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…
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…
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…
Mindfulness with support on sound has been my go-to practice these past couple of weeks. I admit to a preference here – I find it so soothing, and find myself using sound at times rather than breath to bring myself back to present awareness in my daily life when I find my mind has wandered…
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…
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…
Recently I have become aware of activities that I do that become a complete immersion, away from my habitual, incessant thinking patterns. Anything that is powerful enough to enable me to become totally present and not drown in my ruminations about the past, worries about the future and self-criticism comes along like a sigh of…