deep listening.
for the first time in months my mind is quiet. calm. it is small and my movements are small. seemingly new yet i know they're old - a soft determination speaks from a former mind - a person i once knew & loved. the essay i read struck the deep chords like a cello in my body - the impermanence of life and the necessity of love and truth in the corners of all the musky forsaken corners of this brown midwest. when i was done i wanted to take you and hold you. and just stand like that until time melted away. and my message was relayed through my embrace.
after class i stand on the bridge. grandfather's bridge. grandfather's blessing. the irish blessing. may the roads rise to meet you. may the winds be always at your back. may the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft up on your fields. and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
i watch the birds - there must be 20 at least - as they swoop back and forth under the bridge, skimming the water, diving with the strength of the wind. the trees have looked green all day.
quiet.
today i read a writing by Thich Nhat Hanh in which he wrote "all violence is injustice." I underlined it and wrote in the margin "all violence of the mind is injustice." all inner violence - is injustice. what does it matter if your actions portray peace, when your mind is guilty of minutes, hours, days, months, years, of hate and other violence? at the end of life, is it your actions that define you, or will it go further than that - to your thoughts?
it is slow.
subtle.
but it is good.
and i am mine.
after class i stand on the bridge. grandfather's bridge. grandfather's blessing. the irish blessing. may the roads rise to meet you. may the winds be always at your back. may the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft up on your fields. and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
i watch the birds - there must be 20 at least - as they swoop back and forth under the bridge, skimming the water, diving with the strength of the wind. the trees have looked green all day.
quiet.
today i read a writing by Thich Nhat Hanh in which he wrote "all violence is injustice." I underlined it and wrote in the margin "all violence of the mind is injustice." all inner violence - is injustice. what does it matter if your actions portray peace, when your mind is guilty of minutes, hours, days, months, years, of hate and other violence? at the end of life, is it your actions that define you, or will it go further than that - to your thoughts?
it is slow.
subtle.
but it is good.
and i am mine.