inexplicable mythologies

1-Pics for Blog Edits114

That Grief Might Be Its Own Cure
…so I felt in that modal harmony
of stone and grass and mountain sky
and the clear view across the blue lake
below as if I stood alone and entire
with a world held in place, as if
memory could be true, and horizons
hold their hidden, unspoken promise,
and that grief might be its own cure;
and then, in the last held moment before
the music stopped and left the mountain
to itself, and the final, un-final note slurred
into the raptured air, as if the deepest pain
could be a long way to somewhere after all,
and of all things, this still beating, broken, but
listening heart, the one to serve me best…..David Whyte

oceans and forests and rain and little houses hold their mysteries without any holding on…..their vivid memories stand alone without them…..how do we know what we will leave behind? can we let go enough to step back and see? can we know our essence as we fade?

We love who we love and we love being loved. There is something redeeming about experiencing the chaos of change we were brought into, when we come to a place of recognition, acceptance, of deep intimate knowing of one another. When we truly see each other as we really are, when we know and are known by. This is the substantial, common ground we are all reduced to and redeemed by. Grief is contained within love. Like the stars against the contrast of the night sky. Grief arises, but it does not overshadow, alter or shape the love it arises within. Then friends, let us not run from grief. Let us turn into it. Let it soften and nurture us. Let us discover what we’ve always known and find the courage to stand alongside one another, without demand, without hope that the other will save us from our aloneness, with only the strength that comes from standing in your own love of being……Cami Kreuger

 mirrors along the wall

Things do fall apart. It is in their nature to do so. When we try to protect ourselves from the inevitability of change, we are not listening to the soul. We are listening to our fear of life and death, our lack of faith, our smaller ego’s will to prevail. To listen to the soul is to stop fighting with life — to stop fighting when things fall apart; when they don’t go our way, when we get sick, when we are betrayed or mistreated or misunderstood. To listen to the soul is to slow down, to feel deeply, to see ourselves clearly, to surrender to discomfort and uncertainty, and to wait…..Elizabeth Lesser

2 thoughts on “inexplicable mythologies

  1. In moments of great sorrow, my only joy seemed in the moments just after waking, a time when I could almost convince myself that it was all a dream. But over time, I found another joy – an almost secret knowledge – that I’ve not lost a one. I sit cross-legged on the floor with a cup of coffee by shear habit, a nature……..and yet, my grandmother is there. I laugh and beneath the sqealing pitch of a little girl, the timber that is my grampa’s voice. My granny lifts the cup to her lips, with pinkie extended just so……..and more than once, I’ve felt the calm reassurance of my uncle’s hand at the small of my back. Some store away treasure in cedar chests, but the real treasure is that which we carry – all who have loved us, in us, still.

    Of my siblings, I am the only one with a birthmark. And yet, I have three nieces (just three) and each of them carries the same mark in the same place. Fools would claim such as nothing more than genetics………but in a sweeter (deeper) place, I know it is more. What of me remains in them……. Already one seems not capable of laughing without drawing a crowd! 🙂

    May your day be filled with tender reminders of all you have gained……….riches beyond strength to carry. ~ Always with love, Bobbie

    • you have blessed us with an alchemical knowing….a transformational space of lifting veils and deep love……we are never completely here, yet we know where we are…isn’t that the touch of our family…our history….our clouds of beingness…..I want to dream in sepia and spring essences……never forget because I am the memory….hug those souls Bobbie…..

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