Seasons of the Soul

Simultaneously

I Create God In My World

With Gentleness and Gratitude

With Loving Acts Of Kindness

With Warm Words Of Giving

With Forgiving Bands Of Friendship

With A Joyous Heart Of Oneness

With Abundant Rings Of Mercy

With Overflowing Respect For All Life

With Connected Awareness

Of Being

With Self Love Knowing That I Am His Likeness

I Am His Vision

I Am His Actions

I Am His Thoughts

I Am His Spirit

I Am His Peace

I Am

 So That I May Be Like Him

I Am

So All Can Be Like Him

I Create God

 As He Created Me

Simultaneously

~Hal Manogue
www.shortsleeves.net

Miracles

 

Why, who makes much of a miracle?

As to me, I know of nothing but miracles,

Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,

Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses towards the sky,

Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the ledge of the water

Or stand under the trees in the woods,

Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,

Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,

Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,

Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,

Or animals feeding in the fields,

Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,

Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,

Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring,

These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,

The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,

Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,

Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,

Every foot of the interior swarms with the same,

To me the sea is a continual miracle,

The fishes that swim - the rocks - the motion of the waves - the ships with men in them,

What stranger miracles are there?

                    ~Walt Whitman

Transformation

Oh, wondrous splendor!

Leaves as pages of our lives

falling into space of void,

fodder for renewal.

Needing nothing but the flask

for filling up the empty cider.

Stinging nettles, prickly pears...

Life’s rose amidst the thorns.

“Ah”...he cries, though vanquished by a distant foe.

Now...the herald angels sing

 Hosanna...Oh, on High!

And so they hover...

    Golden wingspan crossing wisdom’s gate.

       

“Is it too late?” the young man cries beside the road.

Never too late...Never too late.

The doors of heaven fling wide open

Bidding Welcome...

        

The Myth of Separation gone.

~KJ

Old English Song

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
 
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And order'd their estate.
 
The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−
 
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,−
He made them every one:
 
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;−
 
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
Amen

My Friend, Alix Taylor

My dear friend, Alix Taylor Robertson passed over this year on my birthday. We had been very close, and her passing was a great loss.
Alix has left a legacy of work behind that would make anyone proud. Yet, I’m sure she felt to the end that she hadn’t done all she could do. She thought of herself as a difficult case, and we laughed often about our mutual rebellious attitudes to what we felt we were “supposed” to do.
Alix wrote several books, including her beautiful autobiography, A Door Ajar,  and in her last few years turned to poetry. I’d like to share some of them with you here as a way of honoring the lady I hold very dear to my heart.

Rumi
“There’s a field,” Rumi said.     
“I’ll meet you there.”                    
I waited and waited.                     
I watched the corn blowing        
in the next field making its dry   Rustling sound,                        
And watched the geese              
Walking away from the distant pond.                                          
I even thought I saw a leaf         
turn yellow on the little oak tree.                                          
Rumi never came.                    
And no poetry sprouted from the ground                                      
Or blew in with the breeze.

The Light
Where are you going? He asked.      
Into the light, I said.                       
Where is the light? He asked.        
It’s around you, around me, ahead of us.                                             
I don’t see it, he said.                     
 Keep walking, I said.                     
 Can you see the light? He asked.      
Yes, I said. I can see its edge        
And I’m heading for its center.         
How will I ever see the light? He asked.                                           
 Close your eyes, I said.

I Heard A Voice
I heard a voice.                                 
It said “Bee”?                                
It said, “Be.” You know                 
Bees can do things I cannot do.     
They take something from inside themselves                                   
And something from outside—         
The pollen from the flower —        
And make something totally new, 
Totally different, something          
That was not there before.             
I cannot do this. But the voice said, “Be”.                                  
And I threw the doors of my heart open                                              
And light flowed in,                      
And something I did not know was inside                                     
Flowed out like honey.

God speed, dear friend!

From Seasons of the Soul print edition 2005

The Birth of the Day

Awake!

Behold the morning!

The universe is re-created for you!

The sun comes forth this day

On its infinite path of love.

It reveals the magic of every leaf;

Every daffodil, robin, cloud, and lake;

Every Mountain, chipmunk, and dolphin.

Yes, every blade of grass.

 

The darkness of night is preparation

For the blessings of the day.

Say a prayer of thankfulness

Each morning as you awaken.

Speak it as the very first thought

That comes into your mind.

Let thankfulness come first:

Before all ills and tribulations.

Yes, even before thought itself.

 

Inside, in the center of your soul,

There is happiness.

 

Allow thankfulness to bathe you.

God wants you to be happy.

And since the beginning of time,

God has given you the ability

To make it so.

 

Say a prayer of thankfulness;

Extend your wings –

Soar upward and outward;

To overcome the world.

 

Stanley Peele

June 7, ‘09

=

Poem by Kabir

Don’t go outside your house to see flowers.
My friend, don’t bother with that excursion.
Inside your body there are flowers.
One flower has a thousand petals. 
That will do for a place to sit.
Sitting there you will have a glimpse of beauty
inside the body and out of it,
before gardens and after gardens.

~The Kabir Book
Robert Bly version

The Swan

  This laboring through what is still undone, as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way, is like the awkward walking of the swan.
And dying—to let go, no longer feel the solid ground we stand on every day– is like his anxious letting himself fall
Into the water, which receives him gently and which, as though with reverence and joy, draws back past him in streams on either side; while infinitely silent and aware, in his full majesty and ever more indifferent, he condescends to glide.
-Rainer Maria Rilke

Peace Begins With Me

I AM the serenity of a cool, calm lake.
I AM the strength of an old oak tree.
I AM the sweet music of a songbird.
I AM the fountain that sings with delight.
I AM the candle that burns brightly in the darkness.
I AM the nurturing embrace of a loving mother.
I AM the teardrop of joy.
I AM the ripple of laughter from an innocent child.
I AM the hand that reaches out to hold another in compassion.
I AM the heart that believes with faith.
I AM the flame of eternal Love.
I AM the pillar of Truth.
I AM the inner knowing of Oneness.
I AM the Love of the Creator.
I AM you, who is me.
I AM THAT I AM.
I AM LOVE.
I AM PEACE.
~Author unknown

Food for Thought

A man should never be ashamed to own that he has been in the wrong, which is but saying that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.
  ~Alexander Pope
                 ~~~~~~~~
There’s a worm addicted to eating grape leaves.
Suddenly, he wakes up, call it grace, whatever,
something wakes him, and he’s no longer a worm.
He’s the entire vineyard,
and the orchard too,
the fruit, the trunks,
a growing wisdom and joy
that doesn’t need to devour.
                          ~Rumi