Bile Ratha

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56074217787719729642012-02-18T23:22:49.716-05:00Bile RathaThe Celtic Tree of Lifenyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.comBlogger2271100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-29870879885354617442012-02-11T11:39:00.002-05:002012-02-15T18:40:32.054-05:00Times Past

My beautiful mother and handsome father on their honeymoon in front of the Gloucester Fisherman's Memorial in Massachusetts. My dad showing off for my mom on their honeymoon. I'll have to remember to ask her what kind of car that was....because it's AWESOME. Totally wish I had a car like that. EDIT: It's a 1940 Chevrolet. My great-grandparents, Cornelius and Flora. He was

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-12311553260600607962012-02-03T09:48:00.002-05:002012-02-03T09:51:48.076-05:00Reading Randall Jarrell

Last night laying in bed, I was reading The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell. Five lines - that's all it is. From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose. "From my

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-37669014620215870922012-01-31T22:10:00.000-05:002012-01-31T22:10:10.148-05:00Wonderments

I wonder if we've had such a warm winter because of the intense solar flares. I wonder how airplanes fly. I mean, I've read the science of it, but really...how do they fly? I wonder why the Earth has such a distinctive scent for each season. If I ever was in a coma and woke up from it and didn't know the date or the time or my name, I would know what season it was from the scent. I wonder why

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-62529569425844758802012-01-31T02:39:00.003-05:002012-01-31T08:16:34.952-05:00The Celtic Wheel of the Year

February 1 is the Gaelic festival of Imbolc, the approximate midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It's been celebrated in Gaelic tradition since at least the middle ages and most probably was rooted in traditions far more ancient. According to wikipedia: Imbolc is the day the Cailleach — the hag of Gaelic tradition — gathers her firewood for the rest of the winter. Legend

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-63538787400341798802012-01-22T10:09:00.004-05:002012-01-25T20:06:12.874-05:00Sunday Morning

Snow outside, fireplace going inside, dog at my feet, drinking hot tea, listening to Handel's Eternal Source of Light Divine, and playing with my poetry. It reminds me of that scene in The Last Samurai where the Japanese guy is dying honorably on the field of battle. He sees cherry tree petals floating like cleansing rain across the destruction and all he says is, "Perfect." This morning is a

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-1112551609966702602012-01-18T19:20:00.011-05:002012-01-20T13:35:26.873-05:00Revisited

I will cut my body into emerald pieces and lay them on bare rock to bloom my sea thought flows into your darkening soi/u/l and You of the loam, the earth will give root to the foam of my dreams

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-25278796479601453462012-01-10T20:52:00.008-05:002012-01-15T18:48:38.502-05:00Empath

write me a poem of love across your indigo heart (it's dark) and I'll sing your name to the twilight skies in immutable blue. your breath in my mouth, on my skin leaves the scent by which you hunt me, though the trail is scattered across midnight in stardust and blood. wild beast of the forest, you watch the changing moon with unchanging eyes. you're entwined with the light without knowing

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-73728975604389878822012-01-04T20:05:00.001-05:002012-01-04T20:09:21.086-05:00I hate you Pablo Neruda. I Hate You. Try Three

Because trying to match you is torture and because there's only one, and that's you. No one can match your sensuality and your passion. I hate you. Also, fate, because of the words. Still, I guess it's interesting, but only to me, to watch evolution of the process. Write me a poem of love across your indigo heart (it's dark) and I'll sing your name to the twilight skies in immutable blue.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-66444604073933774122012-01-03T20:52:00.012-05:002012-01-04T15:49:43.086-05:00Still no name, try two

write me a poem of love across your indigo heart (it's dark) and I'll sing your name to the twilight skies in immutable blue. your breath in my mouth, on my skin leaves the scent by which you hunt me, though the trail is scattered across the sky in stardust and blood. yet still, we move among the flickering stars. we move. And in moving and breathing and loving, we are consumed.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-86001292542417632362011-12-31T02:23:00.000-05:002011-12-31T02:23:13.191-05:00More on Meditation

I'm still totally crap at meditation, but I know that it's just one of those things you could spend a lifetime practicing and still feel like a neophyte at the end of it all. Meditation does not have to be religious or even particularly spiritual. Everyone, no matter what their ideology, can benefit from experiencing(as Buddha put it) the unity of life by seeing his own Self in all beings, and

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-3277165404365302372011-12-04T08:57:00.000-05:002011-12-04T08:57:43.805-05:00Chasing Gratitude

It's pretty easy to feel grateful when I get to watch the sun rise over the ocean and drink a cup of green tea with honey while reading about Jungian archetypes. SCORE!!!!!!!

