I am a week into a two week winter sun getaway to Cyprus. Away from the busyness of work I am noticing a lot of inner-critic dialogue along with an underlying feeling of being a failure. I am aware of a constant vigilance for instances where I might be subject to humiliation. Moreover I appear…
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…
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.…
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…