YES!
ew
3:44 AM - 1/13/16
ALLOWS “IT” TO HAPPEN
ew
7:21 AM - 1/13/16
When one has weighed the sun in the balance,
and measured the steps of the moon,
and mapped out the seven heavens star by star,
there still remains oneself.
Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?
~Oscar Wilde
http://makebelieveboutique.com/2016/01/11/14516/
a season of rest
from the wheel of the mind.
~ John Geddes
http://makebelieveboutique.com/2016/01/11/14516/
the red sky before sunrise
over the fields of time.
you are the dew and the bells of matins,
maiden, stranger, mother, death.
that rise from the stuff of our days -
unsung, unmourned, undescribed,
like a forest we never know.
(∞D)
THERE IS NO CONCEPT/PRECEPT OF ATTACHMENT
NOTHING TO ATTACH TO
<
ONLY A SENSE
OF
MUTUALLY MATCHED & DANCED BEING
ew
3:53 PM - 1/13/16
I started looking for you.
…..Rumi
http://makebelieveboutique.com/2013/09/16/7059/
http://makebelieveboutique.com/2013/09/16/7059/
http://makebelieveboutique.com/2013/05/25/5962/
You are the universe in ecstatic motion.
Rumi
Post sunrise
7:12 AM
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
FOCUSING ON HOW HIGH TIDES HAVE BEEN AT SANCTARII…..
A HUGE BIRD FLIES OUT FROM UNDER GAZEBO…WAS SO STUNNED RE THE SYNCHRONICITY OF THIS
WE MISSED GETTING A PHOTO OF HER….
WAS FEELING VERY DIFFERENT AND SMOOTH THIS MORNING….NOONE ON BEACH…CLOUDY….BUT SAND IS VELVET TO MY AWAKE FEET
PERHAPS THERE WAS A PAUSE & WONDERING RE: WHAT IS NEXT FOR THIS LIFE…..
WHEN IT LOOKS AS THOUGH HIGH TIDES OF STALLS, EROSIONS AND PAUSES KEEP HAPPENING…..
THEN THE BIRD WHOOSHES OUT OF HIDING…EVEN CIRCLED BACK A LITTLE BIT TOWARDS ME FROM HER FLIGHT SOUTH…
ONLY AFTER witing the above, are we remembering the title for OceanSpeak and the Whisper earlier this morning
COULD IT BE THIS SIMPLE?
YES…THAT WAS WHAT WAS HAPPENING WITH ME ON BEACH THIS MORNING JUST PRIOR TO MOTHER BIRD APPEARANCE.
BE STILL AND ALLOW IT TO HAPPEN!
COULD IT BE SO SIMPLE AS IT IS?
YES!
ew
3:44 AM - 1/13/16
BEING ABSOLUTE’S STILLNESS…..
ALLOWS “IT” TO HAPPEN
ew
7:21 AM - 1/13/16
the red sky before sunrise
over the fields of time.
You are the cock's crow when night is done,
you are the dew and the bells of matins,
maiden, stranger, mother, death.
You create yourself in ever-changing shapes
that rise from the stuff of our days -
unsung, unmourned, undescribed,
like a forest we never know.
You are the deep innerness of all things,
the last word that can never be spoken.
To each of us you reveal yourself differently:
to the ship as coastline, to the shore as a ship.
Rainer Maria Rilke
http://beingsilentlydrawn.blogspot.com.au/2016/01/the-deep-innerness-of-all-things.html