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-91436623714172268392011-12-02T09:50:00.003-05:002011-12-02T10:18:08.583-05:00Dream Symbolism

I woke at dawn from a dream that was interesting because the symbolism was so incredibly entwined and interconnected. I was going to the World's Fair or something like that. Everyone had to enter through a huge, wide stairway. The stairway was built like an arch so it was impossible to see what was on the other side. I stood at the foot of it with some other people, but I remember being alone

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-87490806081626782572011-11-26T19:34:00.000-05:002011-11-26T19:34:27.064-05:00I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair

I love Neruda's passion. If only ever I could write even one like him. Just one. I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-70969881675413410572011-11-15T09:40:00.001-05:002011-11-15T09:49:47.957-05:00Gratitude

I think that gratitude is mostly self-taught and only comes by making an effort to deliberately recognize those things we do have, instead of despairing about the things we don't. I'm grateful that I'm still able to sit outside and work from my porch as late as November 15th! Good morning, Yggdrasil! I wish I had a better camera so that I could take a picture that would do this Sugar Maple

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-87826846360700354432011-11-08T03:22:00.000-05:002011-11-08T03:22:30.005-05:00

Moonlight is falling across my cozy bed. I can't sleep when it lays on the pillow where I'm resting my head. I feel like it wants to tell me something, a secret maybe, only I can't quite hear. Oh moon. I'll whisper in the dark to you all of my fears.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-92027909374119507072011-11-04T03:02:00.000-04:002011-11-04T03:02:20.148-04:00Sleeping in the Forest by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed, nothing between me and the white fire of the stars but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths among the branches of the perfect trees. All night I heard the small kingdoms breathing around me, the insects, and

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-68267250061462041842011-11-02T10:53:00.000-04:002011-11-02T10:53:11.142-04:00Dream Fragment

I dreamt last night that I was shown the ruins of a castle. Some voice said that it was from medieval Poland and that it was an important pivotal point or something like that. I don't know anything about Polish history though and it doesn't have any meaning to me. There was more to the dream, but I can't remember it. But whatever, I'm recording it anyway. Why can't I ever dream stuff like having

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-24633325432750816492011-10-23T19:54:00.004-04:002011-10-23T20:17:47.859-04:00haven't named it yet, probably won't, first pass

was reading neruda and grilling bbq chicken wings on the porch and having a glass of pinot noir got all inspired write me a poem of love across your indigo heart (it's dark) and I'll sing your name to the twilight skies in immutable blue we move among the flickering stars we move only you and I know the love songs of the cosmos only you and I swim through the ocean of stars and

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-14082977098233290852011-10-12T11:06:00.000-04:002011-10-12T11:06:12.616-04:00The Winter of Listening by David Whyte

No one but me by the fire, my hands burning red in the palms while the night wind carries everything away outside. All this petty worry while the great cloak of the sky grows dark and intense round every living thing. What is precious inside us does not care to be known by the mind in ways that diminish its presence. What we strive for in perfection is not what turns us into the lit angel we

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-82635861740694223182011-10-04T14:39:00.001-04:002011-10-06T09:49:01.125-04:00Meditation/Prayer and Brain Structure

Intent thought, prayer, and/or meditation can cause actual structural changes in both the amygdala and hippocampus. EDIT: Also, I forgot to add this study, which is super interesting and concerns the ability of the mind to influence the external environment. According to this study from the Harvard Gazette: The analysis of MR images, which focused on areas where meditation-associated

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-7535582451596894392011-09-30T02:33:00.002-04:002011-09-30T07:28:36.698-04:00Learning to Meditate is Hard!

I'm trying to spend some time each day meditating. I think it's important to learn the self-discipline to quiet your mind. It's so much harder than I thought it would be though! In theory, it seems fairly simple - I start my meditation music - usually Deuter's Nada Himalaya. It's an awesome piece that uses only Tibetan bells, singing bowls, chimes, and the sound of a stream. I lie down with my

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-44837777567517219912011-09-26T20:27:00.001-04:002011-09-26T20:36:03.359-04:00Diving Down Into Unknown Realms

is the art of learning to become reckless. When there's much at stake, it's no good holding back and trying to be safe; sometimes, you just have to jump. I think that's the next lesson for me to learn. I made a visioning board this weekend, for clarity. I bought a big piece of posterboard and I wrote out specific goals that I wanted to achieve in my life. And, like a kindergartner, I cut out

