Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Things Not Possible
Things Not Possible
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels . . .
Lisel Mueller
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to accept these things
that are not possible
as real.
Only yesterday
a friend was telling me
how after her father died
his photograph appeared
on her computer
each morning as she
came down
for her coffee.
And when her mother died
it was she whose picture
came daily.
And when her beloved aunt
died, her likeness came through,
the single one of her among the many
others (family picnics, new babies,
dogs and cats and horses) on the machine.
When I asked my friend
how that could happen,
she said she didn't know
and didn't need to know.
She loved them all
and was happy she got to
greet them so often
even after they
were "gone."
Dorothy Walters
December 30, 2019
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels . . .
Lisel Mueller
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to accept these things
that are not possible
as real.
Only yesterday
a friend was telling me
how after her father died
his photograph appeared
on her computer
each morning as she
came down
for her coffee.
And when her mother died
it was she whose picture
came daily.
And when her beloved aunt
died, her likeness came through,
the single one of her among the many
others (family picnics, new babies,
dogs and cats and horses) on the machine.
When I asked my friend
how that could happen,
she said she didn't know
and didn't need to know.
She loved them all
and was happy she got to
greet them so often
even after they
were "gone."
Dorothy Walters
December 30, 2019
Monday, December 30, 2019
"Christmas in Tucson"––Patricia LeBon Herb
Christmas in Tucson
The Exchange
Her long black and white
hair running down her
shoulders, like a creek
with all its mysteries.
Brown eyes, kind
like a bear waking
to a new morning.
She wore a crisp white
shirt with blue jeans
and pretty light tan
cowboy boots.
You could not miss
her silver and turquoise
belt buckle with an
engraved claw, which
was an invitation to see
the fine craftsmanship
of the Tohono O'odham
and Navajo Indians,
inside a small trading post
store called The Coyote
on a dusty desolate road
not far outside of town
in the month of December.
Behind a glass counter
displayed were red clay pots
on small colorful weavings
along with friendship
baskets and hand crafted
artifacts. I was surprised
to find sweetgrass in the
region and traded with the
elder woman green frog
skin for it. In exchange she
handed me the braid with
some coins. She noticed
my Ojibwa beaded earrings.
There was really nothing
more to say. She gave
me thoughts for a life time.
I lit the sweetgrass on
Christmas day.
- Ziibinkokwe, Turtle Clan (Patricia LeBon Herb)
The Exchange
Her long black and white
hair running down her
shoulders, like a creek
with all its mysteries.
Brown eyes, kind
like a bear waking
to a new morning.
She wore a crisp white
shirt with blue jeans
and pretty light tan
cowboy boots.
You could not miss
her silver and turquoise
belt buckle with an
engraved claw, which
was an invitation to see
the fine craftsmanship
of the Tohono O'odham
and Navajo Indians,
inside a small trading post
store called The Coyote
on a dusty desolate road
not far outside of town
in the month of December.
Behind a glass counter
displayed were red clay pots
on small colorful weavings
along with friendship
baskets and hand crafted
artifacts. I was surprised
to find sweetgrass in the
region and traded with the
elder woman green frog
skin for it. In exchange she
handed me the braid with
some coins. She noticed
my Ojibwa beaded earrings.
There was really nothing
more to say. She gave
me thoughts for a life time.
I lit the sweetgrass on
Christmas day.
- Ziibinkokwe, Turtle Clan (Patricia LeBon Herb)
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Matthew Fox––Science and Spirituality
Matthew Fox
Honoring the Light - Part III
Meditation #232, December 29, 2019
Science and Spirituality, Deep Ecumenism
Our spiritual traditions world over honor light as an expression of the Divine. Consider the African tradition.
“Beautiful you rise, O eternal living god!
You are radiant, lovely, powerful,
Your love is great, all-encompassing.
Your rays make all radiant,
Your brightness gives life to hearts,
When you fill the Two Lands with your love.”
To talk of Creation is to talk about light. This is evident in so many creation stories from that of Akhenaten in Egypt above to that of Genesis and Psalm 104 and the prologue to John’s Gospel in the Bible as well as mystical works of Judaism such as the Zohar and the Kaballah and also today’s Creation story from science. Let us revisit the latter.
