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Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, from the other side of the planet I offer this beautiful poetry from Saint Mary Oliver via Panhala:

 Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way 

If you’re John Muir you want trees to live among. If you’re Emily, a garden will do.

Try to find the right place for yourself.

If you can’t find it, at least dream of it.

When one is alone and lonely, the body gladly lingers in the wind or the rain, or splashes into the cold river, or pushes through the ice-crusted snow.

Anything that touches.

God, or the gods, are invisible, quite understandable. But holiness is visible, entirely.

Some words will never leave God’s mouth, no matter how hard you listen.

In all the works of Beethoven, you will not find a single lie.

All important ideas must include the trees, the mountains, and the rivers.

To understand many things you must reach out of your own condition.

For how many years did I wander slowly through the forest.

What wonder and glory I would have missed had I ever been in a hurry!

Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still it explains nothing.

The point is, you’re you, and that’s for keeps.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Felicity)

 Earth Song 

Listen to things more often than beings.
Hear the voice of the fire, hear the voice of the water,
Listen in the wind to the sighing of the bush:
This is the ancestors breathing. 
Those who are dead are never gone;
The dead are not down in the earth:
They are in the trembling of the trees,
In the groaning of the woods,
In the water that runs, in the water that sleeps,
They are in the hut, they are in the crowd.
Those who are dead are not ever gone;
They are in the woman’s breast, they are in the wailing of a child,
They are in the burning log and in the moaning rock.
They are in the weeping grasses, in the forest and the home.
Listen to things more often than beings.
Hear the voice of fire, hear the voice of water.
Listen in the wind to the sighing of the bush. 
This is the ancestors breathing.   

(Traditional from Senegal, translator unknown)

Friends, there may be a gap in these blog postings until mid-April as I’ll be traveling.

 The Real Work 

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work, 

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey. 

The mind that is not baffled is not employed. 
The impeded stream is the one that sings.  

~ Wendell Berry ~ 

(Collected Poems)

What actions are most excellent? 

To gladden the heart of a human being. 
To feed the hungry. 
To help the afflicted. 
To lighten the sorrow of the sorrowful. 
To remove the wrongs of the injured. 
That person is the most beloved of God 
who does the most good to God’s creatures. 

~  Muhammad ~ 

 Wildpeace 

Not the peace of a cease-fire 
not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb, 
but rather 
as in the heart when the excitement is over 
and you can talk only about a great weariness. 
I know that I know how to kill, that makes me an adult. 
And my son plays with a toy gun that knows 
how to open and close its eyes and say Mama. 
A peace 
without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,
without words, without 
the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be 
light, floating, like lazy white foam. 
A little rest for the wounds – who speaks of healing? 
(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation 
to the next, as in a relay race: 
the baton never falls.) 

Let it come 
like wildflowers, 
suddenly, because the field 
must have it: wildpeace. 

~ Yehuda Amichai ~ 

(The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai, translated by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell) 

From Panhala

 Ninth Duino Elegy
(excerpt) 

Praise the world to the angel: leave the unsayable aside.
Your exalted feelings do not move him.
In the universe, where he feels feelings, you are a beginner.
Therefore show him what is ordinary, what has been
shaped from generation to generation, shaped by hand and eye.
Tell him of things.  He will stand still in astonishment,
the way you stood by the ropemaker in Rome
or beside the potter on the Nile.
Show him how happy a thing can be, how innocent and ours,
how even a lament takes pure form,
serves as a thing, dies as a thing,
while the violin, blessing it, fades. 

And the things, even as they pass,
understand that we praise them.
Transient, they are trusting us
to save them – us, the most transient of all.
As if they wanted in our invisible hearts
to be transformed
into – oh, endlessly – into us. 

Earth, isn’t this what you want?  To arise in us, invisible?
Is it not your dream, to enter us so wholly
there’s nothing left outside us to see?
What, if not transformation,
is your deepest purpose?  Earth, my love,
I want that too.  Believe me,
no more of your springtimes are needed
to win me over – even one flower
is more than enough.  Before I was named
I belonged to you.  I seek no other law
but yours, and know I can trust
the death you will bring. 

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~

(In Praise of Mortality, trans. and edited Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)

I found this so moving and beautiful. “God utters me like a word.” “God… has called us… into the unknown.

From Emergence Magazine:

https://emergencemagazine.org/story/on-the-road-with-thomas-merton/

In May 1968, Christian mystic Thomas Merton undertook a pilgrimage to the American West. Fifty years later, filmmaker Jeremy Seifert and writer Fred Bahnson set out to follow Merton’s path, retracing the monk’s journey across the landscape. Amid stunning backdrops of ocean, redwood, and canyon, the film features the faces and voices of people Merton encountered. The essay offers a more intimate meditation on Merton’s life and the relevance of the spiritual journey today.