Everything is beautiful and I am so sad. This is how the heart makes a duet of wonder and grief. The light spraying through the lace of the fern is as delicate as the fibers of memory forming their web around the knot in my throat. The breeze makes the birds move from branch to…
And if it’s true we are alone, we are alone together, the way blades of grass are alone, but exist as a field. Sometimes I feel it, the green fuse that ignites us, the wild thrum that unites us, an inner hum that reminds us of our shared humanity. Just as thirty-five trillion red blood…
Now, In this time of times perhaps we have such need again, for a poultice placed gently and with kindness upon the rounded body of the earth where too long our self-sickness has burrowed deep within and brought the breaking and the burning of fever dream, of pain and sorrow become now a crown of…
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want. Don’t go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don’t go back to sleep. by Rumi, translated/interpreted…
My friends, let’s grow up. Let’s stop pretending we don’t know the deal here. Or if we truly haven’t noticed, let’s wake up and notice. Look: Everything that can be lost, will be lost. It’s simple — how could we have missed it for so long? Let’s grieve our losses fully, like ripe human beings,…
Beneath the masks, beneath the names, beneath ideals, beneath the shoulds is a thrumming, ecstatic atomic swirl, unseen and omnipresent, inescapable and holy—a divine blurring of being, a realm of charge and energy— most of it empty space. Sometimes, I remember this. Perhaps walking in the woods or standing in the midst of a city’s…
PART ONE, SONNET IV You who let yourselves feel: enter the breathing that is more than your own. Let it brush your cheeks as it divides and rejoins behind you. Blessed ones, whole ones, you where the heart begins: You are the bow that shoots the arrows and you are the target. Fear not the…
Let there be From breath to breath from dusk to dusk let there be rainfall when the soil is parched as rock let there be sunshine when the barley bends to be cut let there be rainbows when the days are short of light let there be wind when our boats are turned for home.…
What we see is not the most important. Could dust rise without the invisible hand of the wind? Could a fan turn without any current? Could lungs breathe without breath? Tell me What is the shape of Love? How much does Joy weigh when hold in the palm of your hand? Can you catch the…
That’s it. Walk, don’t run. Slow down, breathe deeply, and open your eyes because there’s a whole world right here within this one. The bush doesn’t suddenly catch on fire, it’s been burning the whole time. Moses is simply moving slowly enough to see it. And when he does, he takes off his sandals. Not…
How admirable – a man who sees lightening and not satori by Matsuo Bashō In this very short poem, we are given a piece of pith wisdom for our practice. As I understand it, it is saying – watch out for when you lose the freshness because you’ve married yourself to limiting concepts! (Satori…
This morning as my eyes blink open it occurs to me as if for the first time what you, miracle body, have been up to All night long, while I let go you pumped blood through veins to fingertips and toes grew cells and eyelashes and nails inhaled and exhaled countless times all this while…
I have a feeling that my boat has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing. And nothing happens! Nothing… Silence… Waves… —Nothing happens? Or has everything happened, and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life? by Juan Ramon Jimenez Here’s a poem which, for me, exemplifies what I see…
I was alone on a sunny shore by the forest’s pale blue lake, in the sky floated a single cloud and on the water a single isle. The ripe sweetness of summer dripped in beads from every tree and straight into my opened heart a tiny drop ran down. by Edith Södergran, translated from Swedish…
Listen, O brothers and sisters, If you recognise me, Queen of the Lake of Awareness, who encompasses both emptiness and form, know that I live in the minds of all beings who live. Know that I live in the body of mind and the field of the senses, that matter is only my bones and…
Whether or not you know that you are beautiful, the flowers gaze at you whenever you walk by. When your heart feels like stone and you’ve lost sight of the gifts being given, you are still held by the earth beneath you and kissed by the breath of the trees. When you’ve convinced yourself that…
Go inside a stone That would be my way. Let somebody else become a dove Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth. I am happy to be a stone. From the outside the stone is a riddle: No one knows how to answer it. Yet within, it must be cool and quiet Even though a cow…
I’ve lost: Three hours of work on the last chapter Friends I thought I had for life The golden cross pendant my godmother gave me Faith in God Frequently, my equanimity I almost lost: The way out of the woods My passport and smartphone at the Dutch tulip show My virginity before I was ready…
It was spring and finally I heard him among the first leaves – then I saw him clutching the limb in an island of shade with his red-brown feathers all trim and neat for the new year. First, I stood still and thought of nothing. Then I began to listen. Then I was filled with…
We look with uncertainty beyond the old choices for clear-cut answers to a softer, more permeable aliveness which is every moment at the brink of death; for something new is being born in us if we but let it. We stand at a new doorway, awaiting that which comes… daring to be human creatures, vulnerable…
And the Great Mother said: Come my child and give me all that you are. I am not afraid of your strength and darkness, of your fear and pain. Give me your tears. They will be my rushing rivers and roaring oceans. Give me your rage. It will erupt into my molten volcanoes and rolling…
The optometrist says my eyes are getting better each year. Soon he’ll have to lower my prescription. What’s next? The light step I had at six? All the gray hairs back to brown? Skin taut as a drum? My improved eyes and I walked around town and celebrated. We took in the letters of the…
When I consider how in this world all is falling blossom – what then must become of this self? This world – strung jewels of dew on the frail thread a spider spins by Saigyō, translated by Meredith McKinney I find these poems so incredibly potent. In a few words the…
She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth— it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall and clears it for a different celebration where the one guest is you. In the softness of evening it’s you she receives. You are the partner of her loneliness,…
May all that is unforgiven in you, Be released. May your fears yield Their deepest tranquilities. May all that is unlived in you, Blossom into a future, Graced with love. by John O’Donohue The “former Catholic priest turned visionary bestselling author” John O’Donohue has a way of capturing heartfelt well-wishes in a way that…
1. Understand, I am always trying to figure out what the soul is, and where hidden, and what shape — and so, last week, when I found on the beach the ear bone of a pilot whale that may have died hundreds of years ago, I thought maybe I was close to discovering something —…
What makes a fire burn is space between the logs, a breathing space. Too much of a good thing, too many logs packed in too tight can douse the flames almost as surely as a pail of water would. So building fires requires attention to the spaces in between, as much as to the wood.…
