Have you ever noticed a tree standing naked against the sky, how beautiful it is? All its branches are outlined, and in its nakedness there is a poem, there is a song. Every leaf is gone and it is waiting for the spring. When the spring comes, it again fills the tree with the music of many leaves, which in due season fall and are blown away. And this is the way of life…….Krishnamurti
this solstice brings a dreamy and dark night of rekindling a different kind of renewal…..one that does not strive toward better or perfect or self effacing trials……as we prepare, may we remember that this may be one of deep rest and centered retrieval of all that is kind and magical……
Twelve sunflowers were in bloom this morning
in my garden, eastbound
Brightly the animate disk lifts
the missionary tangle winds good up-
in the soil, in the soul
O this the finest
weather when god dies, a finer alchemy,
when gold’s exchanged
for the dingy seeds (bed down, life is with us),
when the sun grows old, the glitter congeals,
the damp warm bright pulp into bits and tatters,
paper and splinters and rayless wheels.
This is the finest weather-
glass eye scantily opens a cold mirror,
shore winds, high tides of
falling color, troughs and palisades,
the gala inebriate storm-
Decrease and deliverance, how the oracle speaks-
How days wane, the hallooing winter-ed solstice,
the hanging bough fallow, unflowering, less.
The increase of energy, the simple life,
the spending out of spirit.
Right now a moment of time is passing by.
We must become that moment.