Wednesday, July 30, 2014

nested like this

Busloads of children are arriving on the borders of the country I live in.

A wren’s nest
holds a few barely visible eggs
in the potted begonia on the porch.
They nestle in the cave she and he made
of moss and dry field grasses.

Deep inside the nest of myself
is a fullness
That holds the complexity of life.

Grace takes my mind aside
Enveloping it completely in her nest.

Like this.

Trusting the nest maker within.
To celebrate.
To care for.
To create and express.
To share in the wonder of all conditions.

Like this.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

learning to crochet

Someone like me
Is really good for nothing.

If you understand this,
You might appreciate me all the more.

If you don’t,
You might believe me.

Looking at Trees

"The body is a sensing instrument of consciousness. Without the body and the mind, the trees couldn't see themselves.

Usually we think that we are looking at a tree, but the tree is looking at itself through us. Without this instrument, the tree doesn't get to see itself.
We are sensing instruments of the Divine."

from The Impact of Awakening


pen and ink

like a glove

You can’t know what it is…
until it takes your form.
it will fit like a glove.