I want to be like the maples, letting go so easily of their leaves in the slightest autumn breeze, surrendering every piece of themselves they no longer need, and embracing bareness like a new suit they can simply step into. But I’m more like the beech trees, which cling to the husks of their leaves…
Down near the bottom of the crossed-out list of things you have to do today, between “green thread” and “broccoli” you find that you have penciled “sunlight.” Resting on the page, the word is as beautiful, it touches you as if you had a friend and sunlight were a present he had sent you from…
Once, I ran from fear so fear controlled me. Until I learned to hold fear like a newborn. Listen to it, but not give in. Honor it, but not worship it. Fear could not stop me anymore. I walked with courage into the storm. I still have fear, but it does not have me. Once,…
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs. How rivers and stones are forever in allegiance with gravity while we ourselves dream of rising. How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken. How people come, from delight or the…
And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain. And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at…
Soak up the sun Affirm life’s magic Be graceful in the wind Stand tall after a storm Feel refreshed after it rains Grow strong without notice Be prepared for each season Provide shelter to strangers Hang tough through a cold spell Emerge renewed at the first signs of spring Stay deeply rooted while reaching for…
Enter the wild with care, my love And speak the things you see Let new names take and root and thrive and grow And even as you travel far from heather, crag and river May you like the little fisher, set the stream alight with glitter May you enter now as otter without falter into…
It’s okay if you’re scared when you’re opening. The seed, she was scared too. Do you think the coal wanted to become a diamond? Ha! She was scared out of her wits of change! It took her 10,000 years to even be able to pray for it. And what about our favourite cliché, that caterpillar?…
Come with me now, along the beckoning path, silvered in mist toward the glimmering lake, bring every grief you have not said and every tear you have not shed and every sorrow you’ve carried alone. ‘There is a door beneath everything we’ll walk right by if we don’t stop to look with our troubled hearts…
I am making a home inside myself. A shelter of kindness where everything is forgiven, everything allowed—a quiet patch of sunlight to stretch out without hurry, where all that has been banished and buried is welcomed, spoken, listened to—released. A fiercely friendly place I can claim as my very own. I am throwing arms open…
Ch’ui the draftsman Could draw more perfect circles freehand Than with a compass. His fingers brought forth Spontaneous forms from nowhere. His mind Was meanwhile free and without concern With what he was doing. No application was needed His mind was perfectly simple And knew no obstacle. So, when the shoe fits The foot is…
Awaken to the mystery of being here and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence. Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses. Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon. Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to follow its path. Let the flame of anger free you of all…
Remember who you are. Not the shape others have put on you, not the story they handed you, not the lies or needs that were pressed into your psyche. Not even your own imagined ideas of what you should be. But the real you, the wild innate you that is breathing under all those should…
Among deep mountains the heart’s moon shines pure and I see within that mirror the whole world enlightened Saigyō, translated form Japanese by Meredith McKinney This is a Tanka poem by Japanese hermit Saigyō Hōshi who lived in the 12th Century. Saigyō is very widely known and much loved for his poetry of renunciation…
Dhammadinna – She Who Has Given Herself to the Dhamma For so long I thought only of the river’s end. Then one morning, I set my paddle down to watch the sun rise over the eastern hills – only to find myself floating – somehow gently upstream. I promise it was not what I had…
I’ve learned to live simply, wisely, To look at the sky and pray to God, And to take long walks before evening To wear out this useless anxiety. When the burdocks rustle in the ravine And the yellow-red clusters of rowan nod, I compose happy verses About mortal life, mortal and beautiful life. I return.…
Finally on my way to yes I bump into all the places where I said no to my life all the untended wounds the red and purple scars those hieroglyphs of pain carved into my skin, my bones, those coded messages that send me down the wrong street again and again where I find them…
Vijaya – Victor When everyone else was meditating, I’d be outside circling the hall. Finally I went to confess. I’m hopeless, I said. The elder nun smiled. Just keep going, she said. Nothing stays in orbit forever. If this circling is all you have, why not make this circling your home? I did as she…
Bird at the top of the world, who knew it would come to this? What are you singing? What are you singing for? Perhaps you just can’t help yourself. Over the entire hemisphere your flute-phrases fall, announcing spring again – our northern spring, stirring deep and dark within bare forests, advancing across plains toward great…
To pray you open your whole self To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon To one whole voice that is you. And know there is more That you can’t see, can’t hear; Can’t know except in moments Steadily growing, and in languages That aren’t always sound but other Circles of motion. Like eagle that…
Contemplation on No-Coming and No-Going This body is not me. I am not limited by this body, I am life without boundaries. I have never been born, and I have never died. Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars, manifestations from my wondrous true mind. Since before time, I have been free.…
Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone– and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the…
In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake, coming back to this life from the other more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world where everything began, there is a small opening into the new day that closes the moment you begin your plans. What you can plan is too small for you to…
Each day before our surroundings become flat with familiarity and the shapes of our lives click into place, dimensionless and average as Tetris cubes, before hunger knocks from our bellies like a cantankerous old man and the duties of the day stack up like dishes and the architecture of our basic needs commissions all thought…
I cannot tell you how the light comes. What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining. That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us. That it loves searching out what is hidden what is lost what is forgotten or in peril or in pain. That it has a fondness for…
I like when the music happens like this: Something in His eye grabs hold of a tambourine in me, then I turn and lift a violin in someone else, and they turn, and this turning continues; it has reached you now. Isn’t that something? by Rumi, interpreted by Daniel Ladinsky What is it for…
“One practice that I use sometimes – say, in my dentist’s waiting-room – I call The ABCs of Grateful Living: I go through the alphabet and note for each letter the first word that comes to my mind. Then, I try to make a connection between that word and my practice of grateful living. It’s a…
