Slippage
There is something I am missing;
something I have left behind, or forgotten, or lost;
perhaps it was taken.
Pray tell, if you know,
do not keep me in the dark here alone.
I am not the same, but I am still the same one,
the pieces that have fallen still fit.
This time with grace and humility,
and listening.
I'm doing the best I can.
something I have left behind, or forgotten, or lost;
perhaps it was taken.
Pray tell, if you know,
do not keep me in the dark here alone.
I am not the same, but I am still the same one,
the pieces that have fallen still fit.
This time with grace and humility,
and listening.
I'm doing the best I can.
Traveler
On or in, this river that is not water,
water that has no form,
form that has no name.
On and in, there is no riverbed,
No silty, weedy bottom on which to plant human feet,
to ground the body against the flow
that endlessly churns and roils in all directions at once.
There is no boat to ride upon,
no place to store belongings.
There is nothing here that is not you.
There is no way to carry or to wear.
All that is not you is left where it lays.
This river that is not water that does not wet the skin,
carrying you naked as your first newborn incarnation
with ultimate speed and utter stillness.
You do not move your mouth to call out or even to whisper;
You have no breath here.
Silence a living thing, an aware entity,
heavier than the haze on Lower Lake the moment before dawn,
when the eagles rise from the island and spread their august wings.
In the dark hours you found the way here;
You have always known the way.
In the dark hours you left the world with the stinging ice days
and scraping loud beard bristle voices chastising whither and thou.
You turned on your heel as a lone dancer into the shadows, hidden
from the searching eyes and knitted burnt coffee brows,
and pointing needle nose fingers that groped and grabbed,
prodded and pulled at your sacred being.
They had no right, they had no right! They hadn’t any right.
In the dark hours you wept, and then you ceased weeping.
You followed the deep, red darkness of the roses;
Remembrance returned you here.
You have been here before,
Between worlds, in and on.
The weaving between is the fabric of the next;
To feel it, to touch it, to reweave the pattern
In order to bend the worlds.
To reshape the very form of all that has happened,
Or will happen.
Do not despair,
these words are no beacon to the unaware.
The hidden culvert will remain secret,
For only those who know where and how
to set their back, and place their feet, can find it.
On or in, to ride this river there is a price, you have always been paying it.
The weariness is beginning to toll; It is of the heart, and of the soul.
And the course is never set, the weaving is not precise,
For I am not the weaver, and you are not the river;
we are merely travelers.
What will happen, dear fellow traveler, if you offer your hand?
Perhaps you will lead me back to shore;
To the beginning, where all is eternal and fresh born,
The place that has been searched for endlessly and left behind,
Where our children are welcome,
Where redemption waits quiet and sublime.
M. Black
water that has no form,
form that has no name.
On and in, there is no riverbed,
No silty, weedy bottom on which to plant human feet,
to ground the body against the flow
that endlessly churns and roils in all directions at once.
There is no boat to ride upon,
no place to store belongings.
There is nothing here that is not you.
There is no way to carry or to wear.
All that is not you is left where it lays.
This river that is not water that does not wet the skin,
carrying you naked as your first newborn incarnation
with ultimate speed and utter stillness.
You do not move your mouth to call out or even to whisper;
You have no breath here.
Silence a living thing, an aware entity,
heavier than the haze on Lower Lake the moment before dawn,
when the eagles rise from the island and spread their august wings.
In the dark hours you found the way here;
You have always known the way.
In the dark hours you left the world with the stinging ice days
and scraping loud beard bristle voices chastising whither and thou.
You turned on your heel as a lone dancer into the shadows, hidden
from the searching eyes and knitted burnt coffee brows,
and pointing needle nose fingers that groped and grabbed,
prodded and pulled at your sacred being.
They had no right, they had no right! They hadn’t any right.
In the dark hours you wept, and then you ceased weeping.
You followed the deep, red darkness of the roses;
Remembrance returned you here.
You have been here before,
Between worlds, in and on.
The weaving between is the fabric of the next;
To feel it, to touch it, to reweave the pattern
In order to bend the worlds.
To reshape the very form of all that has happened,
Or will happen.
Do not despair,
these words are no beacon to the unaware.
The hidden culvert will remain secret,
For only those who know where and how
to set their back, and place their feet, can find it.
On or in, to ride this river there is a price, you have always been paying it.
The weariness is beginning to toll; It is of the heart, and of the soul.
And the course is never set, the weaving is not precise,
For I am not the weaver, and you are not the river;
we are merely travelers.
What will happen, dear fellow traveler, if you offer your hand?
Perhaps you will lead me back to shore;
To the beginning, where all is eternal and fresh born,
The place that has been searched for endlessly and left behind,
Where our children are welcome,
Where redemption waits quiet and sublime.
