when the melancholy comes

May this be a morning of innocent beginning,

When the gift within you slips clear

Of the sticky web of the personal

With its hurt and hauntings,

And fixed fortress corners,

A morning when you become a pure vessel

For what wants to ascend from silence,

May your imagination know

The grace of perfect danger,

To reach beyond imitation,

And the wheel of repetition,

Deep into the call of all

The unfinished and unsolved

Until the veil of the unknown yields

And something original begins

To stir toward your senses

And grow stronger in your heart.

~John O’Donohue

your cause becomes my cause now…

inquiry for today~ may you sing and dance and play a little while…..

what is my north star?

Remember, remember,

this is now, and now.

Live it,

feel it,

cling to it.

I want to be

acutely aware

for all I’ve

taken for granted.

~Sylvia Plath

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