Source:
- Photo by David Gulden. DON’T MISS his portfolio at davidgulden.com
- Image Source from National Parks Traveler (via Newthom).
- Photo of Rhinos can be located The Centre Cannot Hold by David Gulden.
Tag: Photography
Listen . . . Listen . . .
Tune to the frequency of the wood and
you’ll hear the deer, breathing; a muscle, tensing;
the sigh of a field mouse under an owl.
Now listen to yourself —
that friction — the push-and-drag,
the double pulse, the drum.
You can hear it, clearly.
You can hear the sound of your body, breaking down.
If you’re very quiet, you might pick up loss:
or rather the thin noise that losing makes — perdition.
If you’re absolutely silent and still,
you can hear nothing but the sound of nothing:
this voice and its wasting, the soul’s tinsel.
Listen . . .
Listen . . .
~ Robin Robertson, Tinsel from Sailing the Forest: Selected Poems (Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 2014 )
Notes:
- Poem: Thank you Beth at Alive on All Channels
- Photo: Elif Sanem Karaoke with High
Walking Cross-Town. Stopped By Three.
There were three moments that stuck, that hijacked the ever-present Consumption, that tireless Rat, Work, gnawing at the tubular intestines. It was Tuesday morning. The train arrived at Grand Central Station. I glance at my watch. It’s 8:26 a.m., plenty of runway for my 9:00 a.m. meeting across town.
Moment One: Mom.
The feet of a throng of commuters shuffle forward a few steps at a time. We are moving to the doorway, a bottleneck, leading to two flights of stairs (steep) and down to the underground passage, and then up the escalators onto Madison Street.
She was directly to my left pushing a stroller. Her Baby, leaning back, face invisible, is docile. Mom is wearing beige slacks, black flats and a sharp, fitted brown spring coat. Early 30’s. Moderate build – 5′ 5″ tall. No brief case, no baby-item shoulder bag.
We are 30 feet away. How will she get that stroller down?
The commuters are diverse, it’s late morning, Suits mix with administrative staff, construction workers and students. But, among the masses, there are no children. And certainly no Mothers pushing babies in strollers. We shuffle forward.
We’re 20 feet away.
The line slows in front of us. We stop. I’m waiting for her to grab her child, fold up the stroller and prepare for the cautious trek down the stairs. She makes no moves. Continue reading “Walking Cross-Town. Stopped By Three.”
Saturday Morning
Why does the sound of rain gently tapping on the roof and windows instantly relieve stress?
It is a reminder of survival, an appreciation for being safe, dry, and warm, the most basic of needs.
Therein lies a secret to contentment; to remind ourselves regularly of the satisfaction of our basic needs, to appreciate another moment of survival, and forget the extraneous factors that cause us undue stress.
Image: Frank Telli Blog
Lightly child, lightly. (Reply? Yes!)
Sometimes, when a bird cries out,
Or the wind sweeps through a tree,
Or a dog howls in a far off farm,
I hold still and listen a long time.
My soul turns and goes back to the place
Where, a thousand forgotten years ago,
The bird and the blowing wind
Were like me, and were my brothers.
My soul turns into a tree,
And an animal, and a cloud bank.
Then changed and odd it comes home
And asks me questions. How should I reply?
~ Herman Hesse, “Sometimes” (translated by Robert Bly)
Notes:
- Poem: Schonwieder. Photo:Laura Makabresku with Birds (via Hidden Sanctuary)
- 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.”