forgive the forgetting

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well, hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

~Mary Oliver

when I’m not ready to go…

inquiry for today~ these tiny openings are shiny gifts…

tiny fires

If dark nights must come, let them come.

Open your doors. Let them come, my dear, and ask them what they want.

Maybe all they want is your presence. Nothing else.

Maybe all they want to do is to hold you so close and polish you secretly, without telling anyone–

Maybe that is all they want. Know that deep inside they hold ten thousand fragrant mornings.

They hold the source of laughter. They hold life.

~Guthema Roba

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