Our hands imbibe like roots, so I place them on what is beautiful in this world. And I fold them in prayer, and they draw from the heavens light. by St Francis of Assisi interpreted by Daniel Ladinsky A few days ago I was sitting and practicing with a sadness I felt around how…
(to listen to the author speaking this poem, please click here) my brain and heart divorced a decade ago over who was to blame about how big of a mess I have become eventually, they couldn’t be in the same room with each other now my head and heart share custody of me stay with…
If you put your hands on this oar with me, they will never harm another, and they will come to find they hold everything you want. If you put your hands on this oar with me, they would no longer lift anything to your mouth that might wound your precious land – that sacred earth…
Sing, my tongue; sing, my hand; sing, my feet; my knee, my loins, my whole body. Indeed I am His choir. by St. Thomas Aquinas When I rest in body awareness, I allow the field of experience which is my body to speak to me. I hold the intention to listen with gentleness. This…
Forget about ‘transcending’ the body. Love it instead! Let go of the idea of ‘letting go’. Instead, let love go deep into the tender places, the parts that ache. Breathe into your sadness. Let your fear move deep within. Bow to your uncertainty. There is an untouchable place in you that fearlessly allows itself to…
Just sit there right now Don’t do a thing. Just rest. For your separation from God is the hardest work in this world. Let me bring you trays of food and something that you like to drink. You can use my soft words as a cushion for your head. Daniel Ladinsky rendition of Hafiz …
Hope is the belief that one hand reaching to another can eventually touch the moon, allowing the light to guide us through the night. by Nicholas Mazza In this week before COP26 starts, I found myself reflecting on hope, where to find it when it feels illusive, and on the role it plays in…
Balance is noticed most when almost failed of — in an elephant’s delicate wavering on her circus stool, for instance, or that moment when a ladder starts to tip but steadies back. There are, too, its mysterious departures. Hours after the dishes are washed and stacked, a metal bowl clangs to the floor, the weight…
And whom do I call my enemy? An enemy must be worthy of engagement. I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking. It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind. The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun. It sees and knows everything. It hears the gnashing even…
just to fall back on the grass and be just to fall down on my bed and stay to be just a being on this earth my head objects: there’s a life to be lived a path to be followed a skill to be learned a friend to be seen a change to be made…
The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek. The idea you carry close to…
Release the harsh and pointed inner voice. it’s just a throwback to the past, and holds no truth about this moment. Let go of self-judgment, the old, learned ways of beating yourself up for each imagined inadequacy. Allow the dialogue within the mind to grow friendlier, and quiet. Shift out of inner criticism and life…
Like the little stream Making its way Through the mossy crevices I, too, quietly Turn clear and transparent. by Ryokan, translated by John Stevens Sitting by this little babbling stream in my mind’s eye takes me back to times when I used to cycle out of Glasgow and into the countryside, stopping and sitting…
“Which is bigger,” he asks me, “the ocean or sky,” and I want to tell him the heart, which even today has been practicing vastness, is learning to say yes in new languages, learning to stretch beyond the center, beyond the lips, learning to be more moon and less woman, to reflect light without owning…
I many times thought Peace had come When peace was far away, As wrecked men deem they sight the land When far at sea they stay. And struggle slacker, but to prove, As hopelessly as I, That many the fictitious shores Before the harbour lie. I had a fleeting moment when reflecting on the…
Don’t give me consolation I’m ashamed of my tears Go without looking at me I don’t want you to find me weak Go And give me the opportunity To carve for my cheek A mask of stone To hide and seek. by Dr Parween Pazhwak (Afghanistan) I recognise this feeling of exposed vulnerability and…
Today I’m flying low and I’m not saying a word I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep. The world goes on as it must, the bees in the garden rumbling a little, the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten. And so forth. But I’m taking the day off. Quiet as a feather. I hardly…
What if recognizing diamonds was enough to make them yours and you saw them now everywhere? On the sunlit ocean; in the moonless sky; on winter fields and the tips of branches after the rain; in smiling faces; the brook; the lake; the stream; the kitchen stove; stairs; puddles, ice, clouds; anywhere life glimmers and…
It was as if a window suddenly blew open and the sky outside the mind came flooding in. My childhood shriveled to a close, thread of smoke that rose and touched a cloud — or the cloud’s replica adrift on the slow river of thinking — and disappeared inside it. In that dark water, a…
You keep waiting for something to happen, the thing that lifts you out of yourself, catapults you into doing all the things you’ve put off the great things you’re meant to do in your life, but somehow never quite get to. You keep waiting for the planets to shift the new moon to bring news,…
What powerful seeds lie dormant deep within you, longing to break through the surface and reach their slender stems toward the light? What tender buds are swelling inside you, yearning to unfurl their radiant petals and reveal their hidden beauty? What songs and stories are swirling deep within your breast? What wild and magical dreams…
Sometimes you don’t get to be a Buddha. Sometimes you just have to break. And feel. You have to lose your precious ‘spiritual awakening’. You just have to be a human being, feeling. Sometimes old pain resurfaces. Old fear. Sorrow. Trauma. The searing ache of the abandoned child. The rage of a forgotten universe. And…
My Life Is Not Mine— Give up wanting what other people have. That way you’re safe. “Where, where can I be safe?” you ask. This is not a day for asking questions, Not a day on any calendar. This day is conscious of itself. This day is a lover, bread, and gentleness, More manifest than…
Imagine you wake up with a second chance: The blue jay hawks his pretty wares and the oak still stands, spreading glorious shade. If you don’t look back, the future never happens. How good to rise in sunlight, in the prodigal smell of biscuits – eggs and sausage on the grill. The whole sky is…
Because sometimes we travel heavy and those heady times we can barely imagine the freebody movement of dance. Because sometimes we travel dark and from those hard paths we can’t even conjure an image of sunrise or moonrise or starlight or fire. Because sometimes we travel solo and those lonely times we forget all the…
It only takes a reminder to breathe, a moment to be still, and just like that, something in me settles, softens, makes space for imperfection. The harsh voice of judgment drops to a whisper and I remember again that life isn’t a relay race; that we will all cross the finish line; that waking up…
