the trout run is early this year.
the taste of autumn in the air.
all too beautiful for words.
but words will have to do, as long as we leave enough space in between them for the air to speak.
the Ganaraska River is filled with trout swimming upstream, making their way from Lake Ontario, up through town, over the rocks, past the fisherman. impasse after impasse, there’s no stopping them.
come on they say,
get to the task.
the way is straight and narrow.
i love this poem by Godfrey John:
(Isaiah 54:2; Judges 18:10)
Friend, look close:
beneath your feet
is holy ground.
Under all questions
the heart longs
for a people, a place
in the morning light.
place is community,
whatever lies bright
in each of us.
Now under your hand
a purpose springs.
For place is prayer
in the wilderness.
As you walk the wastes
Love wills in you a sweet land . . .
let love go out of you left and right;
let each secret prayer embrace
the people in you, the desolate.
Place is the practice:
*Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes…Isaiah 54:2
*When ye go, ye shall come unto a people secure, and to a large land: for God hath given it into your hands; a place where there is no want of any thing that is in the earth. Judges 18:10
i loved this video by filmaker, Andrea Dorfman, and poet/singer/songwriter, Tanya Davis called: how to be alone. (click highlighted link to see video.)
there’s such a gentle grace and joy about it: the naturalness of embracing our lives, feeling at home wherever we are, the essence of peace, prayer and praise altogether. Here are some excerpts from the poem:
“If you are at first lonely, be patient.
If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.
Society is afraid of alone though. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after awhile nobody is dating them.
But lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it.
Take silence and respect it.
You could be in an instant surrounded if you need it.”
o…to cultivate the rich spaces of aloneness
the sweeping music of silence
voids giving way to a rush of peace
this passage from Mary Baker Eddy’s writings speaks to it: “My sense of nature’s rich glooms is, that loneness lacks but one charm to make it half divine — a friend, with whom to whisper, “Solitude is sweet.”
every road leads home.
every road leads to God.
every single road
finds you with yourself
finds you in the hands of God
finds you running towards
trying to find
all the things
the simple windswept quiet of your heart
your path prepared
all that is natural
” Once, having been asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, “The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is within you.” Luke 17:20-21
“Into His haven of Soul there enters no element of earth to cast out angels, to silence the right intuition which guides you safely home.” Mary Baker Eddy
it isn’t Saturday yet, but i couldn’t resist posting this poem now. it’s by Fonda Bell Miller published in The Christian Science Monitor
To Do List for Saturday
Vacuum the house
Go for a walk
Find a dragon’s tooth
Use it to write in river sand
Slay the demons of dailiness
Climb a magnolia tree
Wait for the stars to appear
Wash in moonlight
Choose a perfect blossom
Curl up in it and sleep
Wake with wings unfolding
Join a flock of passing birds
Fly into morning light
to “slay the demons of dailiness.” how fantastic is that? makes me think of a favorite quote by M.B. Eddy: “Today my soul can only sing and soar.” today, saturday, every day.
immaculate moment this
air, sky, all
this poem by Doris Peel so captures it:
Summoned by Psaltery, Timbrel, and Harp
It is not said
that mourning shall be turned into non-mourning:
a cessation of suffering, a merciful blank
like the aftermath of a crisis passed.
Nor is there promised
the prolonged privileges of a convalescent
who earns–by the mere feat of survival–the
flowers, the fruit, the ministrations of others.
it is dancing–
dancing–we are called to!
O summoned we are
(from the darkest depths)
to that act of gladness
that elated leap
even the new lamb, come to earth, straightway knows
how to perform: bounding up on stiff little legs
with no more reason for what it does
than the very joy,
still fresh in it,
what it is.
“Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires, that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds.” Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health
“I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it.” Ecclesiastes
this poem by e.e. cummings came tucked in an email from my mom this morning:
may i be gay
like every lark
who lifts his life
from all the dark
who wings his why
and sings an if
of day to yes
the perfect poem for a perfect morning…the air clear and cool, the sky a drunken blue.
to lift our lives from the dark…
to wing our whys…
to sing, to sing,
right past the ifs,
yes, yes, and
“Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.” Psalms 24
“Starting from a higher standpoint, one rises spontaneously, even as light emits light without effort; for “where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Science and Health by Mary Baker Eddy
“God has not given us vast learning to solve all the problems, or unfailing wisdom to direct all the wanderings of our brothers’ lives; but He has given to every one of us the power to be spiritual, and by our spirituality to lift and enlarge and enlighten the lives we touch.” Phillips Brooks