The originating power that brought forth a universe made reality such that stars, lizards and supernovas would all blaze with the same numinous energy that flared forth at the dawn of time. The first of the atoms, hydrogen, was special because photons or light waves could pass through them without ever being obstructed. Hydrogen becomes a special conductor for light to move through.The eventual birth of supernovas was an explosive light burst, whose intensity outshines even a galaxy of two hundred billion stars.
Albert Einstein said in the early part of the last century that “all I want to do is study light.” As the century drew to a close, we could begin to glimpse what science is learning through light and about light. Light drives all energy systems. Plants and we eat light, breathe light, drink light and transform light into energy. Light is far more prevalent in the universe than is matter—indeed, for every molecule of matter there are one billion particles of light!
The Egyptian prayers to the sun as well as the aboriginal rituals that follow the sun’s path from rising to setting are seeming more and more wise every day. Part of the scientific contribution to light at this time in human history is to insist on the need to become sustainable again.
Climate crisis is telling us in very loud terms that we are on a death path—the medicine includes the practical application of solar awareness. Sun energies are uniquely renewable and sustainable—the time when humans ran their enterprises on fossil fuels coming to a close. We must rediscover light or perish.
If we are to fit into creation once again instead of attempting to stand outside it and control it (and in the process killing it), then we must imitate nature’s source of energy. As physicist Fritjof Capra puts it: Ecosystems differ from individual organisms in that they are…open with respect to the flow of energy. The primary source for that flow of energy is the sun. Solar energy, transformed into chemical energy by the photosynthesis of green plants, drives most ecological cycles.
Adapted from Matthew Fox, One River, Many Wells: Wisdom Springing from Global Faiths.
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Small Things Unfurling––poem by Dorothy
Small Things Unfurling––poem by Dorothy
Mostly it is when a small thing
suddenly becomes a large thing,
a tiny fist of paper
suddenly unfurls
and you witness
a whole new landscape,
or a quiet piece of music
swells to a crescendo
of feeling
or a so so movie
enthralls
in the final scenes.
We never know
when the leaves
will tremble
right into our
hearts,
or the person we
are meeting
for the first time
awakens memories
of past lives together
and we in turn
begin to vibrate,
trembling
like the leaves,
or feeling as though
we are, finally,
after so many years,
going to levitate,
just like the monk
in the story.
Dorothy Walters
December 23, 2019
Mostly it is when a small thing
suddenly becomes a large thing,
a tiny fist of paper
suddenly unfurls
and you witness
a whole new landscape,
or a quiet piece of music
swells to a crescendo
of feeling
or a so so movie
enthralls
in the final scenes.
We never know
when the leaves
will tremble
right into our
hearts,
or the person we
are meeting
for the first time
awakens memories
of past lives together
and we in turn
begin to vibrate,
trembling
like the leaves,
or feeling as though
we are, finally,
after so many years,
going to levitate,
just like the monk
in the story.
Dorothy Walters
December 23, 2019
Billy Collins––Shoveling Snow with Buddha
Shoveling Snow With Buddha––Billy Collins
In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.
Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.
Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?
But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.
This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.
He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.
All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.
After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?
Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.
Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.
~ Billy Collins ~
(Picnic, Lightning)
Friday, December 27, 2019
Awakening Now––poem by Danna Faulds
Awakening Now by Danna Faulds
Why wait for your awakening?
The moment your eyes are open, seize the day.
Would you hold back when the Beloved beckons?
Would you deliver your litany of sins like a child’s collection of sea shells, prized and labeled?
“No, I can’t step across the threshold,” you say, eyes downcast.
“I’m not worthy” I’m afraid, and my motives aren’t pure.
I’m not perfect, and surely I haven’t practiced nearly enough.
My meditation isn’t deep, and my prayers are sometimes insincere.
I still chew my fingernails, and the refrigerator isn’t clean.
“Do you value your reasons for staying small more than the light shining through the open door?
Forgive yourself.
Now is the only time you have to be whole.
Now is the sole moment that exists to live in the light of your true Self.
Perfection is not a prerequisite for anything but pain.
Please, oh please, don’t continue to believe in your disbelief.
This is the day of your awakening.
Why wait for your awakening?
The moment your eyes are open, seize the day.
Would you hold back when the Beloved beckons?
Would you deliver your litany of sins like a child’s collection of sea shells, prized and labeled?
“No, I can’t step across the threshold,” you say, eyes downcast.
“I’m not worthy” I’m afraid, and my motives aren’t pure.