It is a kind of love, is it not? How the cup holds the tea, How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare, How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes Or toes. How soles of feet know Where they’re supposed to be. I’ve been thinking about the patience Of ordinary things, how clothes Wait respectfully…
Enough. These few words are enough. If not these words, this breath. If not this breath, this sitting here. This opening to the life we have refused again and again until now. Until now. by David Whyte A few simple words from the prolific poet David Whyte, often shared on the world wide web.…
There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken, a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable. There is a sorrow beyond all grief that leads to joy and a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength. There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss, out…
Wake up. Day calls you to your life: your duty. Tear your body from the black night and the shadows that covered it, this body for which light waited on tiptoe at dawn. Stand up, affirm the straight, simple will to be perfect, unbent purity. Touch the temple of your body. Is it hot? Cold?…
I am the earth, even when I wake up crying. These are the earth’s tears – the ocean of suffering belongs to her. I am the earth speaking to you now, and you are the earth listening with your precious ears. I am the earth walking through my doubts and fears and hopes and dreams…
The earth says keep still stay put & listen to the roar of silence hold on & root deep for treasure feel the sap rising through your bones wait & see what happens The river says keep flowing into the lochs swirling & swelling & swishing keep floating down down & down falling &…
I am not I I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; who remains calm and silent while I talk, and forgives, gently, when I hate, who walks where I am…
Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing. He says look forward to getting old. He says keep changing, you just get more who you really are. He says get stuck, accept it, repeat yourself as long as it is…
What would happen if we removed the word ‘anxious’ and just paid attention to these flickering sensations in the belly? What would happen if we took away the concept ‘lonely’ and simply became fascinated with this heavy feeling in the heart area? What would happen if we deleted the labels ‘sick’ or ‘broken’ or ‘bad’…
What if there is no need to change? No need to transform yourself Into someone who is more compassionate, more present, more loving, or wise? How would this affect all the places in your life where you are endlessly trying to be better, or different? What if the task is simply to unfold To become…
This is a poem for someone who is juggling her life. Be still sometimes. Be still sometimes. It needs repeating over and over to catch her attention over and over, as someone who is juggling her life finds it difficult to hear. Be still sometimes. Be still sometimes. Let it all fall sometimes. by Rose…
this is the recipe of life said my mother as she held me in her arms as i wept think of those flowers you plant in the garden each year they will teach you that people too must wilt fall root rise in order to bloom by rupi kaur On a lockdown day…
Watching the moon at midnight, solitary, mid-sky, I knew myself completely, no part left out. by Izumi Shikibu Original Language Japanese, English version by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani Izumi Shikibu was born in Japan in the late tenth century, and from what I learned about her on Wiki and here, she lived a…
Stay…stay…just stay. So whenever we wander off, we gently encourage ourselves to “stay” and settle down. Are we experiencing restlessness? Stay! Discursive mind? Stay! Aching knees and throbbing back? Stay! What’s for lunch? Stay! What am I doing here? Stay! I can’t stand this another minute! Stay! That is how we cultivate steadfastness. by Pema…
Do you think peace requires an end to war? Or tigers eating only vegetables? Does peace require an absence from your boss, your spouse, yourself? … Do you think peace will come some other place than here? Some other time than Now? In some other heart than yours? Peace is this moment without judgment. That…
Be empty of worrying Think of who created thought Why do you stay in prison When the door is wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear thinking. Live in silence. Flow down and down in always Widening rings of being. by Rumi A Rumi (Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī Maulana) classic from the ‘The Essential…
Now we’re ready to look at something pretty special. It is a duck, riding the ocean a hundred feet beyond the surf. No it isn’t a gull. A gull always has a raucous touch about him. This is some sort of duck, and he cuddles in the swells. He isn’t cold, and he is thinking…
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover and every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful will emerge, battered and beautiful When day comes we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid The new dawn blooms as we free it For there is always light, if…
Dear you, You who always have so many things to do so many places to be your mind spinning like fan blades at high speed each moment always a blur because you’re never still. I know you’re tired. I also know it’s not your fault. The constant brain-buzz is like a swarm of bees threatening…
Who shall bear hope, who else but us? After us is the long wind blowing off the ash pit of blasted genes, or after, the remarrying of the earth and the water. We must begin with the stone of mass resistance, and pile stone on stone on stone, begin cranking out whirlwinds of paper, the…
Crisply the bright snow whispered, Crunching beneath our feet; Behind us as we walked along the parkway, Our shadows danced, Fantastic shapes in vivid blue. Across the lake the skaters Flew to and fro, With sharp turns weaving A frail invisible net. In ecstasy the earth Drank the silver sunlight; In ecstasy the skaters Drank…
Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear. What we need is here.…
Perhaps for a moment the typewriters will stop clicking, the wheels stop rolling the computers desist from computing, and a hush will fall over the city. For an instant, in the stillness, the chiming of the celestial spheres will be heard as earth hangs poised in the crystalline darkness, and then gracefully tilts. Let there…
Throw the doors wide open and step into the enormous palace inside of you. Breathe. Breathe into every space. Feel every sensation. The joyful warmth of shared love and the vast emptiness that sometimes echoes around our hearts. The excited clarity of inspired thought as well as that clustered maze inside our heads. That deep…
Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself…
I am not I. I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; the one who remains silent while I talk, the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate, the one who takes a walk when I am…
And if I speak of Paradise, then I’m speaking of my grandmother who told me to carry it always on my person, concealed, so no one else would know but me. That way they can’t steal it, she’d say. And if life puts you under pressure, trace its ridges in your pocket, smell its piney…
Each day the engine of my gratefulness must be coaxed and primed into action. Of course like any old clunker, it would just as soon stay put. For even after the labored start beats the inertia, and the plume of white smoke struggles upward, the same hills always appear, soaring daily—tall and ominous as before.…