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-19710525768763126572011-09-22T03:48:00.002-04:002011-09-22T03:52:41.596-04:00Autumnal Equinox - Friday, September 23

Earth is in the part of its orbit where it's not tilted toward or away from the Sun, but stands straight up on its axis. Saturn is fading from the sky, but Jupiter is out all night. On the morning of September 23, Mars will be just above and to the left of a waning crescent moon. In the Celtic calendar, Alban Elued (Light of the Water) was observed at the autumn equinox and was believed to be a

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-88161443701733329502011-09-11T20:44:00.000-04:002011-09-11T20:44:38.897-04:00Harvest Moon Tonight

I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon.- Muhammad Iqbal

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-88523427082469146322011-09-07T15:07:00.002-04:002011-09-17T09:58:48.280-04:00Keeping up with my dream logging

I dreamt last night that I was at the ocean and the place I was staying had a tiny beach in the back, kind of enclosed or something. But on the other side, the ocean was vast and that's where I went swimming instead of the other place. I only remember that the sand was white and the sky was very blue and I walked for a while and saw some birds, maybe eagles. Then, I left the beach and I was

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-68833763536891021102011-09-06T12:13:00.004-04:002011-09-06T16:30:35.539-04:00Maslow and Jung and finding what I need to find, when I need to find it

I had a little moment of synchronicity when someone sent me a link to an essay on Maslow's idea of self-actualization. I love when I find that a conclusion I've arrived at in isolation has already been explored and even named. For me, it validates the searching, and tells me that I'm on the right path. It's like when I was having a discussion with someone, and asked what he thought of

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-49968025105082855442011-08-23T04:18:00.002-04:002011-08-23T07:52:24.107-04:00Poetry - just a big old metaphor for life

Some guy (he was a famous poet, I just can't remember which one) said that a poem is a work re-crafted over and over and that a poet could spend years writing one. But to me, a poem usually lives intensely in a particular moment. The words are like a flood, they just come gushing out because there's no other choice. I always think I'm going to go back and "fix" it, but when I try to, the words

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-41033404488951449952011-08-22T21:12:00.007-04:002011-08-26T09:20:29.261-04:00creation (try two)

(the mating of nyx and erebus)chaos born,but in the space betweenlight and dark you areShadow.You within methe deep of my dreamshave seeded the cosmosand I will bear you the stars

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-68759433687886840512011-08-22T15:14:00.012-04:002011-08-22T19:10:54.351-04:00creation

(the mating of nyx and erebus) chaos born but in the space between light and dark you are Shadow and you within me have seeded the cosmos and I will bear you the stars

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-7720966394405901962011-08-21T08:31:00.003-04:002011-08-21T08:41:22.529-04:00Little Cinder

Girl, they can't understand you. You rise from the ash-heap in a blaze and only then do they recognize you as their one true love. While you pray beneath your mother's tree you carve a phoenix into your palm with a hazel twig and coal; every night she devours more of you. You used to believe in angels. Now you believe in the makeover; if you can't get the grime off your face and your

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-64778203506442666972011-08-17T00:16:00.000-04:002011-08-17T00:16:48.323-04:00time speeds up

but my heart stands still

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-87030225542772397642011-08-14T09:59:00.004-04:002011-08-16T09:43:38.835-04:00Dreams

I seriously need to write a book.... There was a girl in Egypt many long years ago - like 3,000 years maybe - long before the rise of Christianity. She had been stolen from her family and made a slave. She lived in the palace of pharaoh and was part of a cohort of handmaidens to the royal family there. It was a hugely rich kingdom and there were many, many slaves. Only the most comely were

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-51395847307715270372011-08-12T19:47:00.000-04:002011-08-12T19:47:12.766-04:00Sufi Poetry

So seldom well translated, but this is nice. The Beauty of the Heart If anyone asks you how the perfect satisfaction of all our sexual wanting will look, lift your face and say, Like this. When someone mentions the gracefulness of the night sky, climb up on the roof and dance and say, Like this. When someone wants to know what "spirit" is, or what "God’s fragrance" means, lean your head

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-66544397453627042452011-08-12T10:10:00.000-04:002011-08-12T10:10:04.056-04:00The Perseids

Prime viewing time begins when the constellation Perseus rises into view in the northeast around midnight on Friday, August 12. The full moon will rise in early evening Friday coinciding exactly with the predicted time of the shower’s peak intensity. The Moon’s light will overpower most of the meteors. It doesn't matter though, just laying on your back in the cool grass watching the stars wheel