I’m not perfect, and surely I haven’t practiced nearly enough.
My meditation isn’t deep, and my prayers are sometimes insincere.
I still chew my fingernails, and the refrigerator isn’t clean.
“Do you value your reasons for staying small more than the light shining through the open door?
Forgive yourself.
Now is the only time you have to be whole.
Now is the sole moment that exists to live in the light of your true Self.
Perfection is not a prerequisite for anything but pain.
Please, oh please, don’t continue to believe in your disbelief.
This is the day of your awakening.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
Breath––poem by Dorothy
Breath
You are the bow that shoots the arrows
and you are the target.
Rilke Sonnets to Orpheus)
Yes, it is breath
and yet more than breath.
It is what flows through
the veins
when we are not looking,
rivers of delight,
cascades of feeling.
It is that bird
looking at me
as I look at it,
it is the sky
enfolding me,
vastness beyond
my capacity to say.
And yet it is also breath,
what anchors me
to this plane of earth,
what sustains me here
and perhaps in
that other unknown
and unknowable realm,
that guessed at
and surmised,
that undetected and yet
surely awaiting
realm,
as familiar as rain,
as certain as sunrise.
Dorothy Walters
December 23, 2019
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
Larry Robinson––"A Christmas Carol" (poem)
A Christmas Carol
Away in a manger
or a crack house
or under a bridge
or in a bombed-out village
or a refugee camp
or in the mesquite shade close to the border wall
some Mary is giving birth.
Even as you read this
a child is being born.
What if one of these were the promised one,
the beacon of hope,
the seed of a new light
in a dark time?
What if they all were?
What gifts would you bring
if you were wise?
- Larry Robinson
Away in a manger
or a crack house
or under a bridge
or in a bombed-out village
or a refugee camp
or in the mesquite shade close to the border wall
some Mary is giving birth.
Even as you read this
a child is being born.
What if one of these were the promised one,
the beacon of hope,
the seed of a new light
in a dark time?
What if they all were?
What gifts would you bring
if you were wise?
- Larry Robinson
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Rilke––Sonnets to Orpheus, Part One, IV
Sonnets to Orpheus, Part One, IV
You who let yourselves feel: enter the breathing
that is more than your own.
Let it brush your cheeks
as it divides and rejoins beside you.
Blessed ones, whole ones,
you where the heart begins:
You are the bow that shoots the arrows
and you are the target.
Fear not the pain. Let its weight fall back
into the earth;
for heavy are the mountains, heavy the seas.
The trees you planted in childhood have grown
too heavy. You cannot bring them along.
Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~
(In Praise of Mortality, translated and edited by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)
Monday, December 23, 2019
Stephanie Marohn––"Solstice Message"
Stephanie Marohn is a literary editor and also someone who maintains an animal shelter for large animals. She does energetic healing for animals, both in person and long distance. She is one of my oldest and most beloved friends.
Solstice Message
When the world is full of hate
Remember love
When the world is full of abuse
Remember kindness
When the world is full of disregard
Remember caring
When the world is full of corruption
Remember integrity
When the world is full of greed
Remember generosity
When the world is full of confusion
Remember clarity
When the world is full of fear
Remember courage
When the world is full of despair
Remember hope
On this winter solstice
time of reflection
Reflect on the beauty of humans
when they walk in grace
And remember those who chose that path
even in the darkest night
Wishing you a year of joy and peace,
Stephanie and the animals
Website: www.stephaniemarohn.com
Solstice Message
When the world is full of hate
Remember love
When the world is full of abuse
Remember kindness
When the world is full of disregard
Remember caring
When the world is full of corruption
Remember integrity
When the world is full of greed
Remember generosity
When the world is full of confusion
Remember clarity
When the world is full of fear
Remember courage
When the world is full of despair
Remember hope
On this winter solstice
time of reflection
Reflect on the beauty of humans
when they walk in grace
And remember those who chose that path
even in the darkest night
Wishing you a year of joy and peace,
Stephanie and the animals
Website: www.stephaniemarohn.com
Sunday, December 22, 2019
Sally Kempton––Thoughts at Solstice
Sally Kempton––Thoughts at Solstice
Dear Dorothy,
The Winter Solstice is a cosmic vortex. It's a time when the mystical forces of transformation are deeply present for those of us who know how to call them. Yes, it's also a social time—as many of you may be immersed in holiday shopping, social events, and year-end cleanup (or beach holidays if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere!) But if you can be sensitive to the quality of this time, it can be a powerful opportunity for an inner reset.