Breathe, said the wind How can I breathe at a time like this, when the air is full of the smoke of burning tires, burning lives? Just breathe, the wind insisted. Easy for you to say, if the weight of injustice is not wrapped around your throat, cutting off all air. I need you to…
today I am breathing through fatigue, fear, and feeling overwhelmed. I breathe because when I breathe, I am reminded that I am alive. I am reminded that to be able to fill my body with air means that I have the ability to keep going. I am reminded that my time on earth may be…
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? Will I ever be able to sing, even the…
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day. Emily Brontë As I look out of my window,…
In the land of words, I stand as still as a tree and let the words rain down on me. Come, rain, bring your knowledge and your music. Sing while I grow green and full. I’ll stand as still as a tree, and let your blessings fall on me. by Eloise Greenfield During these…
Happiness cannot be found through great effort and willpower, but is already here, right now, in relaxation and letting go. Don’t strain yourself, there is nothing to do. Whatever arises in the mind has no importance at all, because it has no reality whatsoever. Don’t become attached to it. Don’t pass judgement. Let the game…
Willing to experience aloneness, I discover connection everywhere; Turning to face my fear, I meet the warrior who lives within; Opening to my loss, I gain the embrace of the universe; Surrendering into emptiness, I find fullness without end. Each condition I flee from pursues me, Each condition I welcome transforms me And becomes itself…
At the ruins of the Seven Churches Inishmore Pick a crevice, a homey gap between stones and make it your own. Grow a life here from wind rain and the memories of ancients embedded in limestone. The bees will use you for their sweet honey. The rock will soften under your touch. You will draw…
We have a soul at times. No one’s got it non-stop, for keeps. Day after day, year after year may pass without it. Sometimes it will settle for awhile only in childhood’s fears and raptures. Sometimes only in astonishment that we are old. It rarely lends a hand in uphill tasks, like moving furniture, or…
And why not be flagrantly happy, really. The moon is full and rakish and spring keeps teasing the morning into taking off its sweater. By noon, everyone is blushing. In the garden, strawberries come up on their own, their fearless white flowers pre-wired for sweetness. Who cares the weeds are already releasing their onslaught of…
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else…
One morningwe will wake upand forget to buildthat wall we’ve been building,the one between usthe one we’ve been buildingfor years, perhapsout of some senseof right and boundary,perhaps out of habit. One morningwe will wake upand let our empty handshang empty at our sides.Perhaps they will rise,as empty thingssometimes dowhen blownby the wind.Perhaps they simplywill not rememberhow…
Who turns this into that? Sound into noise? Aroma into odor? Taste into pleasure or disgust? Who turns yes into no? Grace into disgrace? Who turns the present into the past? Who turns the now into the not-now? As-it-is into as-it-should-be? Silence into restlessness? Stillness into boredom? The ordinary into the menial? Who turns pain…
Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets’ towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a…
It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear. She looks back at the path she has traveled, from the peaks of the mountains, the long winding road crossing forests and villages. And in front of her, she sees an ocean so vast, that to enter there seems nothing more than…
Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures. by Antonio Machado This is a part of the longer poem by Antonio Machado, who is seen by many as one…
Earth, I thank you for the pleasure of your language You’ve had a hard time bringing it to me from the ground to grunt thru the noun To all the way feeling seeing smelling touching —awareness I am here! by Anne Spencer I was touched by this little poem, with its gratitude and emerging…
I I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I fall in. I am lost … I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes me forever to find a way out. II I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I…
Though the air is full of singing my head is loud with the labor of words. Though the season is rich with fruit, my tongue hungers for the sweet of speech. Though the beech is golden I cannot stand beside it mute, but must say ‘It is golden,’ while the leaves stir and fall with…
This morning as I walked along the lakeshore, I fell in love with a wren and later in the day with a mouse the cat had dropped under the dining room table. In the shadows of an autumn evening, I fell for a seamstress still at her machine in the tailor’s window, and later for…
In all ten directions of the universe, there is only one truth. When we see clearly, the great teachings are the same. What can ever be lost? What can be obtained? If we attain something, it was there from the beginning of time. If we lost something, it is hiding somewhere near us. Look: this…
It is possible, I suppose that sometime we will learn everything there is to learn: what the world is, for example, and what it means. I think this as I am crossing from one field to another, in summer, and the mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either knows enough already or knows enough…
Within the body you are wearing, now inside the bones and beating in the heart, lives the one you have been searching for so long. But you must stop running away and shake hands, the meeting doesn’t happen without your presence . . . your participation. The same one waiting for you there is moving…
The washing never gets done. The furnace never gets heated. Books never get read. Life is never completed. Life is like a ball which one must continually catch and hit so that it won’t fall. When the fence is repaired at one end, it collapses at the other. The roof leaks, the kitchen door won’t…
Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow — even today I am still arriving. Look deeply: every second I am arriving to be a bud on a Spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings, learning to sing in my new nest, to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to…
Letting go, in order to let in releasing, in order to receive nature’s coded messages become clearer the less we try to see. Trying hard, trying harder and harder trying so very hard is not the way. We need commitment, yes and focus and hope and faith and trust but most of all we need…
(to hear this poem spoken by the poet with images from the land around him, click here) Solace A poem for the time I met an old man on the path that runs above the sea, And as we passed I saw him smile and lift his eyes to me. There was such peace…
That day I saw beneath dark clouds, the passing light over the water and I heard the voice of the world speak out, I knew then, as I had before, life is no passing memory of what has been nor the remaining pages in a great book waiting to be read. It is the opening…
Don’t surrender your loneliness So quickly. Let it cut more deep. Let it ferment and season you As few human Or even divine ingredients can. Something missing in my heart tonight Has made my eyes so soft My voice So tender, My need of God Absolutely Clear. by Daniel Ladinsky, a rendition of Hafiz …
After Derek Mahon Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times, have felt the grand array; the…