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-63854130562597705662011-08-10T15:28:00.000-04:002011-08-10T15:28:29.034-04:00Happy Birthday

I miss you.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-59799009017256600892011-08-04T20:29:00.000-04:002011-08-04T20:29:51.248-04:00The Handkerchief

I found this handkerchief years ago in an antique shop. It was collecting dust on a shelf in a lonely corner, forgotten in time. It has the words "Frae Scotland" embroidered on it - "From Scotland," and tiny white flowers growing from multiple stems. I'm not sure what the flower is. I want to say Scottish Broom, but I really don't know.And on a little hand-written note, in a fragile, but still

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-20999333134956495792011-08-01T21:27:00.002-04:002011-08-01T21:38:32.792-04:00Me making poems the way they should have been written - sorry, ee cummings and conrad aiken and whomever else I've screwed over with my own renditions of your (almost) lovely words

Is that even legal? Oh yeah, that's right. I don't give a shite. Trees are their roots and wind is wind and if the seas catch fire then live by love though the stars walk backward honour the past but welcome the future (and dance your death away at the wedding) never mind a world with its villains or heroes beyond sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears yours is the light by which my

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-72663369164904977172011-07-27T21:00:00.001-04:002011-07-27T21:11:57.434-04:00East and West

I've been so attracted to Eastern thought lately. I think it's less judgmental than most Western forms of spirituality. Eastern thought tends to be inclusive allowing for a range of personal ideologies, and Western thought tends to be exclusive shunning that which does not conform to a set standard - aka groupthink. God or Allah or Buddha or Yahweh or Nature or the Force or whatever you choose

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-20296352103355727142011-07-22T10:36:00.002-04:002011-07-22T17:21:39.694-04:00The Magnificent Space Shuttle

Atlantis returned to Earth this morning on the final mission of the space shuttle program. It saddens me a little because I think man needs the perspective of seeing this beautiful blue orb we inhabit in its rightful place among the stars. We need to be reminded of the delicate fragility of the Earth as well as the astonishing resourcefulness of humankind. I read an article that stated, "Many

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-57722218264113872062011-07-21T00:22:00.001-04:002011-07-21T17:50:53.392-04:00Celtic Women

I've been doing research for some writing and the more I read about the ancient Celts in history and myth, the more I've come to admire them as a culture. In a time when women were mostly treated like chattel, the Celts treated the sexes as equals. Celtic women were free to bear arms, become Druids, engage in politics, govern, and own property. They could be warriors, physicians, judges and

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-30382159715770787652011-07-13T18:32:00.000-04:002011-07-13T18:32:49.539-04:00Here is the Ocean

here is the ocean, this is moonlight: say that both precisely beyond either were— so in darkness ourselves go, mind in mind which is the thrilling least of all (for love’s secret supremely clothes herself with day) i mean, should any curious dawn discuss our mingling spirits, you would disappear unreally; as this planet (understand) forgets the entire and perpetual sea —but if yourself

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-28065056382889294322011-07-11T13:27:00.003-04:002011-07-11T13:58:28.262-04:00Subconscious and Dreams

Sometimes dreams are very convoluted and take all kinds of twists and turns, but sometimes they're pretty straightforward and it's clear that your subconscious is telling you exactly what you need to know. I just had a dream like that. I dreamt I was in a boat and when I'd set off, the weather was clear, but a mist rolled in as I went further away from shore. The mist hid everything like a damp

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-16934198215575476302011-07-10T21:59:00.000-04:002011-07-10T21:59:06.090-04:00Sea Thought

in the silence between day and night between hope and dreaming, water is carved deep ~jude If there is any life when death is over, I shall come back, as constant and as changeful As the unchanging, many-colored sea. ~Teasdale

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-46467052782149491342011-07-07T23:18:00.005-04:002011-12-25T08:00:39.440-05:00Akhilandeshvari - Never Not Broken

Akhilandeshvari, a Hindu goddess representing the concept of "never not broken," embodies a different perspective of the hero's journey where typically the goal is to achieve the destination and the desired state is wholeness or completion. In the "never not broken" version, the goal is the journey and the desired state is flux.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-10415061922689059082011-06-29T19:27:00.001-04:002011-06-30T08:17:06.414-04:00Lessons about Love from Children

Children four through eight, answer the question: "What is love"? "Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.” Bobby–age 7 Live mindfully! (And I think Bobby is a little buddha.) “Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.” Danny – age 7 Serve those we love with

