I am in love with Ocean

lifting her thousands of white hats

in the chop of the storm,

or lying smooth and blue, the

loveliest bed in the world.

In the personal life, there is

always grief more than enough,

a heart-load for each of us

on the dusty road. I suppose

there is a reason for this, so I will be

patient, acquiescent. But I will live

nowhere except here, by Ocean, trusting

equally in all the blast and welcome

of her sorrowless, salt self.

~Mary Oliver

how I sway to and from the best inner knowing…

inquiry for today~ what keeps you from your truth?

no worries here…..

In the middle of the war, a red

poppy trembled in the rubble. It

made him put his gun down and

stop. He had entered the eye of

battle and knelt before the poppy,

bullets whizzing, thinking, if

we could just lie down with the

poppies.

And in the middle of the hunt,

the old hunter saw the fox before

anyone else, staring at him in a

long patch of light. But he

couldn’t shoot it because he

suddenly wanted to be the fox.

And in the middle of the divorce,

the broken man saw all he loved

in his broken wife and slouched

before the lawyers, uttering, “I’ve

made a mess of everything. She

can have it all.”

These are not breakdowns,

but breakthroughs. Like sun

through clouds warming the

stone back into a heart.

~Mark Nepo