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you. If you leave it, you may…
Do you know how the caterpillar turns? Do you remember what happens inside a cocoon? You liquefy. There in the thick black of your self-spun womb, void as the moon before waxing, you melt (as Christ did for three days in the tomb) conceiving in impossible darkness the sheer inevitability of wings. Kim Rosen …
Yes there is fear. Yes there is isolation. Yes there is panic buying. Yes there is sickness. Yes there is even death. But, They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise You can hear the birds again. They say that after just a few weeks of quiet The sky is no longer…
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath— the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buying and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those to whom you commit your life. Center down. And when…
Wide enough to keep you looking Open enough to keep you moving Dry enough to keep you honest Prickly enough to make you tough Green enough to go on living Old enough to give you dreams by Gary Snyder A grateful earth poem by the “poet laureate of Deep Ecology” Gary Snyder, with the…
Don’t worry about saving these songs! And if one of our instruments breaks, it doesn’t matter. We have fallen into the place where everything is music. The strumming and the flute notes rise into the atmosphere, and even if the whole world’s harp should burn up, there will still be hidden instruments playing. So the…
to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when…
A lover asked his beloved, Do you love yourself more than you love me? The beloved replied, I have died to myself and I live for you.I’ve disappeared from myself and my attributes. I am present only for you.I have forgotten all my learning, but from knowing you I have become a scholar. I have…
We plant seeds in the ground And dreams in the sky, Hoping that, someday, the roots of one Will meet the upstretched limbs of the other. It has not happened yet. We share the sky, all of us, the whole world: Together, we are a tribe of eyes that look upward, Even as we stand…
Change Said the sun to the moon, You cannot stay. Change Says the moon to the waters, All is flowing. Change Says the fields to the grass, Seed-time and harvest, Chaff and grain. You must change said, Said the worm to the bud, Though not to a rose, Petals fade That wings may rise Borne…
The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the…
I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant, His crypt…
Eat bread and understand comfort. Drink water, and understand delight. Visit the garden where the scarlet trumpets are opening their bodies for the hummingbirds who are drinking the sweetness, who are thrillingly gluttonous. For one thing leads to another. Soon you will notice how stones shine underfoot. Eventually tides will be the only calendar you…
Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there. Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as…
Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How…
I am a feather on the bright sky I am the blue horse that runs in the plain I am the fish that rolls, shining, in the water I am the shadow that follows a child I am the evening light, the lustre of meadows I am an eagle playing with the wind I am…
We have a beautiful mother Her hills are buffaloes Her buffaloes hills. We have a beautiful mother Her oceans are wombs Her wombs oceans. We have a beautiful mother Her teeth the white stones at the edge of the water the summer grasses her plentiful hair. We have a beautiful mother Her green lap immense…
I love the fitful gusts that shakes The casement all the day And from the mossy elm tree takes The faded leaf away Twirling it by the window-pane With thousand others down the lane I love to see the shaking twig Dance till the shut of eve The sparrow on the cottage rig Whose chirp…
I swear my way now will be to continue without plan or hope, to accept the drift of things, to shift from endless effort to joy in, say, that robin, plunging into the mossy shallows of my bird bath and splashing madly till the air shines with spray. Joy it will be, say, in Nancy,…
My beloved child, break your heart no longer. Each time you judge yourself you break your own heart. You stop feeding on the love, which is the wellspring of your vitality. The time has come, your time To live, to celebrate… and to see the goodness that you are… Let no one, no thing, no…
One day it’s the clouds, one day the mountains. One day the latest bloom of roses—the pure monochromes, the dazzling hybrids—inspiration for the cathedral’s round windows. Every now and then there’s the splendor of thought: the singular idea and its brilliant retinue— words, cadence, point of view, little gold arrows flitting between the lines. And…
Kingfisher: the colour-giver, fire-bringer, flame-flicker, river’s quiver. Ink-black bill, orange throat, and a quick blue back-gleaming feather-stream. Neat and still it sits on the snag of a stick, until with… Gold-flare, wing-fan, whipcrack the kingfisher – zingfisher, singfisher- Flashes down too fast to follow, quick and quicker carves its hollow In the water, slings its…
The eyes of the future are looking back at us, and they are praying that we might see beyond our own time. They are kneeling with hands clasped that we might act with restraint, that we might leave room for the life that is destined to come. To protect what is wild is to protect…
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes As an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honourably. He may be…
There is no controlling life. Try corralling a lightning bolt, containing a tornado. Dam a stream and it will create a new channel. Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet. Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground. The only safety lies in letting it all in – the wild and…
Let your eyes fall easy upon me, And gaze without intention or preconceived idea of what I am. My shape is not me, as yours is not you. There is more to it than that. More to it than meets the eye, or the precept. Think more of what I may be, of what I…
Kristine has been providing us with her wonderful Words of Wonder. Duncan and I are inspired by this and have decided to share some of our favourite poems, and those of our tutors and members too. This week we have a wonderful poem by Danna Faulds. This was introduced to me at my very first…
There is nothing more innocent than the still-unformed creature I find beneath the soil, neither of us knowing what it will become in the abundance of the planet. It makes a living only by remaining still in its niche. One day it might struggle out of its tender pearl of blind skin with a wing…
Clouds are flowing in the river, waves are flying in the sky. Life is laughing in a pebble. Does a pebble ever die? Flowers grow out of garbage, such a miracle to see. What seems dead and what seems dying makes for butterflies to be. Life is laughing in a pebble, flowers bathe in the…
grace gives me a day too beautiful I had thought to stay indoors & yet washing my dishes straightening my shelves finally throwing out the wilted onions shrunken garlic cloves I discover I am happy to be inside looking out. This, I think, is wealth. Just this choosing of how a beautiful day is spent.…
Love means to learn to look at yourself The way one looks at distant things For you are only one thing among many. And whoever sees that way heals his heart, Without knowing it, from various ills. A bird and a tree say to him: Friend. Then he wants to use himself and things So…
