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…
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…
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 …
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…
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…