<
CESSATION OF QUANTUM DIMENSIONS’ PERCEPTIONS
THAT DISTURB/DISTORT
ORIGINAL CORE PEACE
=
A GENTLE, CONTINUOUS PEELING/SHEDDING
OF
LIFE SNUFFING EXCESSES
ALL HAPPENING WITHOUT CONSCIOUS EFFORT
A BEYOND BELIEF & WORDS ALIGNMENT/ATTUNEMENT
CORE OF ORIGIN PRESIDES
ew
5:24 AM-4/26/20
that strength is always loud
the softest sounds are made
when the sun bends train tracks
when seeds grown into cherry trees
when the moon moves the sea.
~srw
https://makebelieveboutique.com/2020/04/25/32215/
Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower
streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance–
such wild love–
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure
that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you
as you stand there,
empty-handed–
turned from this world–
or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
~Mary Oliver
https://makebelieveboutique.com/2020/04/25/32215/
by introspection and meditation,
but strong, deep-rooted ones
must be fulfilled and their fruits,
sweet or bitter,
tasted.
—Nisargadatta Maharaj
Posted by atloveisaplace at
Friday, April 24, 2020
Harbour Island, Bahamas-one year ago
ALL IS AS IT IS "...nothing to believe." "..the timeless divine." "A wild woman..." April 26, 2019
click above link to open above OceanSpeak
AFTERNOON
the whole gift of the day.
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through which the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
—Pablo Neruda
https://peacefullpresence.blogspot.com/2020/04/small-bird-on-fire.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+blogspot%2FmnCFM+%28Love+Is+A+Place%29
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not, how shall
I correct it?
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
and gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
Mary Oliver
https://contemplativedaybook.blogspot.com/2020/04/what-me-worry.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ContemplativeDayBook+%28Contemplative+Day+Book%29