This magnificent refuge is inside you. Enter. Shatter the darkness that shrouds the doorway. Be bold. Be humble. Put away the incense and forget the incantations they taught you. Ask no permission from the authorities. Close your eyes and follow your breath to the still place that leads to the invisible path that leads you…
When despair for the world grows in meand I wake in the night at the least soundin fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,I go and lie down where the wood drakerests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.I come into the peace of wild thingswho do…
Love the earth like a mole,fur-near. Nearsighted,hold close the clods,their fine-print headlines.Pat them with soft hands — Like spades, but pink and loving; theybreak rock, nudge giants aside,affable plow.Fields are to touch;each day nuzzle your way. Tomorrow the world. by William Stafford Just back from teaching on Holy Isle, my earth-love is very much…
I Do not Want to step so quickly Over a beautiful line on God’s palm As I move through the earth’s Marketplace Today. I do not want to touch any object in this world Without my eyes testifying to the truth That everything is My Beloved. Something has happened To my understanding of…
Let go of what has passed. Let go of what may come. Let go of what is happening now. Don’t try to figure anything out. Don’t try to make anything happen. Relax, right now, and rest. by Tilopa (translated by Ken McLeod) These words from the 10th century Indian master Tilopa have clearly…
The stars fell through my window tonight AstonishedI got up They were everywhereCalling me Shiny bright and brilliantPeeping through the pinesPlaying peek-a-boo with the cloudsScattering diamonds everywhere Such Largesse How could I be so luckyTo be so loved by this good earth By Lauretta Santarossa I’m writing from Samye Ling this week where I’m…
Let’s remake the world with words.Not frivolously, norTo hide from what we fear,But with a purpose. Let’s,As Wordsworth said, remove“The dust of custom” so thingsShine again, each object arrayedIn its robe of original light. And then we’ll see the worldAs if for the first time.As once we gazed at the belovedWho was gazing at us.…
It may be that when we no longer know what to dowe have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to gowe have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings. by Wendell Berry…
These shriveled seeds we plant,corn kernel, dried bean,poke into loosened soil,cover over with measured fingertips These T-shirts we fold intoperfect white squares These tortillas we slice and fry to crisp stripsThis rich egg scrambled in a gray clay bowl This bed whose covers I straightensmoothing edges till blue quilt fits brown blanketand nothing hangs out…
Sometimes simplicity riseslike a blossom of firefrom the white silk of your own skin.You were there in the beginningyou heard the story, you heard the mercilessand tender words telling you where you had to go.Exile is never easy and the journeyitself leaves a bitter taste. But then,when you heard that voice, you had to go.You…
May you be blessed in the holy names of thoseWho, without you knowing it,Help to carry and lighten your pain. May you know serenityWhen you are calledTo enter the house of suffering. May a window of light always surprise you. May you be granted the wisdomTo avoid false resistance;When suffering knocks on the door of…
I want to be ever a childI want to feel an eternal friendshipfor the raindrops, the flowers,the insects, the snowflakes.I want to be keenly interested in everything,with mind and muscle ever alert, forgetting my troubles in the next moment.The stars and the sea, the ponds and the trees,the birds and the animals, are my comrades.Though…
The universe does notrevolve around you.The stars and planets spinningthrough the ballroom of spacedance with one anotherquite outside of your small life.You cannot hold gravityor seasons; even air and waterinevitably evade your grasp.Why not, then, let go? You could move through timelike a shark through water,neither restless or ceasing,absorbed in and absorbingthe native element.Why pretend…
I don’t take your wordsMerely as words.Far from it. I listenTo what makes you talk – Whatever that is – And me listen. by Shinkichi Takahashi.Translated from the Japanese by Lucien Stryk & Takahashi Ikemoto I’m not sure how come, but I’ve had an unusual amount of rich conversations and deep heart-meetings this week. They’ve left…
We think we get over things.We don’t get over things.Or say, we get over the measlesbut not a broken heart.We need to make that distinction.The things that become part of our experiencenever become less a part of our experience.How can I say it?The way to “get over” a life is to die.Short of that, you…
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.My shoulder is against yours. You will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrinerooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs windingaround your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables. When you really look for…
The same stream of life that runsthrough my veins night and day runsthrough the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joythrough the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass andbreaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. It is the same life that is rocked…
If you hanker fora zenith of felicityon the bed of the Divinebegin by dusting offthe wings of wonderon your local pillowLift your ineffableout of the mundaneAim for airbornewith the eye of the heartas your sky pilotand soar to glory by James Broughton A radiant case for bringing beginners mind and fresh curiosity to life-as-you-find-it…
Starting here, what do you want to remember?How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?What scent of old wood hovers, what softenedsound from outside fills the air? Will you ever bring a better gift for the worldthan the breathing respect that you carrywherever you go right now? Are you waitingfor time to show you some better…
When death comeslike the hungry bear in autumn;when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;when death comeslike the measle-pox when death comeslike an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:what is it going to…
Don’t go outside your house to see the flowers.My friend, don’t bother with that excursion.Inside your body there are flowers.One flower has a thousand petals.That will do for a place to sit.Sitting there you will have a glimpse of beautyInside the body and out of it,Before gardens and after gardens. by Kabir I was immediately…
With what stillness at last you appear in the valley your first sunlight reaching down to touch the tips of a few high leaves that do not stir as though they had not noticed and did not know you at all then the voice of a dove calls from far away in itself to the…
On the day when The weight deadens On your shoulders And you stumble, May the clay dance To balance you. And when your eyes Freeze behind The grey window And the ghost of loss Gets in to you, May a flock of colours, Indigo, red, green, And azure blue, Come to awaken in you A…
I have been trying to read the script cut in these hills— a language carved in the shimmer of stubble and the solid lines of soil, spoken in the thud of apples falling and the rasp of corn stalks finally bare. The pheasants shout it with a rusty creak as they gather in the fallen…
A sly gift it is, that on the year’s shortest day, the sun stays longest in this house– extends the wand of its slow slant and distant squint farthest into the long depths of our wintry rooms–to touch with tremulous light, interior places it has not lit before. by Robyn Sarah As we are…
