A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life.
― Coco Chanel
Tag: Water
Still here
Beauty is the convenient and traditional name of something which art and nature share, and which gives a fairly clear sense to the idea of quality of experience and change of consciousness. I am looking out of my window in an anxious and resentful state of mind, oblivious of my surroundings, brooding perhaps on some damage done to my prestige. Then suddenly I observe a hovering kestrel. In a moment everything is altered. The brooding self with its hurt vanity has disappeared. There is nothing now but kestrel. And when I return to thinking of the other matter it seems less important. And of course this is something which we may also do deliberately: give attention to nature in order to clear our minds of selfish care
Iris Murdoch, on beauty as an occasion of ‘unselfing,’ The Sovereignty of Good (Routledge, 2013)
Watery thoughts and questions
Water has great generosity and humility. It insists on no particular shape. It takes on the shape of whatever contains it: jug, stream, well, river, lake, ocean, tears, rain, mist or moisture. In this sense water holds a wonderful imaginative invitation in it.
The imagination is always drawn to the hidden form of things. Through its patience it coaxes the form to emerge.
….
… the imagination is a faculty that is oblique and indirect. It works to discover the forms of perception and possibility that we need for our journey. Imagination attends to the great flow of life, and in this way it elicits the form of one’s identity as it emerges from the matrix of one’s experience.
text excerpted from © The Four Elements, John O’Donohue (2010, Transworld Ireland, pp 45-46)
What are you scared of?
Meanwhile, at the edge of consciousness, we sense a kind of absence. It is not easy to articulate, but it carries its own dark middle-of-the-night fear, its own harrowing. It’s the sense that we have become disconnected from meaning in a way that we don’t even know how to perceive. We sense it when we worry that we cannot stem the flow of our materialism. We sense it when the pull of our smartphones feels a lot like an addiction. We sense it when we realise that our lives are lived in the controlled climate of air conditioning, but we still don’t want to feel the weather outside.
~ Katherine May, Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age
The Cosmos is filled with precious gems. Each moment you are alive is a gem, shining through and containing earth and sky, water and clouds. It needs you to breathe gently for the miracles to be displayed. Suddenly you hear the birds singing, the pines chanting, see the flowers blooming, the blue sky, the white clouds… We should enjoy our happiness and offer it to everyone. Cherish this very moment… Let go of distress and embrace Life fully in your arms.
~ Thich Nhat Hanh
A Monday meander: Traveling back to the swamp
We are this wondrous walking machine. We have evolved to set one foot in front of the other. We are exquisitely tuned to do this.
~ Paul Salopek
swamp
Our common word swamp comes from a rustic dialect of English, and only became widely used in North America in the seventeenth century. Swamp is a truly popular word, with a broad range of meanings, referring to wet spongy ground and often used interchangeably with bog, marsh, mire, and fen. But in precise usage, swamp refers to land with more trees than a marsh, better drained than a bog. A swamp has stretches of low-lying ground often interspersed with pools and hammocks of raised soil. Swamp water steeps roots and rotting vegetation, and is often colored like tea… Swamps are Noah’s Ark of species, where scores of birds, insects, spiders, and amphibians live in the recesses. A paradise of alligators, muskrats, sometimes bears and panthers, swamps are a significant refuge for wildlife partly because they are of little commercial use unless drained. The Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia and the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia are two of the largest and best known. Swamps are places of overwhelming diversity of life, or primeval, melancholic gloom and ecological subtlety, haunted by poisonous insects, spiders, reptiles, and rare flowers, and sheltering great beauty.
~ Robert Morgan, from Home Ground: Language for an American Landscape
Continue reading “A Monday meander: Traveling back to the swamp”
A few prompts behind
As we apprentice ourselves to the way of nature, we begin to understand that all of life is in a continuous cycle of giving and receiving. It is the honoring of this cycle that makes us feel at home in ourselves and in relation to the rest of nature.
~ Toko-pa Turner, Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home
Many of us feel that longing to return, for a spiritual homecoming. This is not a return to some imaginary past when America was great. It is a return to a relationship with the holy and the wild that echoes the intimacy our ancestors knew, but also heals the wounds that severed us from the rest of our human and more-than-human kinfolk in the first place.
We re-member ourselves back into sacred relationship by responding with an open heart to the Holy Wild who calls us back into communion. It may feel like a series of odd synchronicities — a small bird who lands on the railing close to you and looks you straight in the eye for an instant, a sense of welcoming you can’t explain nor deny when you slow down on your daily walk and notice the saplings and crows as individual beings, or a feeling of being witnessed by other people who are walking a similar path of return.
~ from the Center For Wild Spirituality newsletter
A Monday meander: Understanding
Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.
~James Herriot, James Herriot’s Cat Stories
I have lived with several Zen masters — all of them cats.
~ Eckhart Tolle