come milkweed clusters
your pink butterfly bedrooms
fit for a monarch
“When you stop inventing reality then you see things as they really are… There is a time for inventing reality, and there is a time for being still. At the gate of every new reality, you must be still or you won’t be able to enter properly.
“How do I learn to be still?
“No on can teach you such things. You have to learn for yourself.”
… But when a nation or an individual creates things so sublime – in a sort of permanent genius or inventiveness and delight – when they create things so Continue reading “Ben Okri – my favourite contemporary author”
Mary Oliver is arguably the most significant American poet of the 20th and 21st centuries. Her language is so intentional that it leaves the reader breathless. Every highly crafted sentence is like the brushstroke of Van Gogh, strong and evocative. Nature is the absolute locus of her attachment and its patterns her inspiration.
all the singing is in the tops of the trees
all the singing is in
the tops of the trees
where the wind-bird
with its white eyes
shoves and pushes
among the branches.
Like any of us Continue reading “Mary Oliver singing in treetops”
Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek. [Barack Obama]
And so as we Canadians say good-bye to a man who was able to be a frequent guest at our tables, we wonder. We wonder, not just about the health of our neighbours to the south, we wonder about technology’s fragile beauty and the abuse it receives. We wonder about the health of our home, our most beautiful planet. We wonder about humankind’s pursuit of unmitigated warfare and the greedy quest for power. We wonder about the next generations and how they will bond with truth, beauty and goodness.
Good-bye, President Barack Obama. You will never be forgotten. Perhaps now we shall see the harnessing of the periphery.
Do you ever find yourself thinking in fascinating fragments? Do you feel drawn, magnetically, to certain places and ages in our earth’s history? Do you get insights from elsewhere? Do you find you have developed a theme to your life? Do you think that “theme” is your destiny? And then, of course, do you wonder what destiny really is?
All of this randomness is good. If it happens to you, Continue reading “fragments… magnetisms… insights?”
I looked out the window this morning and saw a wonderful blue penguin waddling down the sidewalk. He was so adorable. I say ‘he’ because of the blue snowsuit. Then I noticed his mother walking a few steps ahead of him… but looking back to check her child frequently. It took me back to how I used to dress 3 children under 4 years in their snowsuits and take them on a toboggan or throw them in the car so I could go swimming while they were baby-sat at the YM-YWCA. I would also take them to Tiny Tots swimming in the winter. So I simply had to take a picture of this little fellow. By the time I got my camera, he and his Mummy were engaged. She was offering to pick him up. He, however, took her hand and walked “independently” along with her. I got my picture, and then they reached the corner. Up went the hands to the mother! Don’t we all wish someone would pick us up in the winter snow?! Dec. 21/16
I can go back to bed now –
the snowstorm is over, it
seems somehow gentler now with no
white-outs and no traffic, no
feet crunching in the too early winter –
I choose instead to see the pure white as
fallen blooms of alabaster magnolia and
shy white hydrangea mixed with florets
of ivory lilac …
so I shall return to my white pillows and sheets of
sleep’s lullaby and in
the new morn waken in the dim memory
of my dream. I’ll run outside to
remember. and then I shall
scoop up the petals of Continue reading “white midnight”
The soul’s path is invisible and unique, found quietly and singly. The path of the ego is visible and common, found noisily and in hordes. To choose the path of the soul is to embrace life and understand death as a transition. To choose the path of the ego is to want power over life and reject or stall or deny death. [from After the Interlude, ellyn & Andrew Ruhl]
Together, during her period of leave-taking and bonds-releasing, we hear the Music of the Concert like some mighty purple thunder blasting the skies open with the sheer force of perfect beauty.
And all this we hear and see and accept in the silence of our one-ness… because one thing we learned and accepted together in the Interlude is that reality happens only in Bach Silence, in the rest between the notes, in the forgotten beginning of the grace note, in the reverberations of the harmony that becomes one with the universe.