life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Relationships”

Recognize what is before your eyes, and what is hidden will be revealed to you. – The Gospel of Thomas

IMG_6862
Do you have hope for the future?
someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.
Yes, and even for the past, he replied,
that it will turn out to have been all right
for what it was, something we can accept,
mistakes made by the selves we had to be,
not able to be, perhaps, what we wished,
or what looking back half the time it seems
we could so easily have been, or ought…
The future, yes, and even for the past,
that it will become something we can bear.
And I too, and my children, so I hope,
will recall as not too heavy the tug
of those albatrosses I sadly placed
upon their tender necks. Hope for the past,
yes, old Frost, your words provide that courage,
and it brings strange peace that itself passes
into past, easier to bear because
you said it, rather casually, as snow
went on falling in Vermont years ago.

Thanks, Robert Frost by David Ray

IMG_6809
Spirit,
drive me out
into my solitude,
my desolations,
my discomfort.

Set me down
among the wild beasts,
fears and hungers
pawing around inside me.

Put me at peace with them,
not the master but the saved,
the one to be tamed,
to listen to them,
lie down among them,
and go my way,
returned
to my feral innocence.

They will roam my wilderness,
I will learn their eyes,
I will live differently.

Among them,
who also answer,
are angels who attend
to those who wander there
so that we will.
_________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

IMG_6850

photo source tracks found at

boundary lines and hard lessons

IMG_6896

IMG_6894

IMG_6897
Shrive: to hear a confession;
to impose penance; to grant absolution.

Shrove Tuesday, our fifth snowstorm
in as many weeks.
In three feet of snow,
plowed shoulder deep beside the roads,
along the driveways,
we confess that we are human,
that we are weary,
the streets lined with quadriplegic cars,
that we are small, dependent, fragile.
The knife wind comes down on us
where we are tender.
We confess our bondage
to the narrow paths we’ve dug,
and keep digging.
Winter swallows our voices, erases speech;
our chanting shovels confess
we are not masters.
The silver sun hears us,
assures us straightening between shovelfuls
that we are not evil,
merely afraid,
and notes how much of our snow
is now in our neighbor’s driveway.
The strangeness so oddly transforming our streets,
the need, the hardship
tempt us inward, swirling winds,
but beckon us to reconcile, to accept,
to bond, to help.
We shovel toward each other.
The crow and the fox
who also shiver bear our absolution:
we too belong, and carry out penance
for being human
in labor and toil.
Shriven under mounds of baptismal white,
we are not judged.
This is not punishment,
just life,
that we must shovel.

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

photo source tracks found at

dance with me

IMG_5243
Can I show you where we can go together? Can I dance with you, grab hold of your hand, my fingers clasped around your palm? You are graceful when you dance with me. You are free, your steps light and sure. You plant each foot firmly into soil. You know this ground, this earth. The floor is level and you respond, fully, to my subtle hints at what will be the next move to make.

You trust Me. You know Me. You want to be with Me. You know who you are and your burden is light and your smile is radiant and your eyes shine.

You are home.

You are home.

Loop
http://www.gatherministries.com

IMG_6866

IMG_6870

IMG_6869

photo source tracks found at

In Deep Snow

IMG_6777

IMG_6773

IMG_6772
Walk past people sealed in their houses,
silence piled up on their roofs,
into the palimpsest of the woods,
thigh deep in the smoothness,
the substance of silence,
the weight of the light.
Snow in the trees, beneath the trees,
branches bowed with the weight of heaven.
In the open field the white
spreads like a calm sea.
The brook admits you;
beneath you know you are walking on her back.
At the far end of the frozen marsh
stand among the falling constellations
until it is possible
to belong in the cold and quiet,
to be erased and redrawn,
to be a flake in this drift of silence,
blanketed by the softly falling presence,
covered in God.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail, write to Steve at unfoldinglight(at)gmail.com

IMG_6774

IMG_6775

IMG_6776
Photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Dust of Snow by Robert Frost

I see you there on your cloud…will you see me?

