I am constantly surrounded by noise: TV, texts, the internet, music, meaningless small talk, my thinking. All of it blocks my consciousness, my ability to hear the ME that exists beneath the cacophony. I am my consciousness, my awareness of my circumstance, my presence in every moment. So I cultivate silence every morning. I sit in it, bask in it, wrap it around myself, and hear and feel me. Then, wherever the day takes me, the people I meet are the beneficiaries of my having taken that time – they get the real me, not someone shaped and altered by the noise around me. Silence is the stuff of life.
Richard Wagamese, Embers: One Ojibway’s Meditations
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Inner silent land…
Sometimes I can be overwhelmed when too many conversations are going on in my head. These disruptive conversations can be a distraction from the present moment. It reminds me of the intense chatter of the magpie sitting on the fence post near me as I witness the sunrise. It seems their only focus is about grabbing my attention, pulling me away. And, that chatter is so different, an irritating noise, rather than the songs of the heart I hear from the meadowlark or chickadee, which for me is more of an invitation to watch and listen. I am finding it a gift in learning to let go of my mind’s chatter and be more receptive to listening to my inner “silent land.” I hope you have had a wonderful Monday.
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Waking up to the sacred
Again, we need consciousness of soul, a waking up to the sacred interrelationship of all things, of every species and life-form, race and nation.
John Philip NewellHappy Saturday!
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Noticing the world…
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Silence of Early Mornings
“The body is a great reservoir of wisdom. Something as simple as bodily stillness and breathing make a contribution of untold value to discovering the unfathomable silence deep within us.”
Martin LairdA light rain fell during the night leaving the air soaked in moisture. I found it very invigorating to me when I stepped out the door and ventured into the new day. I witnessed the gift of sunrise at Pineridge Natural Area. As I looked east the foothills behind me had a dusting of light snow while low hanging clouds blanketed their peaks. But the warm colors of the rising sun and the golden glow on the rabbitbrush was where my photographer’s eye focused. I love the silence, the stillness of early mornings. Spring is quickly coming and change is inevitable. Hoping you have a wonderful day!
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Only the meadow remains…
In the early morning hours
mws
I sit in silence with the meadow and
allow her to embrace me.
I share the dawn of this new day
while listening to the owl’s cry
echo through the meadow.
This shared intimacy with the meadow
has a way of giving birth to new life
in the ground of my being.
… I am, therefore, never the same!
And, I hear in this sacred place
an unspoken invitation to return again
each time bringing an awareness that
each short visit is but a passing moment.
So, whenever and while I still can
I will sit with the meadow
until only the meadow remains.1This was inspired from a poem written by Li Po (Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain) in the book Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems. -
Filled with Silence
We were born with silence, and as we grew up we lost the silence and we were filled with words. We lived in our hearts, and as time passed we moved into our heads. Now the reverse of this journey is enlightenment. It is the journey from the head back to the heart, from words back to silence; getting back to our innocence in spite of our intelligence.
Eckhart TolleMy life is filled with silence. I have not listened to music for many years. And, when people share about their favorite music, musician or movie, I am unable to be a part of the conversation because my life no longer includes that. The music I most enjoy now is the silent sounds of nature. Therefore, I spend a lot of time in the local natural areas. Happy Sunday!
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“to listen”
And there is a fine distinction between “listen to” and “to listen.” When we “listen to” we are actively engaging our senses of sound for a particular audible cue. But, when we choose “to listen,” we are opening ourselves up to the sounds of silence and solitude; to ways and words unanticipated, unscripted and often—unfamiliar. We do not choose these words; they choose us.
Albert LewisI walked along the edges of one of the ponds at Arapaho Bend Natural Area yesterday evening. This pond is called Big Bass Pond, so I assume at least one large bass was caught there. The water is low until we see snow melt and rains in a the coming weeks. When I found a spot that spoke to me I set up my tripod and camera, grabbed my journal and pen and sat down on the uncomfortable rocky shore to soak it up. I would take a half dozen images then write, repeating for 40 minutes until my butt said that’s enough and I became chilled. I slowly found myself in a place “to listen” to the sound of the water lapping at me feet and feeling the cooling breeze in my face. The words were just what I needed. I hope on my next visit I will be again in a place “to listen”