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-16426298336527553242011-06-28T21:52:00.000-04:002011-06-28T21:52:53.167-04:00

Yesterday, just in the nick of time, I rescued a frantic firefly caught in a web when the spider was only centimeters away. Today, a beautiful little moth dove repeatedly toward a flickering candle flame, and I watched it burn. Art by Barbara Brashier

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-47080719839040084452011-06-22T00:29:00.000-04:002011-06-22T00:29:47.606-04:00Solstice Offering

Bonefire burns on a distant hill messenger to the Otherworld. White-hot light leaps to studded sky; ancient mating between heaven and earth. Flames roar and sparks dance, consumed by the passion of voracious dark. Unlike Persephone, they fly upward to their doom. The Pleiades scatter their hazy blue across midnight skies as spiral galaxies hurtle away to worlds unknown in fractured time. I

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-73911784274309081272011-06-20T02:06:00.000-04:002011-06-20T02:06:56.592-04:00Been trying to find meditation music

for two hours to help me sleep and it's not working, so screw it.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-87711749369408566722011-06-14T22:59:00.002-04:002011-07-23T07:47:42.619-04:00Moon Magic

The moon is so beautiful tonight. How can anything be so beautiful? It sings a love song to the Earth in a luminous language. Shhh, come now moon, and whisper to me of your ancient mysteries. I'll keep them safe for you, here, in the secret chambers of my heart.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-1081385899677170212011-06-10T22:55:00.001-04:002011-07-23T07:50:44.566-04:00Supplication

I send greetings to the All-Father and ask him to look with generosity upon my small offerings of body, heart, and soul and I ask in return the boons of earth and air for my body, blood to pump strongly through my heart, and the freedom to sing my soul on the long journey until it rests in the mighty halls of Valhalla until the end of time. Amen.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-37739509623109166662011-06-09T13:44:00.001-04:002011-06-25T10:36:33.829-04:00Awesome Person of the Day Award

Today, the Awesome Person of the Day Award goes to a co-worker who is always generous with his time, cheerful in an unremittingly stressful environment, and quick to smile. I've never seen or heard him be unkind to anyone; everything that comes out of his mouth is love. I feel privileged to know him and even though I've told him he's awesome already, I think it's important to acknowledge when

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-57335415107894930912011-06-05T19:02:00.007-04:002011-06-05T23:52:38.543-04:00Freedom

The winter dawn was freezing, and the open gates of the cavernous garage must have seemed a haven to the small bird. Even in the cold darkness, heat rose from the steeply graded entrance, which wound round and down, deeper and deeper seven stories below the hope of sunlight and fresh air. It was like a thousand other garages in the heart of any city, nondescript. One only remembered it for the

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-16989370499394157202011-06-04T16:46:00.002-04:002011-06-04T16:53:12.694-04:00DNA and Memory

Can memory be encoded into DNA and passed along? I think it's nuts that most molecular biologists believe that over 98% of human DNA is "junk." That doesn't even make sense. Just because scientists have only discovered the basic DNA codes for 2% of the simplest processes doesn't mean that the other bits can't have some amazing application to higher, more complex functions at which we can only

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-68063055541469581722011-05-24T23:02:00.001-04:002011-05-28T12:51:19.647-04:00Transmuted

The Tree of Life is ever present, ever hidden. It grows here, inside. ~Body Art by Craig Tracy

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-34886134095658743412011-05-10T19:40:00.004-04:002011-07-08T10:32:18.681-04:00Words are useless

They're so limiting. There's no way that anyone can express how beautiful the feeling is of a spring evening, while the sun westers in dappled patterns through the trees and the sweet scent of pyracantha mixes with the spice of pines and the quiet air breeds serenity in communion with the calling of the nesting birds. How beautiful is the world! Motes of dust play in the last rays of the sun

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-89113303701782311792011-05-06T20:18:00.002-04:002011-05-07T09:16:27.309-04:00It feels cold here

a storm comes and the winds blows but lightning never strikes and thunder drowns my song sung to the sea and I do not know love. ~picture by tamara leigh jarvis

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-37055674107960772292011-04-27T21:57:00.002-04:002011-04-27T22:25:21.055-04:00For M.S.

