whispers in a daydream


When the fruit of summer’s ripeness

hangs heavy on its stem

climb high to find yourself.

Trace the rushing creek

through somber forest shaggy with lichen

to the clear brown-eyed lake below the divide.

The alpine meadows are turning russet now.

Yet the bell flowers still ring out

their lavender blue, and the sun’s warmth

pleases the plump marmot today

on his rock above the willow brake.

With each foothold higher on the earth’s back

you step out of yourself

and out of yourself again, unpacking

yourself like a set of Russian dolls

or nested Chinese boxes, until

with the last step out of yourself

everything else steps inside of you;

and you step to the place that’s firm

even when this moment powders and blows away.

…..Chris Hoffman

we unwrap ourselves like a beautiful gift when we honor the opalescent tears of discontent….may the seasons of hope and fog spiral into our most prized treasures….

The journey toward our beauty is a magnificent struggle. Achieving an integrity between what we believe and how we live is a challenge worthy of the gift of life. A thousand obstacles stand between ourselves and the honoring of our truth. A thousand distractions. A thousand ego-generated delusions. To dive down, find the beauty, nurture it, and offer it to the world is magnificent. Staying with your beauty, your truth, your integrity is difficult, but out of these things comes meaning, and meaning is all-transcendent.

….Roderick MacIver

never say we’re done

To pray is to take notice of the wonder, to regain a sense of the mystery that animates all beings, the divine margin in all our attainments….Abraham Joshua Heschel

4 thoughts on “whispers in a daydream

    • love these slow, full, timeless days…..to allow the evening to wrap around softly whatever holds too tightly…..scents and light and birds g.f.s….

  1. Yesterday, I sat on the porch with parts of the Sunday paper…..and thought of how I needed a pedicure, and how the lines are deepening around my eyes. I thought back to how I got the scar on my knee, and the other on my collarbone. Your comment on unwrapping is exactly how it felt…..like unwrapping a prized glass (like the oatmeal glasses my granny had in her pie safe). Do we need to train our eyes to see the beauty? We are more than one dimension. Like the glass, our beauty is in the story, in the scars that become sweeter the further we move from their beginning. The dearest of all memories are those with jagged corners. ❤ Love you.

    • oh there’s another poem here…..like a wabi sabi soul…..settling into our sweetest days…..may you always hold the laughter in each line Bobbie…..

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