Next to grace, I bet God thinks making us need each other was one of his best ideas.
– Bob Goff

IMG_6586
There’s this progressive shedding that has happened as I walk into my own being. Being responsible for ONLY my own life is an ever challenging, evolving process.
Several years ago, much to my surprise, I found some people just didn’t like me. No real reason even, just a vibrant dislike vibe when I walked in. I am super sensitive and my nature is to want to be liked. Yup, I’m a giant people pleaser! My progress has evolved over years of learning, and is still a work in process.
Many years ago I would twist myself into weird shapes and do anything to make the other like me, then I slowly learned to allow it to be and not prove myself, or force anything. It has been a gradual, sometimes extremely painful, learning.
Parallel to that, there has been this great and mighty internal work going on, and as I have shed yesterday and baby-step by baby-step learned tiny, mind blowing truths about what love really looks like, I have also been growing into my own voice.
It’s a rather unexpected thing for me, it’s scary and challenging, and yet essential for me to step into my calling. my purpose here.
I am being called to share my experiences in walking this path. Called to be vulnerable and speak as myself. Now, when people don’t like me, I can’t fully say, ‘Well, they really don’t know me at all. They haven’t encountered the real me’, because, more and more of myself is becoming visible.
I feel very alone. I feel unprepared. I feel unworthy. I feel I’m not good enough. I feel afraid of many things, rejection is one of the biggies.
What I know for sure is…none of these feelings matter. This is bigger than me and I cannot say no. What I have gained is too valuable not to share.
Anyway, this has come out different and longer than I expected when I started writing. I am crying so I know it is what I need to say.
I just ask you to pray for me.
If you are reading this, you are a fellow pilgrim. Thank you for sharing this moment on path with me.
As we say in Kentucky to friends as we go our separate ways for a moment, ‘Ya’ll come see us soon, don’t be a stranger.’

IMG_6629

photo source tracks found at

let’s be friends

2015/01/img_5372.jpg
If I could see you
and you see me too
look straight into my eyes
cause I’m dying inside
If we could wait for a moment
pause in the crowd
smile at another
say good morning out loud
Well, what would that matter
at the end of the day?

There’d be one less stranger in the world
tonight
one less stranger looking for light
If we would just shine
as we walk through our day
there’d be one less stranger in the world

If you would just speak right from the heart
and let me do that right at the start
If you could allow me my point of view
I’d try to do the same thing for you
If we both ask questions
of answers we seek
Then sit in silence allow each one to speak
Well, what kind of world would these words create?

There’d be one less stranger in the world
tonight
one less stranger looking for light
If we would just shine
as we walk through our day
there’d be one less stranger in the world

see beyond the fear
see both far and near
shine your little light
shine with all your might

ACL 1/25/15

When an iceberg gets flipped over…

2015/01/img_6473.jpg

2015/01/img_6472.jpg

2015/01/img_6471.jpg

Projects


http://www.liftbump.com/2015/01/36523-iceberg-flips-breathtaking-beauty-hidden-underneath-revealed/

2015/01/img_62141.jpg

2015/01/img_5351.jpg

🐱 furry friends

2015/01/img_6378.jpg

I know. I know.
they are limited, have different
needs and
concerns.

but I watch and learn from them.
I like the little they know,
which is so
much.

they complain but never
worry,
they walk with a surprising dignity.
they sleep with a direct simplicity that
humans just can’t
understand.

their eyes are more
beautiful than our eyes.
and they can sleep 20 hours
a day
without
hesitation or
remorse.

when I am feeling
low
all I have to do is
watch my cats
and my
courage
returns.

I study these
creatures.

they are my
teachers.

my cats by Charles Bukowski

2015/01/img_6377.jpg

2015/01/img_6376.jpg

2015/01/img_6375.jpg

2015/01/img_6374.jpg
More photos and cute videos @
http://news.distractify.com/matt-buco/ninja-cats-you-will-never-find/

find your wonder

2015/01/img_5375.jpg
The moon, half dressed,
slips out of bed with me.
Earth holds me in her palm,
each step, carries me out of the house.
First light leans easy against the trees,
lays an arm around my shoulders
and walks with me.
The air, the breath of the world,
cold and hard but willing,
wants to plunge deep into me,
and plunges. The morning,
wearing nothing but the universe,
opens her robe and wraps it around me.
The creator of all things,
the world gathered in her hands,
looks at this day and smiles
and leans a little bit forward
and says, “Let’s do this.”
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