Luminous mind, bright devil of absolute clusterings, of upright noon---: here we are at last, alone, without loneliness, far from the savage city's delirium. Just as a pure line describes the dove's curve, as the fire honors and nourishes peace, so you and I made this heavenly outcome. The mind and love live naked in this house. Furious dreams, rivers of bitter certainty, decisions harder than

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-11257780415582047502011-04-26T22:47:00.000-04:002011-04-26T22:47:53.300-04:00To pablo

I will cut my body into emerald pieces and lay them on bare rock to bloom. The fragrance of my sea thought rises to your darkening soi/u/l and You of the loam, the Earth will give root to the foam of my dreams.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-56000491710958727312011-04-20T19:50:00.001-04:002011-04-21T05:55:07.267-04:00Last Night I Dreamt

I burned. Someone else was going to light the bone fire, but I took on the task knowing they would be safe, knowing I would burn. I knew I would be able to extinguish the flames and rise from the ashes, and I did. "The psychologist Carl Jung said that fire represents the process of psychological transformation. Just as the alchemists used fire to transform base metals into gold, so the symbol

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-57504789014088655422011-04-17T23:13:00.037-04:002011-04-19T14:41:40.633-04:00Excommunication

Ring the bell to begin the incantation. Silence, broken by silver. Pealing forth it calls out to each of us by name. It rings once. Close the book to cast the spirit in the role we claim. Heaven or hell. We choose always and never, once and the same I am for me, for that I came. It rings twice. Quench the candle as our being burns with the way of ourselves we sing the path by the toll our

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-24649367276202375742011-04-09T17:49:00.000-04:002011-04-09T17:49:55.558-04:00Awesome Person of the Day Award

The awesome person of today is a male with curly, sandy brown hair and big blue eyes and no more than two-years old. I was at the gym on a treadmill in front of the windows, running and daydreaming and cranking up my music, when this tiny little creature comes walking by with his mom. He was peering into the windows of the gym and taking his time thoroughly assimilating what each person was

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-47978105827523674702011-04-06T21:08:00.001-04:002011-04-07T02:33:31.022-04:00House of Dust

And all the dreams that hurried along her veins Came to the darkness of a sudden wall. Confusion ran among them, they whirled and clamored, They fell, they rose, they struck, they shouted, Till at last a pallor of silence hushed them all. What was her name? Where had she walked that morning? Through what dark forest came her feet? Along what sunlit walls, what peopled street? Backward he

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-68407010408754478222011-03-27T22:44:00.004-04:002011-03-28T07:47:28.205-04:00A Dream Last Night I Had (In a Poem of a Sort)

I dreamt last night of Cŵn Annwn - the hounds of Annwn - three tall black hounds, three lean black hounds, and they followed me from the sea. They were on the hunt. I was afloat and saw their three black backs, their lean black backs, and I turned to land and swam. They were hunting for me. They gave chase. I ran. I don't want to live forever, but still I turned and fought. Without a sound, we

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-92096412061813105492011-03-25T19:05:00.000-04:002011-03-25T19:05:56.702-04:00One of my favorite stories from T.H.White's Once and Future King

When God had manufactured all the eggs out of which the fishes and the serpents and the birds and the mammals and even the duck-billed platypus would eventually emerge, He called the embryos before him, and saw that they were good. Perhaps I ought to explain,' added the badger, lowering his papers nervously and looking at Wart over the top of them, 'that all embryos look very much the same.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-68658424631599070372011-03-20T03:04:00.010-04:002011-03-20T19:34:27.917-04:00From "The Last Skald"

In case I am on the long journey thank you, The Powers, who graciously watched over that his soul might see the day after which I longed! I know what I am. It seems to me I see them, the gray shadows, of those who still stand tall among the noisy guests. I long for you, And the rapture of my soul, the red glow of ancient memories. Song power took hold of his soul and gave him power to

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-60533022599252308552011-03-17T22:13:00.000-04:002011-03-17T22:13:07.147-04:00More Awesome People of the Day!

It's St. Patrick's Day and I was eating dinner at an outdoor restaurant in the capital. There were so many people out on the busy streets enjoying the gorgeous evening - business people, tourists, local inhabitants. It's a city where people of all continents and cultures coalesce in a microcosm of the world, but the awesome thing was how many people of other cultures were wearing the green! I

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-10914491441737325302011-03-15T08:27:00.001-04:002011-03-15T08:46:09.614-04:00Awesome People of the Day

Today, it's the fifty workers who have stayed behind at the Fukushima nuclear plant in Japan. They're battling further breach to the nuclear reactors, full knowing that it will most likely cost their lives in one way or another. Their families must be in agony.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-81332445170517463192011-03-12T13:52:00.001-05:002011-03-12T19:12:59.172-05:00Awesome Person of the Day Award

