Archive for the ‘beauty’ Category

This is  today’s    vibe,  again, it   matches the  weather, which is cold, grey,  watching  for snow (or not)…
In My House
by Mary Oliver
In my house lives the most beautiful wild animal.
Bus she is sad.
She has lost her forest.
She has lost her tribe.
Her very language is almost gone, dissolved
in sorrow and disuse.
What can you do to comfort such a creature?
She stares out of the windows and longs to go somewhere —-
but where?
The nothingness of the days exhausts her.
Have you ever seen an animal weep?
When I touch her she looks at me with that
lost world in her eyes —
hopeful, but trembling.

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“If man could only bear in mind that every simple little imaginal act sends a quiver through Omniscience, right through Omnipotence, and right through Immanence so the whole thing is like a huge, big computer, — your imaginal act instantly is added to the sum total of it all; and instantly the whole. thing is changed, and the world is reflecting every imaginal act in this world of man, and keeping it all perfectly recorded, so that there is no such thing as a natural cause. It is all a spiritual cause.”

~neville  goddard

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Someone I know recently    made  a    beautiful  comment  about  my  hands.  This  post  was inspired  by them.  Thank  you,  JM.   ~kmk
“Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.”
Rumi, The Essential Rumi

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It’s  early   yet, for the  peonies  to   bloom. But I am already  thinking about them,  hence this  poem,  which I wrote one spring as I watched  some  peony flowers I had  brought in slowly dismember.   My  favorite is Festiva Maxima. If I   had my  druthers, I would  have a whole   bed of these.  One    place where  you   might find them  is here: http://finagardenspeonies.com/White.html


The white peony petals
lie in a heap.

They have fallen off their centers.

A mass letting go –
like a sudden downpour
of unexpected rain,
or tears.

What to do with these petals?

I still see beauty in these
fallen, dismembered flowers.

What to do with these petals
that to some look like refuse?

Do I make a bed of these petals
and lie upon it,
to see how long
their cool, silky touch
will last?

Do I scatter them to my garden
letting these white delicacies
feed it?

Do I press them,
so I can hold onto to this beauty,
and the memory of
this scent that I love to bury my nose in?

The same dilemma, every year.
In the end, it’s always a letting go.

Next Spring
I will study their round firm heads,
and wait
for the day that I can
embrace this pleasure
all over again.

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