For many of us, this solstice is the culmination of an intense year. Some of you may have experienced triumphs in 2019. For others, the year might have been really really hard. Or, as it is for most of us, somewhere in between. Whatever the year was like for you, you have a chance right now to bless and release the struggles and the triumphs of the year past and to intuit and intend the direction for the year to come—a year that promises to be filled with change.
Like me, you probably intuit that 2020 promises to be a time of great change, even revolutionary change. We can see now the harbingers all around us, and we don't know now how it will all play out. That's why it's so important, at this time when the energies of the old year are departing, and the energies of the new year are gathering that we use this time to clarify our own intentions. I'm very excited to be coming together with so many of you for the coming Solstice Teleseminar. The emphasis is on releasing and transforming, on letting go and letting in, on touching into the love that streams from higher realms at this time of year, and allowing it to fill our bodies and illuminate our minds.
The year 2020, and the new decade is waiting for us, filled with gifts and challenges and above all, with opportunities for awakening. We get to open to it now by releasing what we no longer need, and by inviting the light of our highest promise to unfold within us.
Dear Dorothy,
The Winter Solstice is a cosmic vortex. It's a time when the mystical forces of transformation are deeply present for those of us who know how to call them. Yes, it's also a social time—as many of you may be immersed in holiday shopping, social events, and year-end cleanup (or beach holidays if you are living in the Southern Hemisphere!) But if you can be sensitive to the quality of this time, it can be a powerful opportunity for an inner reset.
For many of us, this solstice is the culmination of an intense year. Some of you may have experienced triumphs in 2019. For others, the year might have been really really hard. Or, as it is for most of us, somewhere in between. Whatever the year was like for you, you have a chance right now to bless and release the struggles and the triumphs of the year past and to intuit and intend the direction for the year to come—a year that promises to be filled with change.
Like me, you probably intuit that 2020 promises to be a time of great change, even revolutionary change. We can see now the harbingers all around us, and we don't know now how it will all play out. That's why it's so important, at this time when the energies of the old year are departing, and the energies of the new year are gathering that we use this time to clarify our own intentions. I'm very excited to be coming together with so many of you for the coming Solstice Teleseminar. The emphasis is on releasing and transforming, on letting go and letting in, on touching into the love that streams from higher realms at this time of year, and allowing it to fill our bodies and illuminate our minds.
The year 2020, and the new decade is waiting for us, filled with gifts and challenges and above all, with opportunities for awakening. We get to open to it now by releasing what we no longer need, and by inviting the light of our highest promise to unfold within us.
Saturday, December 21, 2019
John O'Donohue––A Blessing
John O'Donohue
via Anam Cara Meditation Foundation
May you awaken to the mystery of being here and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.
May you have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.
May you receive great encouragement when new frontiers beckon.
May you respond to the call of your gift and find the courage to follow its path.
May the flame of anger free you from falsity.
May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame and may anxiety never linger about you.
May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul.
May you take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention.
May you be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.
May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder.
John O'Donohue
A Blessing, Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong
Friday, December 20, 2019
Fred LaMotte––I Love Jesus (poem)
from Fred LaMotte
I love Jesus. I love the Pagan Solstice Christmas pine. I love Mother Earth, I love Goddess Shakti. I love my Buddha-heart. I love freedom from religious authority. I love the perfect consistency of my contradictions. I love luscious berries of fire and mistletoe clustered on the cross of paradox. I love the tree of life, where I am ripening fruit. I love the newborn sun.
And I love what my body says to my soul. "Every particle of me is made of Matter, Mater, Mother Dust, each atom a cathedral where pilgrims arrive from the stars to celebrate the miracle of flesh. O my soul, You irradiate the world through me. I am your dance. Let there be no more talk of our difference." And so after thousands of years of religious combat, my body and my soul are Christalized in one magnum mysterium.
And where does this mystery occur? In the nameless roadside shrine of my chest, in a flame that never stops burning yet has never been lit until Now. Here I celebrate the birth of God, who is this Breath.
