I posted this poem by Mary Oliver several days ago, but her poetry is always so inspiring. The world goes on and we have a place in the family of things.
Monthly Archives: March 2015
We soak in the world and find extraordinary in the ordinary.
Bless the gray mouse
that found her way
into the recycle bin.
Bless her tiny body,
no bigger than my thumb,
huddled and numb
against the hard side.
Bless her bright eye,
a frightened gleaming
that opened to me
and the nest she made
from shredded paper,
all I could offer.
Bless her last hours
alone under the lamp
with food and water near.
Bless this brief life
I might have ended
had she stayed hidden
inside the insulation.
Bless her body returned
to earth, no more
or less than any creature.
I had the opportunity to hear some of John O”Donohue’s poems read by David Whyte who was a friend. It was wonderful and inspiritional. It seems everything O’Donohue wrote took the form of a blessing.
Here are a wonderful image, a beautiful poem, and a Rumi quote to enjoy. There are words that speak only in silence.
These are incredible pictures. The photographer was patient to get all these wonderful and humourous photos. Fact is sometimes better than fiction. Without photoshopping, these images point to the innate curiousity and desire animals have for fun.
Mary Oliver wrote this beautiful poem about sensing and perceiving Nature through direct experiences. Maurice Merleau Ponty wrote about the phenomenology of perception which is the about the way body and its senses act as gateways in perceiving the world. Our body is not an only a thing, it is an object that researches the world.
When we “the soft animal of your body” experience and sense Nature, we are in Nature. We have images for our imagination that fill our hearts and souls so fully. We belong in ways that we cannot as an observer standing outside. We are part of a community that includes all of Nature.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Rules build boundaries. Sometimes we have to break the rules and find out what is outside those walls. It is always easy to play it safe, but so much more fun when we take risks and it works.
I was thinking about breaking the rules…specifically and in general, and this photo seems to fit the theme. If it was me (instead of the snowman), I would probably consider a couple of things before getting to the action. For example, not cutting the branch you are standing under. Or how safe it is to hold the saw barely with your fingertips. What about staying around after all the snow in the town is gone for good…also against the rules, isn’ t it?!
On the second thought…”If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun!” – Katharine Hepburn
Be inspired and inspire!
More about Paula and her Thursday’s Special Challenge here:
Here is a wonderful poem. It reminded me of Judy Brown’s poem Fire. There are spaces between the logs where the fire finds additional fuel and adds to the different colours.
Quiet Flame: A Poem about Love. Photo: Umberto Salvagnin, CC BY 2.0, via Flickr.
This poem is inspired by a writing challenge called “Love in Ten Sentences.” Thank you to both Nicole at The Whispering Pen (check out her motivational posts!) and Sylvester at Syl65’s Blog (hello beautiful poems of faith!) for inviting me to participate in the event!
The challenge is to write a poem about love within ten sentences. Then, once complete, pass on the challenge to ten other bloggers. As I wrote my poem “Quiet Flame,” it was tricky to space out the idea I had with ten periods to the poem… but I did it! Here is the poem.
The fire was closer than
I realized, its flames licking my wounds of
Merriment in the rear window.
The glass broke when your hand reached for mine,
As your fingernails hid beneath my weighted palms.
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