I am the black lace tree Fashioned to the shifting swathe of sky Lifting your eyes to beauty I am the steadfast girth Of the wide gnarled trunk Urging your body to lean I am the swooping blackbird Thrilled by the cool freeing air Calling your heart to joy I am the determined dog Nose…
I awoke this morning in the gold light turning this way and that thinking for a moment it was one day like any other. But the veil had gone from my darkened heart and I thought it must have been the quiet candlelight that filled my room, it must have been the first easy rhythm…
Stop whatever it is you’re doing.Come down from the attic.Grab a bucket or a basket and head for light.That’s where the best poems grow, and in the dappled dark. Go slow. Watch out for thorns and bears.When you find a good bush, bowto it, or take off your shoes. Pluck. This poem. That poem. Any…
(at St. Mary’s) may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our understanding carry you out beyond the face of fear may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back may you open your eyes to water water waving forever and may you in your…
the way even the late-blooming aster succumbs to the power of frost— this is not a new story. Still, on this morning, the hollowness of the season startles, filling the rooms of your house, filling the world with impossible light, improbable hope. And so, what else can you do but let yourself be broken and…
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for…
One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice – – – though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. ‘Mend my life!’ each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you…
Be thankful now for having arrived, for the sense of having drunk from a well, for remembering the long drought that preceded your arrival and the years walking in a desert landscape of surfaces looking for a spring hidden from you so long that even wanting to find it now had gone from your mind…
I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and forgotten it. But that was the pearl of great price, the one field that had treasure in it. I realise now that I must give all that I have to possess it. Life is not…
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…
(after Wallace Stevens) The fortune that you seek is in another cookie, was my fortune. So I’ll be equally frank—the wisdom that you covet is in another poem. The life that you desire is in a different universe. The cookie you are craving is in another jar. The jar is buried somewhere in Tennessee. Don’t…
The good news they do not print. The good news we do print. We have a special edition every moment, and we need you to read it. The good news is that you are alive, that the linden tree is still there, standing firm in the harsh winter. The good news is that you have…
Go gently today, don’t hurry or think about the next thing. Walk with the quiet trees, can you believe how brave they are—how kind? Model your life after theirs. Blow kisses at yourself in the mirror especially when you think you’ve messed up. Forgive yourself for not meeting your unreasonable expectations. You are human, not…
Sometimes the mountain is hidden from me in veils of cloud, sometimes I am hidden from the mountain in veils of inattention, apathy, fatique, when I forget or refuse to go down to the shore or a few yards up the road, on a clear day, to reconfirm that witnessing presence. by Denise Levertov …
Above the mountains the geese turn into the light again painting their black silhouettes on an open sky. Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that first, bright and indescribable wedge of freedom in…
But listen to me. For one moment quit being sad. Hear blessings dropping their blossoms around you. by Rumi, interpreted by Coleman Barks A little Rumi snippet from a longer poem ‘Burnt Kabob‘ (as translated/interpreted by Coleman Barks) that’s traveled with me since my early days on Holy Isle nearly two decades (!) ago.…
I bless the night that nourished my heart To set the ghosts of longing free Into the flow and figure of dream That went to harvest from the dark Bread for the hunger no one sees. All that is eternal in me Welcomes the wonder of this day, The field of brightness it creates…
Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean – the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down…
Go and open the door. ….Maybe outside there’s ….a tree, or a wood, ….a garden, ….or a magic city. Go and open the door. ….Maybe a dog’s rummaging. ….Maybe you’ll see a face, or an eye, or the picture ….of a picture. Go and open the door. ….If there’s a fog ….it will clear.…
The Arabs used to say, When a stranger appears at your door, feed him for three days before asking who he is, where he’s come from, where he’s headed. That way, he’ll have strength enough to answer. Or, by then you’ll be such good friends you don’t care. Let’s go back to that. Rice? Pine…
Every day ….I see or hear ……..something …………that more or less kills me ….with delight, ……..that leaves me …………like a needle in the haystack ….of light. ……..It was what I was born for – …………to look, to listen, to lose myself ….inside this soft world – ……..to instruct myself …………over and over in joy, ….and…
One morning you might wake up to realize that the knot in your stomach had loosened itself and slipped away, and that the pit of unfulfilled longing in your heart had gradually, and without your really noticing, been filled in—patched like a pothole, not quite the same as it was, but good enough. And in…
Forget about enlightenment. Sit down wherever you are And listen to the wind singing in your veins. Feel the love, the longing, the fear in your bones. Open your heart to who you are, right now, Not who you would like to be, Not the saint you are striving to become, But the being right…
Has the moon been up there All these nights And I never noticed? A whole week with my nose To the ground, to the grind. And the beloved faithfully Returning each evening As the moon. Where have I been? Who has abandoned whom? by Gregory Orr Yes, I can relate to this! When I…
I go among trees and sit still. All my stirring becomes quiet Around me like circles on water. My tasks lie in their places Where I left them, asleep like cattle… Then what I am afraid of comes. I live for a while in its sight. What I fear in it leaves it, And the…
Hokusai says look carefully. He says pay attention, notice. He says keep looking, stay curious. He says there is no end to seeing He says look forward to getting old. He says keep changing, you just get more who you really are. He says get stuck, accept it, repeat yourself as long as it is…
FROM: LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able…
The moment your eyes are open, seize the day. Would you hold back when the Beloved beckons? Would you deliver your litany of sins like a child’s collection of sea shells, prized and labeled? “No, I can’t step across the threshold,” you say, eyes downcast. “I’m not worthy, I’m afraid, and my motives aren’t pure.…
How did the rose Ever open its heart And give to this world All its beauty? It felt the encouragement of light Against its being, Otherwise, We all remain Too frightened Daniel Ladinsky’s rendition of Hafiz A little gem of a poem, simple and true. It reminds me how important that “encouragement of light”…
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes…
You see, I want a lot. Perhaps I want everything: The darkness that comes with every infinite fall And the shivering blaze of every step up. So many live on and want nothing And are raised to the rank of prince By the slippery ease of their light judgments But what you love to see…