Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Tell Your Heart to Listen


Tell your heart to listen . . .
To the questions that haven’t been asked
To the fears not expressed
To the need not yet known

Tell your heart to listen . . .
To the voice inside yourself.
The voice that says, “Pick up the phone”
“Write a note”
“Send a gift”

Ask yourself the question
How can I help?
Who can I call?
What might make a difference?

Tell your heart to listen . . .
To your own heart’s desire
For a cup of tea
A fire in the fireplace
A talk with someone you love.


--Mary Osborne

[Photo from Alderbrook Resort on Hood Canal, WA]



Monday, March 30, 2020

blessing the boats


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 innocence
sail through this to that


-- Lucille Clifton

[Photo of Metallak Island in Rangley, Maine]



Friday, March 20, 2020

This is the Time to be Slow

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

--John O'Donohue

[Poulnabrone Dolmen  on the Burren, County Clare, Ireland]



Thursday, March 19, 2020

In a time of distance


The unexpected always happens in the way

The unexpected has always occurred:

While we are doing something else,

While we are thinking of altogether

Different things – matters that events

Then show to be every bit as unimportant

As our human concerns so often are;

And then, with the unexpected upon us,

We look at one another with a sort of surprise;

How could things possibly turn out this way

When we are so competent, so pleased

With the elaborate systems we’ve created –

Networks and satellites, intelligent machines,

Pills for every eventuality – except this one?

And so we turn again to face one another

And discover those things

We had almost forgotten,

But that, mercifully, are still there:

Love and friendship, not just for those

To whom we are closest, but also for those

Whom we do not know and of whom

Perhaps we have in the past been frightened;

The words brother and sister, powerful still,

Are brought out, dusted down,

Found to be still capable of expressing

What we feel for others, that precise concern;

Joined together in adversity

We discover things we had put aside:

Old board games with obscure rules,

Books we had been meaning to read,

Letters we had intended to write,

Things we had thought we might say

But for which we never found the time;

And from these discoveries of self, of time,

There comes a new realisation

That we have been in too much of hurry,

That we have misused our fragile world,

That we have forgotten the claims of others

Who have been left behind;

We find that out in our seclusion,

In our silence; we commit ourselves afresh,

We look for a few bars of song

That we used to sing together,

A long time ago; we give what we can,

We wait, knowing that when this is over

A lot of us – not all perhaps – but most,

Will be slightly different people,

And our world, though diminished,

Will be much bigger, its beauty revealed afresh.


--Alexander McCall Smith



Sunday, March 15, 2020

The Irony of American History


“Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.

Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith.

Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love.

No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our standpoint. Therefore, we must be saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.”


--

Reinhold Niebuhr


Saturday, March 14, 2020

I Worried


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 sparrows

can do it and I am, well,

hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,

am I going to get rheumatism,

lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.

And gave it up. And took my old body

and went out into the morning,

and sang.


--Mary Oliver



Friday, March 13, 2020

For Courage

Close your eyes.
Gather all the kindling
About your heart
To create one spark.
That is all you need
To nourish the flame
That will cleanse the dark
Of its weight of festered fear.


--John O'Donohue (Excerpt)



When Worry Showed Up Again

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 ...