to peek in the window of a still moment

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The rain surrounded the cabin- with a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, of rumor. Think of it: all that speech pouring down, selling nothing, judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the wood with water, washing out the places where men have stripped the hillside. Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, the rain. As long as it talks, I am going to listen…..Thomas Merton

that tiny little voice that whispers, echoing our inner knowing if only we could trust the deep pool of humanity…..no answers, just a fluid and light-filled saunter of grace…..

W. B. Yeats tells the story of a Japanese artist who painted horses on a temple wall. Her work was so vivid, so complete, that one of the horses slipped down in the night and galloped off across a neighbor’s rice field. Next morning, a pilgrim came very early to the temple, and was startled by a shower of water drops. Looking up, he saw the horse still wet with dew, still ‘trembling into stillness.’ That shift between the real and the imagined, that magical vivacity, is what inspires us to return to those ancient paintings, nourishing our fretful, anxious spirits, steadying our gaze. ‘It is our slowness I love,’ says the poet Jorie Graham, ‘growing slower, tapping the paintbrush against the visible, tapping the mind.’…….Christian McEwen

beneath our layers

As we step out of the house on a fine evening between four and six, we shed the self our friends know us by and become part of that vast republican army of anonymous trampers, whose society is so agreeable after the solitude of one’s own room. The shell-like covering which our souls have excreted to house themselves is broken, and there is left of all these wrinkles and roughness a central oyster of perceptiveness, an enormous eye. How beautiful a street is in winter!…Virginia Woolf

5 thoughts on “to peek in the window of a still moment

  1. I hear words whispered in the pines
    their message comes from eons past
    no questions are posed, nothing to sell
    just a voice in my hair that finds its way
    to my soul without thinking
    I wonder and wander with the wind
    she holds my heart present in the sun
    shows me the way home
    where the seas and the winds rest
    gently as neap tides in May
    or the fragrance of life
    in the shade of an Apple tree …

    Thank you …

    • like looking into a warm, and softly lit window of a stranger’s house while out for an evening stroll and knowing that as separate as we are, the light from the window warms us, connects us, and opens our hearts…….hope you have a few reverent summer moments under an apple tree g.f.s, creating the poetic lines of warm hearts……

  2. Pingback: wind in the pines | grandfathersky

  3. My friend, there is a place we keep…….beyond the world of fear. Those who’ve never known love, they have an unquenching thirst for it. Those who have, carry it with them……..never once fearful of losing that which came willingly to the door (to the soul). Always love, Bobbie

    • this speaks to the life of abundance, of faith and casting out our vulnerability, knowing it is true……where the knowing comes from love itself, the never-to-be-broken circle…….I love this dear Bobbie…..

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