“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
~~Kahlil Gibran Lebanese Poet and Novelist
Sunday, August 28, 2011
And forget not.....
“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
~~Kahlil Gibran Lebanese Poet and Novelist
End of Summer by Stanley Kunitz : The Poetry Foundation
End of Summer Stanley Kunitz
An agitation of the air,
I stood in the disenchanted field
Blue poured into summer blue,
That part of my life was over.
A perturbation of the light
Admonished me the unloved year
Would turn on its hinge that night.
I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.
Blue poured into summer blue,
A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
That part of my life was over.
Already the iron door of the north
Clangs open: birds, leaves, snows
Order their populations forth,
And a cruel wind blows.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Every sunset reminds me of the potential within.....
As if we are all canvases, like the perfect dusky sky, just waiting for the person or people with the right brushes...
In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.
~~Albert Schweitzer
~~Albert Schweitzer
Use up lots of paper....or space on your hard drive......
“Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life…Go ahead and make big scrawls and mistakes. Use up lots of paper. Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism; while messes are the artist’s true friend…We need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here.”
-Anne Lamott
-Anne Lamott
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
And it is summer, glorious deep-toned summer....
Summer
by Amy Lowell
Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills.
To me it is not so. I love the earth
And all the gifts of her so lavish hand:
Sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
Thick branches swaying in a winter storm,
And moonlight playing in a boat's wide wake;
But more than these, and much, ah, how much more,
I love the very human heart of man.
Above me spreads the hot, blue mid-day sky,
Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake
Lazily reflecting back the sun,
And scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
Which wanders idly through the nodding ferns.
The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer,
The very crown of nature's changing year
When all her surging life is at its full.
To me alone it is a time of pause,
A void and silent space between two worlds,
When inspiration lags, and feeling sleeps,
Gathering strength for efforts yet to come.
For life alone is creator of life,
And closest contact with the human world
Is like a lantern shining in the night
To light me to a knowledge of myself.
I love the vivid life of winter months
In constant intercourse with human minds,
When every new experience is gain
And on all sides we feel the great world's heart;
The pulse and throb of life which makes us men!
by Amy Lowell
Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills.
To me it is not so. I love the earth
And all the gifts of her so lavish hand:
Sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
Thick branches swaying in a winter storm,
And moonlight playing in a boat's wide wake;
But more than these, and much, ah, how much more,
I love the very human heart of man.
Above me spreads the hot, blue mid-day sky,
Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake
Lazily reflecting back the sun,
And scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
Which wanders idly through the nodding ferns.
The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer,
The very crown of nature's changing year
When all her surging life is at its full.
To me alone it is a time of pause,
A void and silent space between two worlds,
When inspiration lags, and feeling sleeps,
Gathering strength for efforts yet to come.
For life alone is creator of life,
And closest contact with the human world
Is like a lantern shining in the night
To light me to a knowledge of myself.
I love the vivid life of winter months
In constant intercourse with human minds,
When every new experience is gain
And on all sides we feel the great world's heart;
The pulse and throb of life which makes us men!
Standing on my own two feet
You Learn
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn...
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth...
And you learn and learn...
With every good-bye you learn.
~~Jorge Luis Borges
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn...
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth...
And you learn and learn...
With every good-bye you learn.
~~Jorge Luis Borges
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Time, Timing, Timeless
If, like Jim Croce, I could save time in a bottle, I would save some of the days I have experienced this summer. Maybe it is just timing. I find myself in a new life where both my children drive, I am a teacher and I was not heading into an office every day, and I am experiencing a mindfulness I have not before. During this gift of time I have witnessed timeless events, like bees collecting pollen for flowers. It is not just that though, I have stood there, observing them collect the pollen, moving from flower to flower, until their leg sacks are so full their flying capability is somewhat altered. I have watched them bee line (no pun intended) from flower to flower and then flying back to their hive along the most circuitous path, dipping and diving under the weight they now bear. Time, timing, timeless.
Time in a Bottle
~Jim Croce
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go through time with
If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go through time with.
Time in a Bottle
~Jim Croce
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day 'til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go through time with
If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go through time with.
It certainly is.....
Good Life
~~OneRepublic
Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Don't really know how I got here
I got some pictures on my phone
New names and numbers that I don't know
Address to places like Abbey Road
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want
We're young enough to say
Oh this has gotta be a good life
This has gotta be a good life
This could really be a good life, good life
Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire 'night
This could really be a good life
A good, good life
To my friends in New York, I say hello
My friends in L.A. they don't know
Where I've been for the past few years or so
Paris to China to Col-or-ado
Sometimes there's airplanes I can' t jump out
Sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now
We are god of stories but please tell me-e-e-e
What there is to complain about
When you're happy like a fool
Let it take you over
When everything is out
You gotta take it in
Oh this has gotta be a good life
This has gotta be a good life
This could really be a good life, good life
http://www.elyricsworld.com/good_life_lyrics_one_republic.html
Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire 'night
This could really be a good life
A good, good life
Hopelessly
I feel like there might be something that I'll miss
Hopelessly
I feel like the window closes oh so quick
Hopelessly
I'm taking a mental picture of you now
'Cuz hopelessly, hopelessly
I have so much to feel good about
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
~~OneRepublic
Woke up in London yesterday
Found myself in the city near Piccadilly
Don't really know how I got here
I got some pictures on my phone
New names and numbers that I don't know
Address to places like Abbey Road
Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want
We're young enough to say
Oh this has gotta be a good life
This has gotta be a good life
This could really be a good life, good life
Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire 'night
This could really be a good life
A good, good life
To my friends in New York, I say hello
My friends in L.A. they don't know
Where I've been for the past few years or so
Paris to China to Col-or-ado
Sometimes there's airplanes I can' t jump out
Sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now
We are god of stories but please tell me-e-e-e
What there is to complain about
When you're happy like a fool
Let it take you over
When everything is out
You gotta take it in
Oh this has gotta be a good life
This has gotta be a good life
This could really be a good life, good life
http://www.elyricsworld.com/good_life_lyrics_one_republic.html
Say oh, got this feeling that you can't fight
Like this city is on fire 'night
This could really be a good life
A good, good life
Hopelessly
I feel like there might be something that I'll miss
Hopelessly
I feel like the window closes oh so quick
Hopelessly
I'm taking a mental picture of you now
'Cuz hopelessly, hopelessly
I have so much to feel good about
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Seeing the Light
Literally and figuratively.....below are my attempts to celebrate the beauty of light.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)