Today when I was at the gym, someone got on the treadmill next to me. I didn't pay much attention until I started seeing her arms waving around a few minutes later. When I glanced over, it was a plump black girl and she was listening to her ipod and conducting music. She'd stop conducting for a few minutes, but then, I guess when it got to a really good part she'd start conducting again, all the

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-57971757107149455512011-03-11T12:17:00.000-05:002011-03-11T12:17:45.260-05:00Karma

I've been thinking about its attributes lately and, regardless of whether you believe in karma in the Eastern sense, I think the idea retains merit. Living your life as though everything you think, say, and do, creates or erases balance can only result in the greater good both on a personal level and for our fellow travelers in space and time. I woke up from a dream last night, which I can't

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-42664509408817025932011-02-28T19:54:00.001-05:002011-02-28T19:57:43.628-05:00Wow, the tree frogs are super early this year!!

Looking back at the other two springs I've been keeping this blog, it's a full two weeks early for them to be singing! I love hearing them. To me, even more than the snowdrops and tulips pushing their heads through the dirt, the tree frogs spell the changing of the seasons. I just seriously heart me some tree frog singing. They are kind of silly looking though (in an endearing way) with their

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-88319250691242772862011-02-23T18:33:00.000-05:002011-02-23T18:33:11.558-05:00Shedding Your Skin

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted,

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-90839333346767947432011-02-21T22:20:00.005-05:002011-02-22T02:06:15.603-05:00Hell, YES!!!

I can drive like Mario Effing Andretti!!! I just got in from a late dinner and it's sleeting like crazy and the road was a sheet of ice and I totally battled the elements and WON. Kind of feel like going back out in it again. RAWWWWWWWWRRRRRRR

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-31005067261285893442011-02-21T13:52:00.013-05:002011-02-21T15:55:43.524-05:00Book Binder

I've been trying to lighten my accumulated house baggage for the last few years, but some things are harder to let go of than others. One of the hardest things has been going through the 12 x 6 built-in bookshelf. There was not even room left for a new paperback. I guess it's a lesson in learning to keep only that which is truly worthwhile and letting go of the rest. Now there's space for

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-24296225481179964722011-02-15T23:27:00.003-05:002011-02-16T04:16:18.826-05:00There's a hoot owl calling outside my bedroom window

It sounds like this.http://www.owlpages.com/sounds/Strix-varia-1.mp3 WHAT OWLS SYMBOLIZE:The owl is sacred to the Greek goddess of learning, Athena, and is even depicted on some Greco-Roman currency as a symbol of status, intelligence, and of course, wealth. In ancient Egyptian, Celtic, and Hindu cultures the symbolic meaning of owl revolved around guardianship of the underworld, and a protection

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-85278128557124937942011-02-14T04:21:00.000-05:002011-02-14T04:21:25.701-05:00Robins!

Today I saw the first robins of the year. Some of them were mucking about in puddles left from the melting snow and a couple were having a peck at the apples I'd left out for the deer. It made me happy. Spring always comes again.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-30082313042493282322011-02-07T19:47:00.022-05:002011-02-09T11:51:58.963-05:00Yggdrasil

hanging on the wind-tossed Tree nine nights so cold. knowledge bought from spear piercing flesh and bone and soul. the ordeal. sacrifice of myself to myself forYggdrasil's roots and runes foretold. nine nights hanging three by three the void, the otherworld, the sacred now I AM free. I AM free. I AM free

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-79390409486066988102011-01-27T00:02:00.017-05:002011-02-20T11:43:06.744-05:00Resurrection

Grasping the smooth wooden handle of the sword, Annstás held it high, examining the iron blade. They were coming soon. The smoke from the signal fires had given fair warning. Steady hands worked the strop along the already sharp edge and heart beat time to the waves pounding against the implacable cliffs. Annstás felt the warmth of the spring air and caught the scent of sea-lavender on the slight

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-29342141279590568632011-01-21T22:01:00.007-05:002011-01-22T12:42:34.748-05:00Oh humanity, I love you

and I'm finding my love in my favorite Joseph Campbell quotes, and there are a lot of them. The hero's journey, which Campbell is so famous for espousing, just speaks deeply to me. Where at one time I may have thought of most of my fellow humans as flawed beings possibly unworthy of love, I now see that their flaws are the very thing which make them heroic and therefore intensely lovable. Who

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-78436780342018699152011-01-11T00:53:00.017-05:002011-01-11T20:52:48.667-05:00Hey, Pablo!

