Read this poem tonight at team Fury and it really grabbed me - especially the line "In the meantime, she is the one today among us
most able to bear the idea of her own beauty."
beautiful stuff
Grammar
Maxine, back from a weekend with her boyfriend,
smiles like a big cat and says
that she's a conjugated verb.
She's been doing the direct object
with a second person pronoun named Phil,
and when she walks into the room,
everybody turns:
some kind of light is coming from her head.
Even the geraniums look curious,
and the bees, if they were here, would buzz
suspiciously around her hair, looking
for the door in her corona.
We're all attracted to the perfume
of fermenting joy,
we've all tried to start a fire,
and one day maybe it will blaze up on its own.
In the meantime, she is the one today among us
most able to bear the idea of her own beauty,
and when we see it, what we do is natural:
we take our burned hands
out of our pockets,
and clap.
Tony Hoagland
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Sunday, April 05, 2009
To Spring (and Love) - and all that will follow.
O Thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!
The hills tell each other, and the list'ning
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turnèd
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.
Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.
William Blake
Its that time of year - the bike has been rescued from its winter hibernation in the garage, had its yearly service and I am once again riding through the forests of Sanctus B. And its glorious - you can smell spring in the air, the new life is bursting through the earth and everything feels new and possible and glorious. I love this time of year in Ireland when the moving from one season to the next is so clearly defined. Which brings me to my own moving from one season of life to the next. It happened like this......
On a sunday afternoon we took a drive through the rolling drumlins of County Down. The clouds scattered and the sunlight flooded the car. We stopped at a country church, built on the site of the first church established on this isle by St Patrick. Inside its simple stone walls there is an altar with a silver cross and a lone stained glass window. The Sun bled through the many colours of the saint and filled the church. We stopped to enjoy the silence and then prayed on the sacred ground. Prayed for wisdom and blessing and all that would follow in the fullness of life both in sorrow and in laughter.
A short drive up the shore to another Holy island on the lough which had been the site of an early Irish Celtic monastery. The remnants of the church, the walls and the High tower are still there and the view over the water is breathtaking. In the shelter of the tower we read some Mary Oliver .....
'You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine'
because real life is as much about sadness as it is about joy and its good to make peace with that from the start. And then we sat overlooking the Lough , exactly where we had broken bread almost a year before, on one of our first dates. And in the twinkling of an eye I knelt and asked my Anam Cara to take a risk and share our lives and our journey from here to the place where all journeys end.
With that one small word of an answer both of our lives changed forever in ways we can't yet imagine. We journeyed back to Belfast where the community toasted us with champagne and Father Padraig blessed the day in poetry and song - using the ancient tongue of our island to call down God's blessing on our new life.
And so spring is full of joy and I walk towards the future more in hope than fear.
The Blessing of St Patrick surround you.
M
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!
The hills tell each other, and the list'ning
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turnèd
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.
Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.
William Blake
Its that time of year - the bike has been rescued from its winter hibernation in the garage, had its yearly service and I am once again riding through the forests of Sanctus B. And its glorious - you can smell spring in the air, the new life is bursting through the earth and everything feels new and possible and glorious. I love this time of year in Ireland when the moving from one season to the next is so clearly defined. Which brings me to my own moving from one season of life to the next. It happened like this......
On a sunday afternoon we took a drive through the rolling drumlins of County Down. The clouds scattered and the sunlight flooded the car. We stopped at a country church, built on the site of the first church established on this isle by St Patrick. Inside its simple stone walls there is an altar with a silver cross and a lone stained glass window. The Sun bled through the many colours of the saint and filled the church. We stopped to enjoy the silence and then prayed on the sacred ground. Prayed for wisdom and blessing and all that would follow in the fullness of life both in sorrow and in laughter.
A short drive up the shore to another Holy island on the lough which had been the site of an early Irish Celtic monastery. The remnants of the church, the walls and the High tower are still there and the view over the water is breathtaking. In the shelter of the tower we read some Mary Oliver .....
'You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine'
because real life is as much about sadness as it is about joy and its good to make peace with that from the start. And then we sat overlooking the Lough , exactly where we had broken bread almost a year before, on one of our first dates. And in the twinkling of an eye I knelt and asked my Anam Cara to take a risk and share our lives and our journey from here to the place where all journeys end.
