HOMAGE
FOR MARY OLIVER
So simple
so clear
so here.
Like a cat
pawing
at the air
or the whip
crack
sound
of a dog
snapping
at a fly.
Always
toward
the end
the way
we are never
quite
prepared
to find
the beautiful
sense
of hidden
pleasurable
and complete
surprise
in the poem
when
reading
the
very
last line,
but which
is
the one
you
remember
and
that stays
with you
when you do.
…
David Whyte
My favorite is the cream puff lie,
the kind inflated with hot air,
expanded to make an heroic-sized story.
Another is the cannoli, a long lie,
well-packed with nutty details,
lightly wrapped in flakey truth.
A macaroon isn't a little white lie,
but it's covered
with self-serving coconut.
The apple tart carries slices
of sour gossip, only
slightly sweetened with truth.
Then there's the napoleon,
an Iago lie of pernicious intent,
layer upon layer of dark deceit.
Judith Askew
from her book On the Loose
For A New Beginning
In out-of-the-way places of the heart,
Where your thoughts never think to wander,
This beginning has been quietly forming,
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire,
Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,
Noticing how you willed yourself on,
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the gray promises that sameness whispered,
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,
Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream,
A path of plenitude opening before you.
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure;
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.
John O’Donohue
To Bless the Space Between Us
May you listen to your longing to be free.
May the frames of your belonging be generous enough for your dreams.
May you arise each day with a voice of blessing whispering in your heart.
May you find a harmony between your soul and your life.
May the sanctuary of your soul never become haunted.
May you know the eternal longing that lives at the heart of time.
May there be kindness in your gaze when you look within.
May you never place walls between the light and yourself.
May you allow the wild beauty of the invisible world to gather you, mind you, and embrace you in belonging.
No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.
All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.
All this trying
to know
who we are
and all this
wanting to know
exactly
what we must do.
What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.
What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire.
What disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.
What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.
Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.
And
here
in the tumult
of the night
I hear the walnut
above the child’s swing
swaying
its dark limbs
in the wind
and the rain now
come to
beat against my window
and somewhere
in this cold night
of wind and stars
the first whispered
opening of
those hidden
and invisible springs
that uncoil
in the still summer air
each yet
to be imagined
rose.
--David Whyte
[Photo of Cali by the fireplace]
Though my soul may set in darkness,
it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly
to be fearful of the night.
Sara Williams (excerpt)
It slithered in snakelike, the worry, and hissed in a sinister whisper, What if you said too much? Why can’t you just be quiet? I felt its ...