________
I love Jesus. I love the Pagan Solstice Christmas pine. I love Mother Earth, I love Goddess Shakti. I love my Buddha-heart. I love freedom from religious authority. I love the perfect consistency of my contradictions. I love luscious berries of fire and mistletoe clustered on the cross of paradox. I love the tree of life, where I am ripening fruit. I love the newborn sun.
And I love what my body says to my soul. "Every particle of me is made of Matter, Mater, Mother Dust, each atom a cathedral where pilgrims arrive from the stars to celebrate the miracle of flesh. O my soul, You irradiate the world through me. I am your dance. Let there be no more talk of our difference." And so after thousands of years of religious combat, my body and my soul are Christalized in one magnum mysterium.
And where does this mystery occur? In the nameless roadside shrine of my chest, in a flame that never stops burning yet has never been lit until Now. Here I celebrate the birth of God, who is this Breath.
________
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Rumi, You Rascal––Rumi Poems 9
Rumi Poems––9
Rumi, you rascal,
I know you are sending
me messages,
too numerous
to count.
O.K., let's be up front
with all this.
You keep on speaking
as you twirl,
and I
am learning to fly.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
This is the last of the Rumi poems. They were written quickly, one after another, on the evening of December 9, after I had been reading some of his quatrains translated by Andrew Harvey. I did not know ( nor was I concerned about) how they would be received. Last night I met someone who told me that she indeed loved them. That was reassuring to me. If a poem finds a singer reader who resonates with it, that is sufficient reward.
(Image from internet)
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Somewhere out There––Rumi Poems 8
Rumi Poems 8
Somewhere out there,
is someone
sending signals.
I am the receiver
trying to catch
all the messages,
hoping the static will clear.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Somewhere out there,
is someone
sending signals.
I am the receiver
trying to catch
all the messages,
hoping the static will clear.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
This Scandal Between Us––Rumi Poems 7
This scandal between us––Rumi Poems 7
This scandal between us
has going on for years.
Will it continue
in the other realm?
The place where
it all began?
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
This scandal between us
has going on for years.
Will it continue
in the other realm?
The place where
it all began?
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Monday, December 16, 2019
I Don't Know--Rumi Poems 6
Rumi Poems
6. I don't know
what pulled me to you.
Your love magnet
could not be resisted.
Your net of longing
flung so wide,
captured me,
made me your willing slave.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
6. I don't know
what pulled me to you.
Your love magnet
could not be resisted.
Your net of longing
flung so wide,
captured me,
made me your willing slave.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Sometimes I almost glimpse you
Rumi poems
5. Sometimes I almost glimpse you
just disappearing around the corner
of my eye.
Mostly you come invisibly,
like a wind ghost
crying in the pines
nearby.
Dorothy Walters
December 15, 2019
5. Sometimes I almost glimpse you
just disappearing around the corner
of my eye.
Mostly you come invisibly,
like a wind ghost
crying in the pines
nearby.
Dorothy Walters
December 15, 2019
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Do you live in me?
Rumi Poems
4. Do you live in me,
or I in you?
Have we been together
always,
or recently met?
What will happen
if we mate?
What progeny
will we produce?
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
4. Do you live in me,
or I in you?
Have we been together
always,
or recently met?
What will happen
if we mate?
What progeny
will we produce?
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Friday, December 13, 2019
If you want me
Rumi Poems
3. If you want me
If you want me
I will lie down
and wait for you
to come.
If you wish to whisper
secrets
into my ear,
I will speak them
for the world to hear.
If you like to say poems,
I will be your scribe,
your dedicated amanuensis,
your tongue of fire.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
3. If you want me
If you want me
I will lie down
and wait for you
to come.
If you wish to whisper
secrets
into my ear,
I will speak them
for the world to hear.
If you like to say poems,
I will be your scribe,
your dedicated amanuensis,
your tongue of fire.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Thursday, December 12, 2019
2. Our Meetings were in Secret
Rumi Poems
2. Our meetings were in secret.
Such things are not to be told.
Yet I keep breaking my vow
of silence,
spreading the news abroad,
cracking the world's heart
wide open.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
The Rum Poems––1. If I had Known
These poems are for Rumi, my constant inspiration, teacher and friend.
1. If I had known
what this journey demanded,
I would never have come here
to this place with no name
or designation.
Oh, well,
let me be honest.
Wild horses
could not have
kept me away.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
1. If I had known
what this journey demanded,
I would never have come here
to this place with no name
or designation.
