secret notebooks • wild pages: gifts.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

gifts.

freedom from the grip of pain.

reunions.
the absence of tears.
peace.
the reaping of faith's rewards.
love.
the realization of eternity.

10 comments:

Karen L R said...: oh, m, this is exquisite. thank you for sharing the twists and turns of your journey these past few months. it has been a blessing.; January 20, 2010 8:01 AM
ELK said...: a gift indeed...such truth here; January 20, 2010 8:17 AM
Leau said...: remember, cry until you quit, grieve any way you need to and tell anyone who tells you different to go to hell! I know it is a hard day for you and that you have great strength to draw on just because you are her daughter. truly a gift as are you my friend! smooches; January 20, 2010 8:23 AM
Suz said...: I came to your blog just as your mother was about to leave for eternity to join her people in peace
where there are no more tears no more pain
I was drawn to your journey...I think because I have been on such journies and survived as will you
your writing is outstanding
I read it and say yes yes that is how it is
I hope I have not intruded on your personal space
but your mother raised one fascinating talented woman
and you honor her with this poem; January 20, 2010 8:40 AM
Teri and the cats of Furrydance said...: grape hyacinths always remind me of the flowers yet to come...may you find joy in this new year...; January 20, 2010 3:14 PM
layers said...: love these words and your image-- how the absence of one thing leads to something wonderful.. and the snowman in your previous post-- wonderful-- have not see one is a long time.; January 20, 2010 3:46 PM
m. heart said...: Thank you all.
Suz, you are more than welcome here as are your thoughtful comments!; January 20, 2010 5:08 PM
Teri said...: Wow!!! Already poking out of the ground. I know that Spring is on the way when I see these poking their heads out of the ground. Your poem is wonderful and yes, eternal. Love is eternal also. As long as we remember they are always with us. The depth of your thoughts is remarkable, Melanie. I know this is a difficult time for you but know that we are all there for you. I send you a virtual hug, and I'm not letting go!; January 20, 2010 9:19 PM
Bethany said...: i like this.
gift in grief.
thanks for sharing them.
it's so good to know.
helpful.; January 20, 2010 11:23 PM
SE'LAH... said...: great poetry.
and photo; January 21, 2010 10:33 PM

Meditation on Affliction

Assailed by afflictions, we discover dharma and find the way to liberation. Thank you, evil forces!

When sorrows invade the mind, we discover dharma and find lasting happiness. Thank you, sorrows!

Through harm caused by spirits we discover dharma and find fearlessness. Thank you, ghosts and demons!

Through people's hate we discover dharma and find benefits and happiness. Thank you, those who hate us!

Through cruel adversity, we discover dharma and find the unchanging way. Thank you, adversity!

Through being impelled to by others, we discover dharma and find the essential meaning. Thank you, all who drive us on!

We dedicate our merit to you all, to repay your kindness.

— Gyalwa Longchenpa

Who Says Words With My Mouth?

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry, I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

— Rumi

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

gifts.

10 comments:

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