May we reveal our abundance without shame.

may we peel back our sleeping wintry layers...

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

"Someone spoke to me last night,

told me the truth. Just a few words,

but I recognized it.

I knew I should make myself get up,

write it down, but it was late,

and I was exhausted from working

all day in the garden, moving rocks.

Now, I remember only the flavour-

not like food, sweet or sharp.

More like a fine powder, like dust.

And I wasn’t elated or frightened,

but simply rapt, aware.

That’s how it is sometimes-

God comes to your window,

all bright light and black wings,

and you’re just too tired to open it.

"It's okay to want,

if wanting is all you want.

It's okay to fear,

if fearing is all you fear.

It's okay to hate,

if the only reason you hate

is to love"

Chris Bourne

“There is a burning desire in this space in time,

a burning desire for another colour of boredom,

a burning desire for another way to express the expressionless,

a burning desire to be everything that ‘is’ and nothing that ‘is not’,

a burning desire to be ‘is not’ knowing that ‘is’ will re appear

like a brilliant star on the other side of a black hole,

a burning desire to be burned out desire.

Learning to love differently is hard,

love with the hands wide open, love

with the doors banging on their hinges,

the cupboard unlocked, the wind

roaring and whimpering in the rooms

rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds

that thwack like rubber bands

in an open palm.

It hurts to love wide open

stretching the muscles that feel

as if they are made of wet plaster,

then of blunt knives, then

of sharp knives.

"The one witnessed by itself – wants to be heard

The one being heard by itself wishes to speak

The one being spoken to by itself wishes to know itself by the hand of God,

Beingness opens to itself, being witnesses in another,

Result – Being in bliss"

Caroline Des-Rivieres

"In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,

coming back to this life from the other more secret,

moveable and frighteningly honest world where everything began,

there is a small opening into the day which closes the moment you begin your plans.

What you can plan is too small for you to live.

What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough

for the vitality hidden in your sleep.

I awoke this morning in the gold light

turning this way and that.

thinking for a moment it was one

day like any other.

But the veil had gone from my

darkened heart and I thought

it must have been the quiet

candlelight that filled my room,

it must have been the first

easy rhythm with which I breathed

myself to sleep,

it must have been the prayer I said

speaking to the otherness of the night.

“A cloud does not know why it moves

in just such as direction and at such a speed.

It feels an impulsion...this is the way to go now.

But the sky knows the reasons and the patterns

behind all clouds, and you will know too,

when you lift yourself high enough

to see beyond horizons