With that one small word of an answer both of our lives changed forever in ways we can't yet imagine. We journeyed back to Belfast where the community toasted us with champagne and Father Padraig blessed the day in poetry and song - using the ancient tongue of our island to call down God's blessing on our new life.
And so spring is full of joy and I walk towards the future more in hope than fear.
The Blessing of St Patrick surround you.
M
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Lenten Questions
Tis the time of the year when some give up things, others take up things and some do nothing at all. I've always had an ambivalent relationship with Lent - sometimes giving up things but not necessarily thinking deeply or entering into any new discipline beyond not eating chocolate or whatever. This year I’m trying both. I have said goodbye to all things sweet, all things alcoholic and have banned myself from Facebook. But that’s all well and good – I may lose a few pounds and have some more time but will I learn anything?
So my plan is to use the time for more reading, thinking and the occasional bit of writing on the blog. But Lent itself – almost a tithe of the year that we give to something holy. Jesus went into the desert for 40 days to ask the question of what it meant to be Jesus. Perhaps we could spend the time during Lent asking ourselves some questions. In Beyond Words Frederick Buechner gives us some ideas.
“If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn’t, which side would get your money and why?
When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would that be in 25 words or less?
Of all the things that you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
Is there any person in the world or any cause that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?
To hear yourself try to answer questions like that is to begin to hear something not only of who you are, but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end. “
I’m wrestling with these questions over the next 6 weeks. I can’t promise to post the answers to all of them but I will post some. Maybe you can join me on the journey.
So my plan is to use the time for more reading, thinking and the occasional bit of writing on the blog. But Lent itself – almost a tithe of the year that we give to something holy. Jesus went into the desert for 40 days to ask the question of what it meant to be Jesus. Perhaps we could spend the time during Lent asking ourselves some questions. In Beyond Words Frederick Buechner gives us some ideas.
“If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn’t, which side would get your money and why?
When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would that be in 25 words or less?
Of all the things that you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
Is there any person in the world or any cause that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?
To hear yourself try to answer questions like that is to begin to hear something not only of who you are, but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end. “
I’m wrestling with these questions over the next 6 weeks. I can’t promise to post the answers to all of them but I will post some. Maybe you can join me on the journey.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
One to Ponder
3 Dollars Worth of God
I would like to buy 3 dollars worth of God, please
Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine. I don't want enough of him to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant.
I want ecstasy, not transformation.
I want the warmth of the womb not a new birth.
I want about a pound of the eternal in a paper sack.
I'd like to buy 3 dollars worth of God, please
How much God do you want?
You get as much or as little as you desire.
Wilbur Reese
I would like to buy 3 dollars worth of God, please
Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine. I don't want enough of him to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant.
I want ecstasy, not transformation.
I want the warmth of the womb not a new birth.
I want about a pound of the eternal in a paper sack.
I'd like to buy 3 dollars worth of God, please
How much God do you want?
You get as much or as little as you desire.
Wilbur Reese
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Winter Warmer
We had a winter warmer tonight. Ingredients
One group of lovely people
Some Mulled Wine
A crackling Wood Fire
An embarassment of Cookies
Some Cheese
and some poetry and music.
Leave in Room and see what happens.
It was glorious. And for your delectation a little poem.
Into The Darkest Hour
by Madeleine L’Engle
It was a time like this,
War & tumult of war,
a horror in the air.
Hungry yawned the abyss-
and yet there came the star
and the child most wonderfully there.
It was time like this
of fear & lust for power,
license & greed and blight-
and yet the Prince of bliss
came into the darkest hour
in quiet & silent light.
And in a time like this
how celebrate his birth
when all things fall apart?
Ah! Wonderful it is
with no room on the earth
the stable is our heart.
One group of lovely people
Some Mulled Wine
A crackling Wood Fire
An embarassment of Cookies
Some Cheese
and some poetry and music.
Leave in Room and see what happens.
It was glorious. And for your delectation a little poem.
Into The Darkest Hour
by Madeleine L’Engle
It was a time like this,
War & tumult of war,
a horror in the air.
Hungry yawned the abyss-
and yet there came the star
and the child most wonderfully there.
It was time like this
of fear & lust for power,
license & greed and blight-
and yet the Prince of bliss
came into the darkest hour
in quiet & silent light.
And in a time like this
how celebrate his birth
when all things fall apart?
