Tag: song

Setting Our Heart’s to Listen.

“Even from a dark night, songs of beauty can be born.” – Mary Anne Radmacher

Indeed, for even in our darkest hours – there *is* a lesson to be learned, something beautiful to behold. It is the night’s song, a simple melody of love just waiting to be heard.

And, when we are still enough, my darlings – that song fills our soul.

Can you hear it? Mine finds me every morning no matter what troubles may attempt to foil my peace.

And, it’s not because I’m more resilient or enlightened, rather – it’s because I *choose* to listen.

I listen through the chaos, the upset, the unsettledness, the fear. I find the means to tune my heart to that which brings me the most joy.

And that joy is inevitably right here.

Our path in life can be unpredictable, at times – but, sometimes it’s those twists and turns that remind us *why* we are here.

Though it may be our nature to question why, perhaps it doesn’t always serve us well.

That is to say, as Rainer Maria Rilke once said, “Try to love and live the question itself. Don’t search for the answer. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

Because, when our hearts are set to ‘listen’ – my darlings, this whole world comes into view.

The Sweetest Song of Spring.

My darlings, on this day – a celebration of Spring.  And, a moment to welcome with open-heart – that joyous sound which fills our being.

And, though it may seem fleeting – my darlings, know this:

Once heard, it shall never leave us – that sweet blessing of our soul’s greatest song.

Namaste, my loves ~ and, Happy Easter to all. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness—
and that’s when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

for more than a few moments.
It’s one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you’ve been there,
you’re there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

— Mary Oliver, “Such Singing in the Wild Branches”