Lightly child, lightly.

Yes,
we have lost track of the light,
the mornings,
the holy innocence of those who forgive themselves.

— Albert Camus, The Fall (Vintage Books, 1957)

 


Notes:

  • Art:  (via mennyfox55). Quote: Vale of Soul Making
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Saturday Morning

ear-pale

How are you?
Silence again.
Fine, fine, I mumble, fine,
unraveling like string…

Sandra Cisneros, from “Drought” in My Wicked Ways: Poems


Notes:

Morning Call

Today, if you’re confronting an issue for the ten thousandth time, or feeling that your life is going nowhere, or panicking over how little you’ve achieved, stop and breathe. You’re not falling behind on some linear race through time. You’re walking the labyrinth of life. Yes, you’re meant to move forward, but almost never in a straight line.

Martha Beck, from The Labyrinth of Life


Notes:

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

meerkat


Source: Male Mouse Lemur by Malcolm S. Ramsay (via Cheetah Camp). Found only on the island of Madagascar.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

cascadia-cody-cobb

Dawn is like dumping milk into an inkwell.
First, there are erratic curdles of white, then streamers.
Shade the bottle for a gray colloid, then watch it whiten a little more.
All of a sudden you’ve got day.
Then start heating the mixture.

~ Roger Zelazny, from The Doors of His Face, The Lamps of His Mouth

 


Notes: Quote – Memory’s Landscape. Photo: Cody Cobb with Cascadia

Saturday Morning

nest-sleep-silence

Silence
will carry your voice
like the nest that holds the sleeping birds.

~Rabindranath Tagore, from Stray Birds


Notes:

Quotes: Your Eyes Blaze Out. Photo: Sarah Treanor with “still life” (via Your Eyes Blaze Out).  Find all of Stray Birds @ eldrichpress.org.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

eric-rose-light-face-portrait

An early riser, an optimist by nature, a lover of mornings, I’m always eager to launch myself into the day. And it doesn’t take much to make me happy: A cup of strong coffee laced with cream or a handful of frozen blueberries from my summer-stash in the freezer, a silly joke shared with my husband, a good-morning text from a far-away friend, the hairy woodpecker hanging upside-down at the feeder, busily extracting his morning ration of sunflower seeds, a sky fluid with traveling clouds executing their own sublime choreography, or a soft grey mantle of mist draped across the nearby hills. Looking around at the life I’m privileged to live, I see much to be grateful for.

~ Katrina Kenison, from Mending the World (Jan 20, 2017)

 


Notes:

 

Tuesday Morning Wake-Up Call

cereal-peach-breakfast

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.

~ Jane Kenyon, from “Otherwise in Collected Poems. The poem was written shortly before Kenyon died of leukemia at age 47.

 


Photo: Christopher Gould

Every morning, even before I open my eyes

simone-de-beauvoir

Every morning, even before I open my eyes, I know I am in my bedroom and my bed. But if I go to sleep after lunch in the room where I work, sometimes I wake up with a feeling of childish amazement — why am I myself? What astonishes me, just as it astonishes a child when he becomes aware of his own identity, is the fact of finding myself here, and at this moment, deep in this life and not in any other. What stroke of chance has brought this about? What astonishes me, just as it astonishes a child when he becomes aware of his own identity, is the fact of finding myself here, and at this moment, deep in this life and not in any other.

~ Simone de Beauvoir (1908–1986) in her autobiography, All Said and Done 

 


Source: Brainpickings – Simone de Beauvoir on the Constellation of Chance and Choice That Makes Us Who We Are

 

Dawn in the north. His nose stalks the air.

coffee

I want to describe my life
in hushed tones
like a TV nature program.
Dawn in the north.
His nose stalks the air
for newborn coffee.

~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry

 


Notes: Photo via Your Eyes Blaze Out

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