M. Black
Prayer for Protection
The Light of God surrounds me,
The Love of God enfolds me,
The Power of God protects me,
The Presence of God watches over me,
And wherever I am, God is.
The Love of God enfolds me,
The Power of God protects me,
The Presence of God watches over me,
And wherever I am, God is.
Myers Briggs Test
Took the Myers-Briggs personality test; turns out I'm an INFJ...
http://www.personalitytest.net/types/descriptions/index.htm
What this means to me is that I will never escape the pain inflicted by extroverted people; what it means to you? I wouldn't know.
Go take the test and see what you are, it's free.
http://www.personalitytest.net/types/descriptions/index.htm
What this means to me is that I will never escape the pain inflicted by extroverted people; what it means to you? I wouldn't know.
Go take the test and see what you are, it's free.
Justice
Four things support the world; the learning of the wise, the justice of the great, the prayers of the good, and the valor of the brave. ~Muhammed
Wings
God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches you by means if opposites, so you will have two wings to fly, not one. ~ Rumi
Cape Ann
Posted on | October 24, 2007
Landscapes by T S Eliot
Cape Ann
O quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow,
Swamp-sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper-sparrow
At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance
Of goldfinch at noon. Leave to chance
The Blackburnian warbler, the shy one. Hail
With shrill whistle the note of the quail, the bob-white
Dodging the bay-bush. Follow the feet
Of the walker, the water-thrush. Follow the flight
Of the dancing arrow, the purple martin. Greet
In silence the bullbat. All are delectable. Sweet sweet sweet
But resign this land at the end, resign it
To its true owner, the tough one, the sea gull.
The palaver is finished.
Landscapes by T S Eliot
Cape Ann
O quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow,
Swamp-sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper-sparrow
At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance
Of goldfinch at noon. Leave to chance
The Blackburnian warbler, the shy one. Hail
With shrill whistle the note of the quail, the bob-white
Dodging the bay-bush. Follow the feet
Of the walker, the water-thrush. Follow the flight
Of the dancing arrow, the purple martin. Greet
In silence the bullbat. All are delectable. Sweet sweet sweet
But resign this land at the end, resign it
To its true owner, the tough one, the sea gull.
The palaver is finished.
Perfection
"our imperfections are the soft places where compassion is transformed into love."
~mblack
~mblack
Apostles Creed
Look at all my trials and tribulations
Sinking in a gentle pool of wine
Don't disturb me now, I can see the answers
Til this evening is this morning, life is fine
∞
Sinking in a gentle pool of wine
Don't disturb me now, I can see the answers
Til this evening is this morning, life is fine
∞
City at night!
2 green lights in a row at the tolls, now that's good luck!
"If you want to help others, maybe you should look in your heart, and forgive yourself, first." ~ Daven
bifrost
Three of Disks - Works
“You may never know what results come of your action, but if you do nothing there will be no result.” ~Mahatma Gandhi
Where Art Thou? (How did you get here?)
Driving home last night,
A good laugh and a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor's book.
-- Irish Proverb
thinking about lifetimes I have lived
sur·ren·der - 1 a : to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand
and how people always think they know you,
You’ve been walking the ocean’s edge, holding up your robes to keep them dry. You must dive naked under, and deeper under, a thousand times deeper!~ Rumi
To hold, you must first open your hand. Let go. ~Lao Tzu
seeing you through the glass
The creative process is a process of surrender, not control.
~Rumi
that is scarred with years of resentments,
The greatness of a man's power is the measure of his surrender.
pitted with suspicion,
I cannot always understand His way, but I am content in the realization that He knows what is best. That is surrender.~Daya Mata
scratched with guilt,
Nothing is needed on your part to be done. Only one thing: a deep trust and surrender. ~Osho
Surrender, surrender, but don't give yourself away. ~ Cheap Trick
they wouldn't be able to see it, unless they looked through a fresh lens.
And let the past mistakes, including the ones you think are not known, be water gone, under the bridge. All is already known, and already forgiven. Let it go, let it leave, let it heal, I have. (No wait, you can't know~ except that I do know, I did. I needed to feel life, so I said nothing.) You are not alone in transgression; you walked in while I was screaming, I am accountable as well. It took all I had then, all that was in me, to go and meet you there. And then you crossed my boundaries, and then you acted like I crossed yours~ and then I was incensed. So the flames grow higher, and the fuel that burns is hidden by the glow of the fire itself, and all that is felt is the heat. To understand the intensity, the fuel must be known. ~Sometimes terrible storms are what were needed to cleanse the soul. For Farimir's Sake it doesn't matter, there is not enough time, let's just dance, and feel life, and celebrate magic... I truly believe in you~ lighten up! I wanna go camping and burn stuff! :)
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