heartsteps

It’s up to us
to re-enchant this planet Earth

We are the elves and giants
we are the shining ones
daughters of the Moon and
sons of the Sun

We are the shapeshifters
we are the mysterious light
shrouded in mists at
the dawn of our time
it’s up to us to re-enchant
this living planet Earth

Up to us to midwife
at our own rebirth
up to us to send our dead
along their
ancient pathways to the future
up to us to re-enchant this
living planet Earth

It’s up to us to break the spell
that steals the colours
from the world
and leaves it lifeless
it was our spell
we can break it

It’s up to us to break the spell
that steals the music from
the Wind and the Rain
it is our spell
we can break it

We will dance the magic dance
and our bodies will remember
we will sing the magic songs
and together we’ll remember
how to live together
how to love each other
how to ride the eagle
how to call the deer
Home

Will Ashe Bacon

Luke 19:28-40, Matthew 21:1-11, Mark 11:1-11

Jesus tells us that even the stones
would cry out if we kept silent.
How do we,
now the stones’ vocal cords,
express our awe?

The weight of pink cherry blossoms
drooping against the blue sky,
and the return of the yellow and oranges faces
we call “daffodil” leave us speechless.
Even as the word leaves our lips,
it must be followed by a confession
that are naming of things
domesticates the wild mystery of life
and manages the “spell of the sensuous”,
which threatens to stop us in our tracks
and grind the industry of our “getting and spending”
to a blessed halt.

We consent to this Sabbath from certainty,
Holy One,
so that we might be re-initiated into the mystery
of life on this planet,
this blue jewel came to life–
Love’s project–
and came to consciousness in us
so that we might break the stony silence
with praise for you,
whom we’ve learned never to bet against.
Amen.

Bruce Sanguin

The greatest good is like water:
it benefits all life without being noticed.
It flows even to the lowliest places
where no one chooses to be
and so it is very close to the Tao.
It settles only in quiet locations.
Its deepest heart is always clear.
It offers itself with great goodness.
It keeps its rhythm as it keeps its promises.
It governs tributaries as it governs its people.
It adapts to all necessities.
It moves at the right moment.
It never flaunts its goodness
and so it never attracts any blame.

Tao Te Ching: Chapter 8

For God to me,
it seems, is a verb,
not a noun, proper or improper;
is the articulation not the art,
objective or subjective;
is loving, not the abstraction “love”
commanded or entreated;
is knowledge dynamic,
not legislative code,
not proclamation law,
not academic dogma,
nor ecclesiastic canon.
Yes, God is a verb, the most active,
connoting the vast harmonic reordering,
of the universe,
from unleashed chaos of energy.
And there is born unheralded
a great natural peace,
not out of exclusive pseudo-static security,
but out of including, refining,
dynamic balancing.
Naught is loss.
Only the false and nonexistent are dispelled.

Buckminster Fuller

Every blade of grass has its angel that bends
over it and whispers, “Grow, grow.”

The Talmud

That hurt we embrace becomes joy.
Call it to your arms where it can change.
A silkworm eating leaves makes a cocoon. Each of us weaves a chamber
of leaves and sticks.
Like silkworms, we begin to exist
as we disappear
inside that room.

Without legs, we fly.
When I stop speaking, this poem
will close in silence more magnificent…

I don’t regret how much I love,
and I avoid those who repent their passion.

Hundreds of sweethearts!
I am the lover and the one
lovers long for. Blue, and a cure
for blues, sky in a small cage,

badly hurt but flying.
Everybody’s scandalous flaw is mine.

Rumi

Beautiful are the youth
whose rich emotions flash and burn,
whose lithe bodies filled with energy and grace
sway in their happy dance of life;
and beautiful likewise are the mature
who have learned compassion and patience, charity and wisdom, though they
be rarer far than beautiful youth.
But most beautiful and most rare is a gracious old age
which has drawn from life the skill to take ts varied strands: the harsh advance of age, the pang of grief,
the passing of dear friends, the loss of strength,
and with fresh insight weave them
into a rich and gracious pattern all its own.
This is the greatest skill of all,
to take the bitter with the sweet and make it beautiful,
to take the whole of life in all its moods,
its strengths and weaknesses,
and of the whole make one great and celestial harmony.

Robert Terry Weston

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world,
and am free.

Wendell Berry

God stood at the shore of Himself and dove in.
How can He do things like that?
Anything goes with
the Big Guy, I
guess.

A divine splash happened,
billions of drops were propelled into space.

I said to a drop shooting past me one night,
“Where ya going, what’s the hurry,
slow down.”

It did, and we talked for a while, that drop and I;
some angels too
came by.

There is more traffic than you think -
cruising.

Teresa of Avila

Last night my soul asked a question of existence.
Why are you upsidedown with flames in your belly?
Happy, unhappy, indigo-orange like the sky?

Why are you an off-balance wobbling millstone,
like the Buddhist Sufi, Ibrahim Balkhi,
who was king, beggar, buddha and dervish?

Existence answers, All this was made
by the one who hides inside you.

You are like a beautiful new bride,
quick to anger, stubborn,
hot, naked, but still veiled.

Rumi