2015/01/img_6016.jpg
There are no words for the deepest things. Words become feeble when mystery visits and prayer moves into silence. In post-modern culture the ceaseless din of chatter has killed our acquaintance with silence. Consequently, we are stressed and anxious. Silence is a fascinating presence. Silence is shy; it is patient and never draws attention to itself. Without the presence of silence, no word could ever be said or heard. Our thoughts constantly call up new words. We become so taken with words that we barely notice the silence, but the silence is always there. The best words are born in the fecund silence that minds the mystery.

…When the raft of prayer leaves the noisy streams of words and thoughts, it enters the still lake of silence. At this point, you become aware of the tranquility that lives within you. Beneath your actions, gestures, and thoughts, there is a silent tranquility.

When you pray, you visit the kind innocence of your soul. This is a pure place of unity which the noise of life can never disturb. You enter the secret temple of your deepest belonging. Only in this temple can your hungriest longing find stillness and peace. This is summed up in that lovely line from the Bible “Be still and know that I am God.” In stillness, the silence of the divine becomes intimate.

…When we pray, we pray to that space in the Divine Presence which absolutely knows us. This could be what is suggested in the New Testament when it says of our return to the invisible world: “On that day you will know as you are known.”

– John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes (p. 206-207)

2015/01/img_6019.jpg

2015/01/img_6022.jpg

the right thing

2015/01/img_5954.jpg
We are here essentially to risk ourselves in the world; we are a form of
invitation to others and to otherness, we are meant to hazard ourselves for the
right thing, for the right woman or the right man, for a son or a daughter, for
the right work or for a gift given against all the odds, and to allow ourselves to
be happy may be the greatest, most courageous act of all.
– David Whyte
2015/01/img_5959.jpg
As I approach,
it comes to me quickly –
all four seasons have converged,
are visible residents
of this mornings beach.
Here are bands of snow from this spell
we call Winter.
Here, layers of leaf-surf to shuffle through the memories,
we called Fall.
Which, seems to me,
was just yesterday?
The sands dna carries the Summer sun,
still warm,
within its restless, shifting soul.
It whispers promises of returning warmth and sunshine as I stand, here and now, in cold, driving rain,
working through markers of time,
arriving at my favorite season,
Spring!
Grief, death and hope are front and center,
as Vinnie’s beautiful, driftwood cross
still stands as a memorial to his mother’s recent passing,
as well as, the hope of springs sure arrival!
Easter carries the sharp winds of death,
alive with the eternal mystery of resurrection.
I realize there are many symbols of spring,
on this mixed media stretch of grainy life.
The all-weather gulls floating, trusting,
eternally free.
The rhythm of the waves forever dancing with,
continually kissing,
the shore.
Then there’s me,
aware and alive,
with possibilities
of love,
music,
even that slippery word,
happiness,
surrounding my steps!
It doesn’t matter
that I haven’t even heard your voice yet.
Knowing I am worthy of this is enough.
As hopes awaken,
rising strong on mended wings,
trusting the healing path taken,
the work continues.
Allowing the
shy, twinkling lights
to glow and illuminate
the most fearful, secret corners
of the darkest rooms
of my heart.
I smile and silently shout, Yes!
I promise to love and be loved!
Can you hear me, wherever you are?
Is your heart shouting out as well?
I can’t stop smiling.
Courage,
that fearless lion,
who will lead us all home
right where we belong.

ACL 1/12/15

2015/01/img_5964.jpg

what are you willing to risk?

2015/01/img_5936.jpg

2015/01/img_5712.jpg
Keep walking though there’s no place to get to.
Don’t try to see through the distances.
That’s not for human beings. Move within, but don’t move the way fear makes you move.
– Rumi

2015/01/img_5909.jpg

2015/01/img_5377.jpg

2015/01/img_5432.jpg

2015/01/img_5937.jpg

2015/01/img_5938.jpg

2015/01/img_5939.jpg

2015/01/img_5940.jpg
just acknowledge the fear and do it anyway!

2015/01/img_5428-0.jpg

Post Navigation