Oh, well,
let me be honest.
Wild horses
could not have
kept me away.
Dorothy Walters
December 9, 2019
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Back home!
I was in the hospital for two nights while various tests were run for heart function. All turned out well. I continue to progress by doing my simply routine of keeping my feet elevated, wearing legs bandaged, and drinking much water.
M internet went out just before I left and I just got it reconnected this morning. So, I am now back home and have a functioning internet connection. So sorry to be gone and so happy to be home.
M internet went out just before I left and I just got it reconnected this morning. So, I am now back home and have a functioning internet connection. So sorry to be gone and so happy to be home.
Tuesday, December 03, 2019
Alice Walker––Blessed are the Weird
Blessed Are The Weird
November 30 at 5:13 PM ·
“Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us, unless we stumbled on a book or a person who explained to us, that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger, spiritually, than we were before. Whenever we grow, we tend to feel it, as a young seed must feel the weight and inertia of the earth as it seeks to break out of its shell on its way to becoming a plant. Often the feeling is anything but pleasant. But what is most unpleasant is the not knowing what is happening. Those long periods when something inside ourselves seems to be waiting, holding its breath, unsure about what the next step should be, eventually become the periods we wait for, for it is in those periods that we realize that we are being prepared for the next phase of our life and that, in all probability, a new level of the personality is about to be revealed.”
— Alice Walker
November 30 at 5:13 PM ·
“Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us, unless we stumbled on a book or a person who explained to us, that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger, spiritually, than we were before. Whenever we grow, we tend to feel it, as a young seed must feel the weight and inertia of the earth as it seeks to break out of its shell on its way to becoming a plant. Often the feeling is anything but pleasant. But what is most unpleasant is the not knowing what is happening. Those long periods when something inside ourselves seems to be waiting, holding its breath, unsure about what the next step should be, eventually become the periods we wait for, for it is in those periods that we realize that we are being prepared for the next phase of our life and that, in all probability, a new level of the personality is about to be revealed.”
— Alice Walker
Monday, December 02, 2019
Bruce Silverman––Giving Thanks
Giving Thanks At The Turning Of The Seasons
At times I’ve imagined that there lived a little
man, a gnome, that having awakened from his
quarterly nap, rubbed his eyes, and from his
underground hollow festooned with oak
leaves and prayer grottos, tugged upon a rope
that shifted a huge gear and so transformed
the bewildering heat of Indian summers into
crisp fall mornings where persimmon trees
started dropping their orange leaves as they
offered us the perfect gift of their seasonal fruit.
Then I remembered the earth’s tilt, and the
predictable gambit of light and dark and our
planet’s precise distance from the star at the
center of our galaxy that sustains humans,
the curious fruits of this corner of the cosmos.
And I reflected upon the scientists revealing
these machinations and remembered that,
somehow, even those sober physicists with
skinny black ties, knew that the whirling of
moons and seasons and galaxies were a part
of some great ongoing feast, and that this
turning should be called the Milky Way.
And that gnome living under this hallowed
earth is the gatekeeper who, like us, lives
between the bewildering questions of this
world and the open arms of a great loving
mother who feeds so many, but not all of
us. So this prayer of thanksgiving comes
with a caveat.
- Bruce Silverman
At times I’ve imagined that there lived a little
man, a gnome, that having awakened from his
quarterly nap, rubbed his eyes, and from his
underground hollow festooned with oak
leaves and prayer grottos, tugged upon a rope
that shifted a huge gear and so transformed
the bewildering heat of Indian summers into
crisp fall mornings where persimmon trees
started dropping their orange leaves as they
offered us the perfect gift of their seasonal fruit.
Then I remembered the earth’s tilt, and the
predictable gambit of light and dark and our
planet’s precise distance from the star at the
center of our galaxy that sustains humans,
the curious fruits of this corner of the cosmos.
And I reflected upon the scientists revealing
these machinations and remembered that,
somehow, even those sober physicists with
skinny black ties, knew that the whirling of
moons and seasons and galaxies were a part
of some great ongoing feast, and that this
turning should be called the Milky Way.
And that gnome living under this hallowed
earth is the gatekeeper who, like us, lives
between the bewildering questions of this
world and the open arms of a great loving
mother who feeds so many, but not all of
us. So this prayer of thanksgiving comes
with a caveat.
- Bruce Silverman
