liveonearth: (Default)
“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
― William Martin
liveonearth: (Default)
What I Have Learned So Far

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world? Because, properly
attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.

Can one be passionate about the just, the
ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit
to no labor in its cause? I don’t think so.

All summations have a beginning, all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
Thought buds toward radiance. The gospel of
light is the crossroads of — indolence, or action.
Be ignited, or be gone.

~ Mary Oliver
liveonearth: (Spidey: come into my parlour)
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi
liveonearth: (tree trunks)

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget that perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s where the light gets in.

—Leonard Cohen

liveonearth: (key to my heart)

Come, come, whoever you are.

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.

It doesn't matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times

Come, yet again, come, come. 

-Jalaluddin Rumi

liveonearth: (moon)

Nothing that is worth doing
can be achieved in our lifetime;
therefore, we must be saved by hope. ...
Nothing we do, however virtuous,
can be accomplished alone;
therefore, we are saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous
from the standpoint of our friend or foe
as it is from our standpoint.
Therefore, we must be saved
by the final form of love,
which is forgiveness.

—Reinhold Niebuhr

liveonearth: (moon)

STILL I RISE

Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

liveonearth: (moon)

Willing to die,

You give up

Your will, keep still

Until, moved

By what moves

All else,

......you move.


--Wendell Berry

liveonearth: (Montana Mountains)

Above There Is The Mountain

And at its foot, the summer refuge---

sanctuary in town and yards under spreading

boughs of evergreens

Beneath the mountain’s wild, they find

their forage: shrubs, wild plants and the feast

of dropped fruit spread about the ground

Those with antlers come alone

Those without bring offspring---fawns

following last year’s babes nearly grown

Late summer afternoons, they descend

like evening shadows slipping down the slopes

and fanning out within the town

By night they feed; by moon they play

How swift they are, even the smallest ones

with stripes and spots

Under moonlight, they suckle then break

for cover---like wind itself---practicing escape

Neither are claws imaginary;

real and raw are the marks

which groove some yearlings’ flanks

Quiet coming, quieter still in going,

all gather again at first light, a full herd

of phantoms ready to depart

before the sun soars above the trees

At town’s edge, the solitary bucks

begin to bound---sharp hooves pounding

respect into pliant earth

Near forest, they pause, heads high,

nostrils flaring to test the morning breeze

Hidden high beneath the mountain’s brushy

crown: a flash of eye shine gold green,

the presence sensed but rarely seen

-Peter Hensel

liveonearth: (critter)
You can't talk about the ocean
with a frog who lives in a well;
he is bounded by the space he inhabits.

You can't talk about ice
with an insect who was born in June;
he is bounded by a single season.

You can't talk about Tao
with a person who thinks he knows something;
he is bounded by his own beliefs

The Tao is vast and fathomless.
You can understand only by stepping
beyond the limits of yourself.


From the Chaung Tzu. 17
via Stephen Mitchell, The Second Book of the Tao.

Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] bobby1933 at But I Don't Know The Frogs Language Or Mind, And Can't Know What The Frog Knows.
liveonearth: (moon)
This young man is 21 years old and just starting his last year of college, and this is his second album. Each track has a different sound, except for the strong, honest, edgy vocals from HG. In person he is a little bit shy, but get to know him and you'll find a compassionate and humorous young man. The sadness, frustration and anger that come through in his music are less evident in person, hence perhaps the title.

If you ask me he is finding his voice. When I first met him he had a head-down posture of a subordinate sulking teen. In the last two years he has begun to carry himself upright and to meet my gaze, and to have his say when he wants to. This change in posture correlates with what a yogi might call an opening of the throat chakra.

His album is a commentary on the struggle of young adulthood to find meaning, solidify an authentic identity and rise above the limitations imposed by the judgements of others.

You can download the whole album for free right now at:
https://soundcloud.com/hayden-gehr/sets/voiceless
liveonearth: (blue mountain painting)
You can cut
all the flowers
but you cannot
keep Spring from coming.

~Pablo Neruda
liveonearth: (chickadee in snow)
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.

Keep Going

Jan. 9th, 2014 12:02 pm
liveonearth: (peace sign)
Never Give Up
Wednesday 26 December 2007, by HH the XIV Dalai Lama
poem )
liveonearth: (key to my heart)
In your light
I learn how to love.
In your beauty,
how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest,
where no one sees you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art.
liveonearth: (flower and bird)
The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
liveonearth: (flower white bell)
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work,
but neither are you free to abandon it.

-The Talmud

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