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* Lost – in the forest

ivonprefontaine:

Similar to Val, this is a poem that draws me back to think about it and its meaning. Parker Palmer used this poem in his work to help readers and participants turn inward finding their inner spirit and wisdom that is revealed in moments of quietness and stillness. When we look closely, are present and mindful in life, we see no two trees are the same. It breaks through a statistical malaise of sameness allowing us to see and celebrate the uniqueness that is right in front of us and within us.

Originally posted on Find Your Middle Ground:

Forests, tress and finding ourselves are themes that keep calling for my attention. The redwoods in California have a soulful impact <3

Redwood by Kevin Faber

Redwood photo by Kevin Faber

Lost – by David Wagoner

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

This is haunting and draws me back to it again and again…

View original 21 more words

Morning Mourning Thoughts

ivonprefontaine:

Humans have a tendency to place themselves at the top of the natural pedestal. We fail to see ourselves as part of something and place outside nature and the world. The result is we end up outside relationships with each other. Ways of life as outlined in the wisdom ways such as the Tao, Christianity, Buddhism, Islam and many others point us in the direction we need to go in. We need to let go and want less. When we live in community and share, there is always enough.

Originally posted on Voices from the Margins:

“When people do no follow Tao,
Their horses are harnessed for war,
Their energies are used for destruction,
And many go hungry.
Great troubles come
From not knowing what is enough.
Great conflict arises from wanting too much.
When we know when enough is enough,
There will always be enough.”
(From Diane Dreher, 1990, The Tao of inner peace: A guide to inner and outer peace, p. 126)

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Photo Credit, Ava Hand Johnson – 2013, Photographer – Jnana Hand

“Oftentimes have I heard you speak of the one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world.
But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower that the lowest which in you also.

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The Loon

I woke up Friday morning at about 2:30 AM and could not get back to sleep. Finally, I turned the light on and read from a book by Jacques Derrida. It was not as exotic as hearing a loon out on the lake Mary Oliver writes about, but I found refuge reading about the Derridean concept différance.

The word is a deliberate misspelling of the word difference in French and the verb differer which means both to defer and differ. It is the space and time we defer to what and who is different as we encounter it and them. A person would not hear the difference (différance) in speech, but would see it in print. Still, if I did not know the word, I could easily not see the difference in writing.

Needless to say, I found my way back to sleep in the magical reading I found in the hour or so that lapsed. Today, I recalled the times camping, hiking, fishing, etc. where the loon called and I stopped wondering whether it spoke to me or someone else in that moment? Was it deferring to some difference I could not sense and imagine.

Not quite four a.m., when the rapture of being alive
strikes me from sleep, and I rise
from the comfortable bed and go
to another room, where my books are lined up
in their neat and colorful rows. How

magical they are! I choose one
and open it. Soon
I have wandered in over the waves of the words
to the temple of thought.

And then I hear
outside, over the actual waves, the small,
perfect voice of the loon. He is also awake,
and with his heavy head uplifted he calls out
to the fading moon, to the pink flush
swelling in the east that, soon,
will become the long, reasonable day.

Inside the house
it is still dark, except for the pool of lamplight
in which I am sitting.

I do not close the book.

Neither, for a long while, do I read on.

What Fills Your World?

What Fills Your World?.

There was no re-blog capacity on the site so I went with pressing it. The Inuit song/poem is a great piece and speaks to the smallness of our troubles and the awareness we need to recognize the small gifts we overlook which make life so extraordinary.

The Swedish proverb speaks to the song as in sharing we find more joy and less sorrow. Someone and something is always present with us even when they are not there physically.

Geography Escapes

ivonprefontaine:

Message in a bottle has the sounds of a cast-away poem. We can only hope someone finds the message in their ocean.

Originally posted on raechelsheart:

~

Message In  Bottle

Will It Go To Your Ocean

Sail Communique’

~

View original

I Will Keep Broken Things

Alice Walker wrote what appears to be a long poem, but it is a musing we undertake daily, sometimes without knowing. What are we discarding? It could be, as she recites, we look at material belongings in our house. It could be, as she concludes, the spiritual and hidden phenomena make us who we are.

We are damaged goods, but it is our imperfections that make us perfectly who we are. We look at things in our houses, which to others seem damaged, and we recall stories behind and under the surface. The stories underneath, never fully tellable, reveal themselves in their incompleteness. Each story is sharable to some extent, but it is always our story. Like a tree, the story is revealed in the inner circles and, then, incompletely. In the end, the imperfections that make us perfectly who we are we keep because they enhance our beauty from within.

I will keep
Broken
Things:
The big clay
Pot
With raised
Iguanas
Chasing
Their
Tails;
Two
Of their
Wise

Heads
Sheared
Off;

I will keep
Broken
things:
The old
Slave
Market
Basket
Brought
To my
Door

By Mississippi
A jagged
Hole
Gouged
In its sturdy
Dark
Oak
Side.

I will keep
Broken
things:
The memory
Of
Those
Long
Delicious
Night
Swims
With
You;

I will keep
Broken
things:
In my house
There
Remains
An

Honored
Shelf
On which
I will
Keep
Broken
Things.

Their beauty
Is
They
Need
Not
Ever
Be
‘fixed.’

I will keep
Your
Wild
Free
Laughter
Though
It is now
Missing
Its
Reassuring
And
Graceful
Hinge.

I will keep
Broken
Things:

Thank you
So much!

I will keep
Broken
Things.

I will keep
You:

Pilgrim
Of
Sorrow.

I will keep
Myself.

Beside the temple pond

ivonprefontaine:

I love haiku. There is a presence in the words because they are so carefully chosen and mix so well with the silence in spaces between.

Originally posted on AshiAkira's Blog:

Beside the temple pond

Is the statue of Buddha

Silent as he was

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