Tag: spring

This Blessing of Spring.

The days are growing longer, my loves – as spring finds its place amongst these vestiges of green.

Beyond, the ice has worn thin at the river’s edge – the sound of water revealing only that which the heart may speak.

Our bodies, suddenly unconstrained by these markings of time. In this space, awareness grows – we are not simply one, we are composite of all.

Even the tiniest of sapling blooms to honor these new beginnings.

“Spring has returned,” Rilke once shared. “The Earth is like a child that knows…” Knowing, yes…just as the dews knows the comfort of morn’.

How lucky are to be gifted her presence; majestic, noble, kind and true. A blessing beyond this fullness of word.

And, in her presence – our faith, renewed.

In peace, my loves…

Namaste ❤️

The Call of the Daffodils.

The daffodils were poking through this morning, a sure sign that winter had finally relinquished it’s icy grip.

And, with that a sense of renewal, of joy; an opportunity to reconnect with the resilience of life’s spirit.

I knelt before a small grouping at the back garden wall. How many miss this chance, I wondered – to embrace these marvels of continuation?

“Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.” ~ William Wordsworth

My darlings, have you noticed how the daffodil thrives in spite of the conditions presented? As if it’s bloom served as testimony to the True capacity of spirit.

So often we become transfixed by that which has already passed; endless dialogue scripted through each commitment of memory.

Though, yet one simple truth – like the young daffodil, we shall rise again… resilient.

In peace…

Namaste ❤️

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

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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”

Where the Dandelions Smile.

I shall be taking a small journey today – through wooded paths, and winding trails; finding, in part, the road home to me.

I’m going to a place where the dandelions ‘smile’ from narrow stone crevices, and the willows dip their heartfelt ‘hello.’

I shall travel for hours, if I like – exploring every route a curious heart may go. I’ll stop to listen to the robin’s trill, and the sound of snow melting back into the earth.

With every step, I shall find my peace – amongst the weathered branches and fallen limbs. Knowing, in time, there will be change – a gentle hush, ushering the dawn of spring.

My darlings, this morning I wanted to share with you one of my favorite poems written by Vietnamese monk and renowned Zen master,  Thich Nhat Hạnh – “The Good News” – a reminder of the sanctity of this one precious human life.

The good news
they do not print.
The good news
we do print.
We have a special edition every moment,
and we need you to read it.
The good news is that you are alive,
that the linden tree is still there,
standing firm in the harsh winter.
The good news is that you have wonderful eyes
to touch the blue sky.
The good news is that your child is there before you,
and your arms are available:
hugging is possible.
They only print what is wrong.
Look at each of our special editions.
We always offer the things that are not wrong.
We want you to benefit from them
and help protect them.
The dandelion is there by the sidewalk,
smiling its wondrous smile,
singing the song of eternity.
Listen! You have ears that can hear it.
Bow your head.
Listen to it.
Leave behind the world of sorrow,
of preoccupation,
and get free.
The latest good news
is that you can do it.