• poems

    Facing the Coming Storms

    We will be known as a culture that feared death
    and adored power, that tried to vanquish insecurity
    for the few and cared little for the penury of the
    many. We will be known as a culture that taught
    and rewarded the amassing of things, that spoke
    little if at all about the quality of life for
    people, for dogs, for rivers. All
    the world, in our eyes, they will say, was a
    commodity. And they will say that this structure
    was held together politically, which it was, and
    they will say also that our politics was no more
    than an apparatus to accommodate the feelings of
    the heart, and that the heart, in those days,
    was small, and hard, and full of meanness.

    Mary Oliver
    Red Bird (2008)

    I’ll begin by saying it seems the majority of the world does not have the ability to develop relationships, even with themselves. I’m not sure I could 20 years ago. There is more focus on ourselves, our wants and a fear of losing what we already have. Relationships ask us to step out of our comfort zones and change. Thus, we have a world in constant turmoil and conflict with seemingly few solutions and people become disheartened. 

    I have changed throughout my life and hopefully for the better. Some changes have come from pain and suffering and some from asking questions that uncover self-knowledge already within me. I attribute some of that to my journaling. Many of those pages are filled with questions. Wonderfully each question leads to another question and another and another…. Can I look for the similarities in others rather than differences? Can I accept that I am not the center of the universe but a small, significant part of all of creation? Can I have the courage to believe others may have more to teach me than I have to teach them, requiring me to always remain a student? Can I believe peace starts within me, the small world I can touch and then spreads outward, not the other way? Can I be willing to take action in my life to stand up against any neglect, abuse, and stigmatization of all creation? Can I respect all of life? Can I change my way of living without expecting the rest of the world to change with me? I’ve become a firm believer that once there is a psychic change within anyone’s life they and the world around them change. And, what about this thing called forgiveness? How well do I forgive? Contrary to some, true change always starts with me! Having said that, can I now, like the mosquito in a tent, believe that I can make an impact on the world no matter how insignificant that may seem? Am I willing to take the risk to change, to be attacked by those who cannot relate or maybe unwilling to change themselves? History has shown that some have paid a high price when they change or suggest that we can change. We call them prophets. So, instead of living with a heart that is small, hard and full of meanness, I am seeking a larger heart that is soft and full of love. Can I believe my few words and actions can bring about change? Can I be the tree that stands on the ridge facing the storms of life?

  • clouds,  poems

    A Cloud

    I wandered lonely as a cloud
    That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
    When all at once I saw a crowd,
    A host, of golden daffodils;
    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

    Continuous as the stars that shine
    And twinkle on the milky way,
    They stretched in never-ending line
    Along the margin of a bay:
    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
    Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

    The waves beside them danced; but they
    Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
    A poet could not but be gay,
    In such a jocund company:
    I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
    What wealth the show to me had brought:

    For oft, when on my couch I lie
    In vacant or in pensive mood,
    They flash upon that inward eye
    Which is the bliss of solitude;
    And then my heart with pleasure fills,
    And dances with the daffodils.

    William Wordsworth (1802)
  • Avian,  poems

    Listen With Their Hearts

    the meadowlark sings his song
    from it’s perch atop an old fence post

    what seems to be just a melody to some
    is a beautiful song of love and hope

    a gift carried by the wind to those
    who will listen with their hearts

    mws
  • clouds,  horizons,  landscape,  poems,  poetry,  storm clouds

    The voices of the rain…

    “I close my eyes and listen to the voices of the rain.”

    Robin Wall Kimmerer

    The wind blows in my face. Mesmerized, I watch, listen and accept the day’s gift from nature. I am privileged and grateful to have this front row seat. I watch the sun’s rays break through clouds, reaching down and touching the earth. I watch rain fall from the dark ominous clouds releasing their gift that nourishes the land. I watch the wind constantly reshaping the clouds, carrying them along the mountains. I watch the grass dancing excitedly in the wind in front of me. I am too far away to hear the voices of the rain but I do close my eyes and listen to the voice of the wind, urging me to dance with the grass. How can I not be filled with awe and wonder, holding them tightly on this Earth Day 2024.

    A Prayer on Earth Day 2024 

    We give thanks for Your gifts of awe, wonder and beauty.
    For Your voice heard in the winds of each season,
    the meadowlark’s song, the rumble of thunderstorms,
    the undulations of the ocean’s waves,
    the silence heard in a spring snowstorm,
    and especially for the fruits of Your bounty
    that sustains all of life.

    May we always be aware there are no political solutions
    to our spiritual problem of indifference and the abuse we cause.
    But may we know we are chosen stewards,
    whose task it is to live in harmony with all of creation.

    May we live every day in celebration and gratitude of life! 
    May we allow You to transform us in the very ground of our being.
    And, may the Great Mystery of all life fill us with love.

    mws

  • Avian,  landscape,  meadowlark,  poems

    For Solitude

    A meadowlark perched on the fence sings from the light of its soul

    May you recognize in your life the presence,
    power and light of your soul.

    May you realize that you are never alone,
    that your soul in its brightness and belonging
    connects you intimately with the rhythm of the
    universe.

    May you have respect for your own individuality and
    difference.

    May you realize that the shape of your soul is
    unique, that you have a special destiny here,
    that behind the facade of your life
    there is something beautiful and eternal happening.

    May you learn to see your self
    with the same delight,
    pride, and expectation
    with which God sees you in every moment.

    John O’Donohue from “To Bless the Space Between Us”
  • poems,  shadows

    a silent miracle

    dancing sunlight through a window
    unpredictable, playfull, offering delight
    suddenly emerging, spreading its gift
    the eyes see, the heart recognizes
    a silent miracle of the familiar1Inspired by a John O’Donohue Poem

    mws
  • poems,  poetry,  seasons,  shadows,  snow,  winter scenes

    The Source Within

    Everything you see has its roots
    In the unseen world.
    The forms may change
    Yet the essence remains the same.
    Every wondrous site will vanish,
    Every sweet word will fade,
    But do not be disheartened,
    The Source they come from is Eternal,
    Growing, branching out,
    Giving new life and new joy.
    Why do you weep?
    That source is within you
    And this whole world
    Is springing up from it.

    Rumi
  • leaves,  love,  poems,  shadows,  snow

    … and never looks away

    A small part of our amazing winter wonderland this morning

    I stand in the midst of creation’s wheel
    And watch in wonder the quiet majesty of its turning.
    We are in the care of a love without limit or definition
    Under the protection of a love that never looks away.

    Steven Charleston

    It is Monday morning and we have fresh snow on the ground, clear blue skies and sunshine. I am grateful to be a witness to this beautiful winter wonderland. Today I am missing my mother who would have been 92 today. I also can say I miss her with a love that is without limits. Not sure I would have said that as a teenager which makes me grateful for my growing maturity. I’m also grateful for the belief that there is a caring love (and I speak of love as an action word, not a noun) that never looks away. I have experienced such love in family, friends and nature. So, I pray today for the gift of sharing with a love I’ve experienced which is without limits and never looks away.