Every day
I see or hear something that more or less

kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for – to look, to listen,

to lose myself inside this soft world – to instruct myself over and over

in joy,
and acclamation. Nor am I talking about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant – but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations. Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself, how can you help

but grow wise with such teachings as these –
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine, the prayers that are made out of grass?

~Mary Oliver

how many times does the heart re-remember its joy?

inquiry for today~ may you too, open to the heart….

lived poems

To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

And know there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear

Can’t know except in moments

Steadily growing, and in languages

That aren’t always sound but other

Circles of motion.Like eagle that Sunday morning

Over Salt River. Circles in blue skyIn wind, swept our hearts clean

With sacred wings.We see you, see ourselves and know

That we must take the utmost careAnd kindness in all things.

Breathe in, knowing we are made of

All this, and breathe, knowing

We are truly blessed because weWere born, and die soon, within a True circle of motion,

Like eagle rounding out the morningInside us.

We pray that it will be doneIn beauty.

In beauty.

~Joy Harjo