Perhaps my soul’s call
Is simply to whisper, ‘Look!’
‘Look, how beautiful!’
[photo from the wonderful blog, nature has no boss, by MIKE BIZEAU]
look!
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Tag Archives: beauty
the beauty of friendship
Friendship is a beautiful thing.
It sings softly in the corners of the day.
It smiles quietly when you come through the door
And misses you when you are gone.
It is almost imperceptible at times, but then
It anchors your soul when storms come,
And rejoices in your joys, sending them soaring.
A simple hug from a friend can heal your soul.
I am so grateful for the gift, for the gifts, of friends.
[photo by Justo Ruiz per cc 2.0]
I wonder …
I wonder …
and when I do, judgment falls to the wayside.
All the fingers of my mind,
That try to grasp and hold – and fix – reality,
Release their grip.
Gentle wonder
Wakes to beauty
Rests in grace.
I am held in the open palm
Of God’s dear hand
In the twinkling of an insight,
I am changed.
My soul is released into the mystery.
I find that I am held
Even as I am freed.
Ahhh
Amen
[Thanks to Maria Popova in her post on gentle wonder as a corrective …]
[photo is my own]
Things that wake my soul
The things that wake my soul:
- Beauty – particularly the movement inherent in asymmetrical beauty
- Deep honesty toward myself – which opens the door to connection
- Improbable hope lived out with grace
- Kindness – especially unbidden and (almost) unseen
- Friendship’s glance – and its extended cousin, a loving gaze
- Laughter – the kind that draws you in
- Whispers beneath the stars
And that inexplicable, unpredictable touch of the universe, when it says, ‘YES!’
[photo by Attila Siha per cc 2.0]
letting the image speak
There are some images that speak for themselves.
As soon as you try to nail them down with words,
You make them smaller.
You tighten your focus, and lose the fullness.
Analysis can be good
But sometimes grateful acceptance is even better.
[photo is my own – you many use it under cc By-NC-SA 2.0]
beauty’s call
Beauty is not skin deep
It calls to deep.
Layer upon layer upon layer
Creating fractals of pleasure
That play, one upon the other.
It expands far into the distance
Even as it brushes my cheek
With life-giving moisture.
When I stop to notice beauty,
It breaks my soul open.
When I train my eyes to see it
My heart cannot help but follow.
And here is the secret:
Beauty is everywhere.
Look!
There it is.
Ah, yes.
And there
And there.
Amen.
[photo from the wonderful blog, nature has no boss, by MIKE BIZEAU used with permission]
good morning
Good morning, Holy One.
Good morning.
You smile upon the earth and the sun decides to rise.
You breathe and that breath stirs the trees and sets the waters skipping.
You kiss the earth and it blooms.
How then can my heart be dull?
How can I stop my voice from singing?
How can I sit alone and lonely in the face of such wonder?
Thank you
Thank you
For your constant ‘Yes,’ stirring my soul to unshakable hope.
That is what I need.
That is what you give, this holy morning.
Amen.
[photo is my own]
chimes
The wind chimes
Hang outside my window
And when the breeze is low
I can barely hear them.
My ears are deaf
But my heart is held
By their quiet, soft, round tone.
They melt into that hollow.
Every morning
Before the world begins its clamor
And the responsibilities click in place
I am held by unspoken beauty.
Even at noon
When the wind is still
And the chimes hang limp
The beauty of hope remains.
And in the evening
When the cool and breeze return
My heart is reminded.
I find I am held, still.
a small bird
Is a bird self-aware?
Does it see its own quiet beauty?
Does it know the part it plays within the whole?
Or does it focus on the beauty that surrounds it,
Making it all the more beautiful,
In its unstudied grace?
Sometimes, I’d like to be a small bird.
Not so much for the flight,
But for the ease of finding the wind.
[photo by Mike Bizeau from the wonderful blog, nature has no boss used with permission]
the whisper
There is a holy whisper in the universe.
Sometimes it is hard for my heart to hear it.
Sometimes I even doubt its presence.
But then, I am overcome by beauty.
And I am reminded.
It is so.
Sometimes it seems I will be pulled apart by chaos.
So much in disarray.
So much violence and anger.
So much pain and terror.
But deep below it all, there is an anchor of truth.
It holds me, still.
I often wish for a different reality.
I even try to make it so.
But my small fictions cannot do the trick.
The real is real.
And the very deepest real,
Is a call to unity – even in the midst of chaos.
Much of that struggle and pain
Is created when my fictions strike up against yours.
Even so, the struggle and the pain are real,
They stretch and tear and bind.
They do hurt – immensely.
But they are not eternal.
How can I release myself to the seeming chaos?
How can I become a part of that deep unity,
Without loosing myself?
So, I continue to construct my fictional self
Out of the rubble of my efforts.
All to no avail.
I fight the inevitable
Like a small child fighting sleep.
I whine and struggle, rock and fidget.
I push against the embrace
Until I can resist no longer
And I fall into peace.
And here is the wonder of it all
I am held in the arms of truth.
The chaos is not random.
It tumbles into patterns of fractal beauty
Where I am both lost and found
And my heart at last can hear that holy whisper.
[photo ashokboghani by per cc 2.0]
[Thanks to Richard Rohr, in his meditation blog, for helping me begin to see.]
Quiet Hope 
