Posted in Aging, Art journal, Beginnings, Change, Covid-19, Earth, Eastern Shore, Exploring, Gifts, Gratitude, Heartfulness, Home, In these strange times, Life, Love, Maryland, Mindfulness, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Portals & Pathways, Sky, Spirit, Spiritual practices, The Body Beautiful, Walking & Wandering, Water, Winter, Wonder, Woods, Word/Theme for the Year, Words, Yoga

Joy in the body

A weekend sunset at the Point.

Winter: Tonight: Sunset
by David Budbill

Tonight at sunset walking on the snowy road,
my shoes crunching on the frozen gravel, first

through the woods, then out into the open fields
past a couple of trailers and some pickup trucks, I stop

and look at the sky. Suddenly: orange, red, pink, blue,
green, purple, yellow, gray, all at once and everywhere.

I pause in this moment at the beginning of my old age
and I say a prayer of gratitude for getting to this evening

a prayer for being here, today, now, alive
in this life, in this evening, under this sky.

(“Winter: Tonight: Sunset” by David Budbill, from While We’ve Still Got Feet. © Copper Canyon Press,  2005.)

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Posted in Beginnings, Change, Climate Change, Covid-19, Earth, Eastern Shore, Endings, Exploring, Family, Gifts, Grandparenthood, Gratitude, Heartfulness, Home, In these strange times, Life, Love, Maryland, Mindfulness, Nature, Ohio, Photography, Portals & Pathways, Quotes, Spirit, Spiritual practices, The Bogs, Travel, Walking & Wandering, Water, Weather, Winter, Wonder, Woods, Word/Theme for the Year, Words

At home

The front yard, the front of the house, and the pond escaping its usual confines.

I’ve always tried to make a home for myself, but I have not felt at home in myself. I’ve worked hard at being the hero of my own life. But every time I checked the register of displaced persons, I was still on it. I didn’t know how to belong. Longing? Yes. Belonging? No.

~ Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

When you are born–what you are born into, the place, the history of the place, how that history mates with your own– stamps who you are, whatever the pundits of globalisation have to say.

~ Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

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Posted in Aging, Change, Covid-19, Earth, Eastern Shore, Exploring, Fire, Garden, Gifts, Gratitude, Health & Well-Being, Heartfulness, Home, In these strange times, Life, Love, Lovingkindness, Maryland, Meditation, Metta, Mindfulness, Nature, Other than human, Photography, Quotes, Spirit, Spring, Walking & Wandering, Water, Weather, Wonder, Words, Writing

Oh, the joy

New blooms.

Healing does not require that you master the unreasonable side of your reason. Nor does healing require inner perfection of any order. A common trait shared by people who have healed is that they cease being unreasonable in ways that no longer matter in the greater scheme of life. Against the scale of life or death, how important is winning an argument? How important is holding a grudge? How important is anything other than how well we love others, how deeply we regard the value of the gift of life, and what we do with our life that makes this world a better place?

~ Caroline Myss

I believe our survival demands revolution, both cultural and political. If we are to survive the disasters that threaten, and survive our own struggle to make it new – a struggle I believe we have no choice but to commit ourselves to – we need tremendous transfusions of imaginative energy. If it is indeed revolution we are moving toward, we need life, and abundantly – we need poems of the spirit, to inform us of the essential, to help us live the revolution. And if instead it be the Last Days – then we need to taste the dearest, freshest drops before we die – why bother with anything less than that, the essential?

~ Denise Levertov, The Poet in the World

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Posted in Art journal, Change, Covid-19, Earth, Eastern Shore, Exploring, Gifts, Gratitude, Heartfulness, In these strange times, Life, Listening, Maryland, Metta, Mindfulness, Nature, Other than human, Photography, Poetry, Portals & Pathways, Quotes, Sky, Spirit, Spiritual practices, Walking & Wandering, Water, Weather, Winter, Wonder, Words, Writing, Yoga

Matins

Morning has broken.  (Groundhog Day)
mat·ins
/ˈmatnz/
noun
  1. a service of morning prayer in various churches, especially the Anglican Church.
    • a service forming part of the traditional Divine Office of the Western Christian Church, originally said (or chanted) at or after midnight, but historically often held with lauds on the previous evening.
    • LITERARY
      the morning song of birds.

Matins

~an excerpt from Morning Prayer Poem by John O’Donohue

1
Somewhere, out at the edges, the night
Is turning and the waves of darkness
Begin to brighten the shore of dawn

The heavy dark falls back to earth
And the freed air goes wild with light,
The heart fills with fresh, bright breath
And thoughts stir to give birth to color.

2
I arise today

In the name of Silence
Womb of the Word,
In the name of Stillness
Home of Belonging,
In the name of the Solitude
Of the Soul and the Earth.

(You can find the rest of this beautiful poem here.)

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Posted in Air, Autumn, Change, Covid-19, Earth, Eastern Shore, Exploring, Garden, Gifts, Gratitude, Heartfulness, In these strange times, Life, Maryland, Mindfulness, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Quotes, Spirit, Walking & Wandering, Walktober, Wonder

Walktober begins today

Sumac putting on her autumn colors.

Let’s take a walk. You can show me some of your memories and I’ll show you some of mine.

~ Adam Berlin, Number of Missing

Who can open the door who does not reach for the latch?
Who can travel the miles who does not put one foot
in front of the other, all attentive to what presents itself
continually?
Who will behold the inner chamber who has not observed
with admiration, even with rapture, the outer stone?

Well, there is time left —
fields everywhere invite you into them.

And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away
from wherever you are, to look for your soul?

~ Mary Oliver, excerpted from Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches?, West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems

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