trembling of a leaf. –Albert Schweitzer

IMG_3598.JPG

IMG_3728.JPG

IMG_3749.JPG

IMG_3413.JPG

IMG_3788.JPG

IMG_3654.JPG

IMG_3810.JPG

IMG_3804.JPG

IMG_3531.JPG
Photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT

joy comes

IMG_2991-0.JPG

IMG_2980.JPG

IMG_2974-0.JPG

IMG_2971.JPG

awareness changes everything

IMG_2540.JPG
No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.

The Inner History of a Day by John O’Donohue

IMG_2421.JPG

Post Navigation