Ah! Wonderful it is
with no room on the earth
the stable is our heart.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Paying Attention
Firstly apologies to those who have been checking in over the last few months as I have been somewhat distracted. Love does that too you - makes some things much less significant. There is also the Facebook factor. Nearly all my friends have stopped or become much less frequent bloggers. Could it be that we are all spending so much time updating our status and stalking each other on facebook that we have no creative energy left for blogging. Perhaps Facebook is the new TV - its not evil in itself but it can suck our time and creativity from us. And I say Down with that sort of thing !
But on to happier things.
Autumn - that season of mists and mellow fruitfulness/ close bosom friend of the departing sun - has been late and lingering here in Sanctus Boscus. This morning the sun was shining, the air was cold and bracing and I was on my bike. It was glorious as I puffed my way to the top of the mountain, cycling on a golden carpet of fallen leaves and paying attention to the swaying trees. At the top I sat in the breeze and watched the ships on the blue Lough below, thinking, and paying attention to the sacred everyday. It refreshed my soul.
I've been reading a lot of Mary Oliver recently. If you haven't read her please run to the nearest store now and pick up Snow Geese and Thirst. If you like poetry and have a pulse, you wont be disappointed. The greatest thing I've learnt from Mary -and its not a new lesson, though one I have to be reminded of - is to pay attention to whats around me, particularly the natural world. This morning there was bird song, wind in the trees and the rhythmic sound of my tyres on the leaf strewn path , praying a simple prayer of thanks for nothing more than being alive and able to enjoy this ....
I'll leave you with a poem from Thirst and promise to be more regular here and less on Facebook in the coming weeks.
Blessings
M
Praying
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris,it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones;just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
Mary Oliver
Thirst.
But on to happier things.
Autumn - that season of mists and mellow fruitfulness/ close bosom friend of the departing sun - has been late and lingering here in Sanctus Boscus. This morning the sun was shining, the air was cold and bracing and I was on my bike. It was glorious as I puffed my way to the top of the mountain, cycling on a golden carpet of fallen leaves and paying attention to the swaying trees. At the top I sat in the breeze and watched the ships on the blue Lough below, thinking, and paying attention to the sacred everyday. It refreshed my soul.
I've been reading a lot of Mary Oliver recently. If you haven't read her please run to the nearest store now and pick up Snow Geese and Thirst. If you like poetry and have a pulse, you wont be disappointed. The greatest thing I've learnt from Mary -and its not a new lesson, though one I have to be reminded of - is to pay attention to whats around me, particularly the natural world. This morning there was bird song, wind in the trees and the rhythmic sound of my tyres on the leaf strewn path , praying a simple prayer of thanks for nothing more than being alive and able to enjoy this ....
I'll leave you with a poem from Thirst and promise to be more regular here and less on Facebook in the coming weeks.
Blessings
M
Praying
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris,it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones;just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
Mary Oliver
Thirst.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Wherever you are, whatever you do, be in love
The words of the Sufi mystic poet Rumi. I find myself
travelling on the Seattle to Victoria clipper. Snowcapped mountains rise straight out of the Puget Sound. And I’m listening to my new love – Krista Tippet and the wonderful speaking of faith program on American Public Radio. Since Padraig introduced me to the wonder of Krista I’ve listened to the programmes with John O’Donohue, Elie Wiesel and Karen Armstrong. Today I’m listening to the Ecstatic Faith of Rumi with Fatima Keshavarz of Washington University.
Rumi was a 12th century Sufi mystic and poet who wrote in Persian and his influence is huge. He inspired the whirling dervishes by spinning around a column as he recited his poems. He also wrote some amazing sensual poetry. Fatima Keshavarz describes him as someone who saw human love as a mirror of the divine. His poetry is simultaneously in praise of God and also a more earthly love. He said everything is quickened or whirling in the face of love and there is no boundary between the two.
“How did Jesus raise the Dead. Kiss me on the lips. That is how.”
Longing itself is redemptive. Valuing perplexity – not knowing is a way of learning and propelling us forward. Rumi says we can never be done.
“Stay bewildered in God and only that.”
And perhaps finally something for our own fundamentalist age.
“Out beyond ideas of right doing and wrongdoing is a field. I will meet you there.”
The full programme is fantastic. Click on the title above to go straight to the Speaking of Faith website. I really believe it is the best thing on public radio. So check it out. It could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
M
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