It needs repeating over and over…

still poem for bloglr

This is a poem for someone who is juggling her life.

Be still sometimes. Be still sometimes.

It needs repeating over and over to catch her attention over and over because someone juggling her life finds it difficult to hear.

Be still sometimes. Be still sometimes.

Let it all fall sometimes.

 

Rose Cook
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August break, Day 2

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Day 2, Pattern

This month I’m joining Susannah Conway and many others around the world in the August Break project.

In addition to posting a photo a day, I’ll be sharing a link to the site/blog/portfolio/flickr stream of another photographer whose work I greatly admire and who is inspiring me on my photographic journey. (They may or may not be doing the project too.)

And I’ll be on the lookout for artists who are new to me but grab my attention this month.

Today, I’m excited about discovering Shawna Lemay who blogs at Calm Things. I ran across Shawna’s blog by chance following the links in another blog, as often happens. But when I touched down at Calm Things, I immediately felt both serenity and excitement, for there was poetry there, along with beautiful photography.

And everything resonated with me. Quotes and poetry from my favourite authors, monks and mystics…some I was familiar with, some I wasn’t. And quiet, homely and haunting pictures…What a treasure trove. Sheer bliss.

Shawna is a published poet who loves to make images. She’s a Canadian. Meet Shawna here.

Blue woman…

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Blue woman,

will shopping bring you true joy

when what you are dying to give

is your heart?

Over the holidays, my hope is that we all make time for more simple and real connection — with our loved ones, our communities, our fellow inhabitants of this unique planet, our natural world and our true selves.

I’ll be back on December 1 to start a practice of simplicity with Kim Manley Ort.

The day’s blank slate…

covernov

In the morning, everything is new.

The day’s blank slate lies before me,

ready for my writing.

May it be words of beauty I write.

May it be deeds of grace I do.

May it be thoughts of joy I think.

All the holy ones, listen;

this is what I pray.

Great spirits of the four realms,

Holy ones of the realms of minds,

Kindreds of yore,

as I go through the day,

keep my eyes open wide.

May I not miss beauty.

May I not miss joy.

May I not miss wonder.

Keep me awake and aware of the world.

 

Thanks to Ceisiwr Serith…

Rich spiced residues…

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leavesalmonte1000
orange dahlia1000

Fall Song

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries – roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

Mary Oliver
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I’ll be away from my blog for about a week. I look forward to catching up with you when I return. In the meantime, I hope you relish whatever particular delights this time of year offers in your part of the world!
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red leaf-1000b

Kim Klassen dot Com

Not knowing…

Mist

Taken en route to the dogsitter’s house around Clayton Lake, Ontario…

NOT KNOWING

how would it be to allow for knowing

and not knowing:

allowing room

for the mystery

of creating

to be able to wonder

softly

without needing to understand everything

to trust in the process

to trust in love

to trust in the mystery and wonder

of the universe

that beats softly wildly

true

all round about us,

that is hidden

in the mists

in the clouds and the rain

in the wind blowing and the rain lashing down on your window,

reminding you

poetically

prosaically

that this is where you are,

on the island,

at the edge,

in a place of finding

and refinding,

and remembering

to remember

the feel of the mist, wind and rain.

John O’Donohue