“…Beauty is subversive. Why? Because it is powerful. It’s powerful because it makes us dream. It makes us think. It makes us imagine a world that’s bigger than the one we know and one that’s worth taking a risk for. Even in a brutal world, beauty exists and its power leads us to hope, faith, and love.
Beauty inspires. It’s as simple as that.”
–The Words of Michael Fryer, guest contributor On Being
“…I lounge on the grass, that’s all. So
simple. Then I lie back until I am
inside the cloud that is just above me
but very high, and shaped like a fish.
Or, perhaps not. Then I enter the place
of not-thinking, not-remembering, not-
wanting. When the blue jay cries out his
riddle, in his carping voice, I return.
But I go back, the threshold is always
near. Over and back, over and back. Then
I rise. Maybe I rub my face as though I
have been asleep. But I have not been
asleep. I have been, as I say, inside
the cloud, or, perhaps, the lily floating
on the water. Then I go back to town,
to my own house, my own life, which has
now become brighter and simpler, some-
where I have never been before….”
– Mary Oliver
Six Recognitions of the Lord
Thirst: Poems
“I lounge on the grass, that’s all. So
simple. Then I lie back until I am
inside the cloud that is just above me
but very high, and shaped like a fish.
Or, perhaps not. Then I enter the place
of not-thinking, not-remembering, not-
wanting. When the blue jay cries out his
riddle, in his carping voice, I return.
But I go back, the threshold is always
near. Over and back, over and back. Then
I rise. Maybe I rub my face as though I
have been asleep. But I have not been
asleep. I have been, as I say, inside
the cloud, or, perhaps, the lily floating
on the water. Then I go back to town,
to my own house, my own life, which has
now become brighter and simpler, some-
where I have never been before.”
– Mary Oliver
“In other days, I understood mountains differently, seeing in them something that abides. Even when approached respectfully (to challenge peaks as mountaineers do is another matter), they appalled me with their “permanence,” with that awful and irrefutable rock-ness that seemed to intensify my sense of my own transience. Perhaps this dread of transience explains our greed for the few gobbets of raw experience in modern life, why violence is libidinous, why lust devours us, why soldiers choose not to forget their days of horror: we cling to such extreme moments, in which we seem to die, yet are reborn. In sexual abandon as in danger we are impelled, however briefly, into that vital present in which we do not stand apart from life, we are life, our being fills us; in ecstasy with another being, loneliness falls away into eternity.
Yet in other days, such union was attainable through simple awe.”
– Peter Matthiessen
Nine-Headed Dragon River
“Mindful
Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for –
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world –
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant –
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these –
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?”
– Mary Oliver
Goooooooood Morning!!!
There was a wonderful and renewing
thundershower last night and in the blink of a few flashes of lightning
and much dancing and delight, the view simply changed. I am grateful for
that.
I had tea and I thought upon someone’s blog post about
fundamentals and organizing life and friends. I noticed what I said to
him. I laughed inside. I smiled at the laughing, attributing it to the
rain and grounding. I took the children to school. I left the school and
the normal sort of reminder list of things I should do, things that I
used to do that kept me well, went through my mind. The but-butters
chimed in with…nooooooo you should do this or do that while you are
fresh and clear and so on and so forth.
I watched myself stepping off of the side of my cliff…
And I shouted to myself DESIRE!!
Desire
removed guilt and shame. It organized the next right thing
automatically. I went to the college and I grabbed Parabola
magazine–the one I’ve been wanting to go view but didn’t quite make it
there. I walked all of the way to the other side of the library to sit
in the morning sun. I thought I did so to avoid the lights which can
create neurological havoc, hence my avoidance. I sat down and opened the
magazine and felt the pages on my fingers, as if no one else had
touched this issue. I read the forward and realized the draw to seek out
this particular issue. I heard…elisa, look! in my head and I turned
to the right. The entire section where I chose to sit was solid glass
walls with stones of all sorts and grasses and roses. A rabbit had come
and was just sitting perked up looking at me. Remember desire, joy, and
enchantment. I read one of the articles and decided to come home. The
article brought to the front of my mind the Tao.
I followed
simple Tao thoughts to a group online that posts ‘studies’ of the
verses. My own copies of the Tao, do not match translations and
interpretations that are posted there. However, this morning the verse
that drew me to it was Verse 66. The chosen title for it was “Living by
Emulating the Sea”. I sighed and then shook my head a little and then
thought to myself, well read all of the comments, there are other
versions and interpretations there. And I did.
In the comment involving The Tao of Emerson by Richard Grossman, I found this:
“From the Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson – ”Greatness”
A sensible man avoids introducing the names
of his creditable companions,
And is content putting his fact or theme
simply on its ground.
You shall not tell me that your commercial house,
your partners or yourself are of importance;
You shall not tell me that you have learned
to know men;
You shall make me feel that
your saying so un-says it.“
So very simple. It seems to fit.
But, this is only the shoelace of the shoe and though I think that I
like it, I went off to find the rest of the shoe to try it on and to see
how it fits, how it was made, before I buy it. The entire essay “Greatness”. Enjoy!
A bit ago, I found something in today’s blog on Writing Without Paper. An event, activity, called One Shoot Sunday
. Anyone interested can read the full and requested directions there. Part was to credit the Photographer:
“This week, on behalf of the One Stop Poetry crew, I would like to introduce you all to Jacob Lucas, a Seattle-based photographer with a simple philosophy: to enjoy photography’s creative rewards and to shoot what he wants, how he wants.
A bit of a dabbler in all things photographic, Jacob finds his city to be a great muse, but he’s also traveled as far as the temples of Angkor Wat, a journey that launched a series of images on his blog, and memories he’ll never forget.”
"The Show Must Go On"
Next, were directions to submit my own poetry, inspired by the image.
Autopilot
I remembered
only by pain
to look
again at simple things
only because it took effort to do them
to wake up
push thru the blanket in the mind
pulling it off sensually
efforts to avoid the slap of reality
but life on life’s terms
reminded me
i felt the breath
felt the fabric slide across my skin
stretch awake each fibre finger and toe
as I thought i wanted to postpone
awareness
firm floor under my feet
warm clothes sliding on
keys jingling down into my pocket
tea in my mouth
bright light outside
cold
the tempting scent of spring
the smile bubbling forth with that spring
reminded to have joy in each moment
bumpy wheat toast
nutty scent
beautiful tangy cheeses
fresh apple slice crisp
tender green leaves
another happy sip of tea
hiding
knowing
experiencing
wisdom
running away
maybe
they feel the same
–by elisabeth connelley, Purple Profundity
“Vulnerability is built into our hearts, which can be sliced open at any moment by some sudden shift in the arrangements, some pain, some horror, some hurt. We know and instinctively fear this, so we protect our hearts by covering them against exposure. But this doesn’t work. Covering the heart binds and suffocates it until, like a wound that has been kept dressed for too long, the heart starts to fester and becomes fetid. Eventually, without air, the heart is all but killed off, and there’s no feeling, no experiencing at all.”
– Norman Fischer
And then…the Creator has other plans!
One drop of rains falls.
It can be ignored.
More gently patter down.
I look up (do you?).
A teasing pause.
One drop, two, a rush, a dance
The mind moves, the body follows.
A weaving dance, feeling joy, creating downpours of expression,
rising, twisting, and spinning
across a pattern of life
simple joy.
I smile, inside and out (do you?).
Come to ground.
Refreshed by self after converting gift of rain.
I sit, peacefully (do you?).
I watch the gift of ground.
–elisabeth connelley
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Elisa's Spot 