Wednesday, February 28, 2018

here we stand





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I and this mystery; here we stand.


–Walt Whitman



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Sunday, February 25, 2018

First Light Edging Cirrus





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1025 molecules
are enough
to call woodthrush or apple.
A hummingbird, fewer.
A wristwatch: 1024.
An alphabet's molecules,
tasting of honey, iron and salt,
cannot be counted–
as some strings, untouched,
sound when a near one is speaking.
As it was when love slipped inside us.
It looked out to face in every direction.
Then it was inside the tree, the rock, the cloud.


–Jane Hirshfield


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listen





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I said to the almond tree, ‘Sister, speak to me of God.’

And the almond tree blossomed.


–Nikos Kazantzakis

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Tuesday, February 20, 2018

tru(ly






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Truth cannot be out there—cannot exist independently of the human mind—because sentences cannot so exist, or be out there.

The world is out there, but descriptions of the world are not.
Only descriptions of the world can be true or false.

The world on its own—unaided by the describing activities of humans—
cannot.


–Richard Rorty
Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity


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Sunday, February 18, 2018

question





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What is life?

It is the flash of a firefly in the night.

It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.

It is the little shadow which runs across
the grass and loses itself in the sunset.


–Crowfoot
Blackfoot warrior and orator
1830 - 1890

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Thursday, February 8, 2018

slow growth

 



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The most living moment comes when
those who love each other meet each
other's eyes and in what flows
between them then. To see your face

in a crowd of others, or alone on a 
frightening street, I weep for that.

Our tears improve the earth. The
time you scolded me, your gratitude,

your laughing, always your qualities
increase the soul. Seeing you is a 

wine that does not muddle or numb.
We sit inside the cypress shadow

where amazement and clear thought
twine their slow growth into us.


–Rumi

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Wednesday, February 7, 2018

question





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You ask why I make my home
in the mountain forest
and I smile, and am silent,
and even my soul remains quiet:
It lives in the other world
which no one owns.
The peach trees blossom.
The water flows.

—Li Po


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Tuesday, February 6, 2018

a blessing





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Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.


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blueskythinking
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Sunday, February 4, 2018

their lonely betters






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As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds.
A robin with no Christian name ran through
The Robin-Anthem which was all it knew,
And rustling flowers for some third party waited
To say which pairs, if any, should get mated.

Not one of them was capable of lying,
There was not one which knew that it was dying
Or could have with a rhythm or a rhyme
Assumed responsibility for time.

Let them leave language to their lonely betters
Who count some days and long for certain letters;
We, too, make noises when we laugh or weep:
Words are for those with promises to keep.

–W. H. Auden


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Saturday, February 3, 2018

rest awhile






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Rest awhile.

Your unrest is the last cramp in your legs
as you climb this mountain. Rest awhile, if you like.

But do not return to your old house.
It is not your home any longer.


—Shyamananda



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Friday, February 2, 2018

prana






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Man has no Body distinct from the Soul!
for that Body is a portion of the Soul
discerned by the five Senses,
the chief inlets to the Soul in this age.

Energy is the only life and is from the Body;

and reason is the bound or outward
circumference of energy.
Energy is eternal delight.



–William Blake
18th century


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