How the heck do you make even dead fish sound sexy?? God I love you for that. I would give almost anything to express myself like you do. All the words that remain pent up in me, come pouring out of you so easily like a swift ecstasy. I love you for reminding me that humanity is beautiful on the inside mostly and capable of expressing that inner beauty in word and thought for even so humble a

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-28825871371219045992011-01-05T05:48:00.006-05:002011-01-05T13:02:15.779-05:00Intense Dream

I dreamt of a child of ten or twelve in Polynesia or Hawaii or somewhere like that a long, long time ago. I dreamt she was part of a tribe of natives living on one of a series of islands and that her father was the ruler of that particular tribe, but that there were other tribes nearby. She was with a boy about her age and I knew they were best friends and inseparable. They both had dark hair

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-14417494452489612102010-12-28T11:51:00.013-05:002010-12-28T15:00:06.089-05:00Thank you too for WD-40, duct tape, and dental floss!!!

...cause without them, my house would have fallen down a long time ago. The old locks on both the front and back doors have been sticking shut and it's a struggle to open them. Maybe that's a metaphor for something, but then, maybe not. While WD-40 is like magic, I've also discovered that Pam olive oil in a spray can is pretty awesome. Good thing I'm good at improvising!! Those locks are all

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-19410189978095268402010-12-24T13:12:00.000-05:002010-12-24T13:12:00.381-05:00Gratitude thought for the day

I love this: He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has. ~Epictetus

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-40213815094499102692010-12-21T02:44:00.001-05:002010-12-22T08:30:05.688-05:00red moon

It's easy enough to feel the ancient pull of the ancestor's moon love on a night like this. I'm glad I got up and went out, even though it's freezing. The moon is red except the crescent of silver still showing, and tonight the stars are not so far away after all.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-40723409232296701172010-12-20T19:47:00.001-05:002010-12-20T19:49:06.409-05:00Portents and Omens

Tonight, great things will happen in the sky. Perhaps the beginning of all things coinciding with the end of them. After midnight, a heavenly intersection of events - the first total lunar eclipse occurring in conjunction with the Winter Solstice since 1638, and only the second such occurrence since the time of Anno Domini. As human beings, we are made of stardust and it's hard not to dream of

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-85572467381963409902010-12-14T18:50:00.007-05:002010-12-15T11:33:55.486-05:00Christmas on the Hill

I was re-reading A Christmas Carol the other night. It's fairly simply written (kind of unusual for Dickens!), but so moving. I always get chills at certain bits because of its truths so powerfully expressed. The ghost of Jacob Marley sums up for Scrooge the purpose of Everyman. It is required of every man,' the Ghost returned, 'that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-77285367008489895642010-12-08T19:30:00.002-05:002010-12-08T22:58:55.761-05:00Divine Confluences!

Oh, the sky on a cold December night! I'm so glad I decided to go out on my front porch (shivering) a little while ago to re-connect with the universe after a long day at work. Between the tangled, bare branches of the two huge cottonwoods, Jupiter in the south is shining with serene, transcendent beauty. I thought my heart might break from it. All is right with the world. How could it not be,

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-91386867642797203242010-12-06T18:44:00.001-05:002010-12-22T08:46:46.492-05:00infinity and the windy cliffs of forever

I learned not to fear infinity The far field, the windy cliffs of forever The dying of time in the white light of tomorrow The wheel turning away from itself The sprawl of the wave The on-coming water I have come to a still A point outside the glittering current My mind moves in more than one place In a country half-land, half-water I am renewed by death, thought of my death The dry scent of

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-53965828731203000502010-11-28T05:22:00.000-05:002010-11-28T05:22:35.302-05:00i wonder

if burning bridges is just a pretty way to mean self destruction. i wonder too, if instead, maybe it's actually an involuted way of self preservation. choosing to burn a bridge is better than having it burnt for you.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-17329747849705050672010-11-26T11:38:00.001-05:002010-11-26T11:40:52.591-05:00Still the best workout song EVER

If this doesn't make you feel like you can't f**k over anything that tries to stop you from achieving your goals, nothing will. Blow Me Away - Breaking Benjamin They fall in line One at a time Ready to play I can't see them anyway No time to lose We've got to move Steady your hand I am losing sight again Fire your gun, It's time to run, Blow me away. I will stay, in the mess I made After

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-53504627209665326442010-11-19T11:07:00.000-05:002010-11-19T11:07:28.939-05:00Oh, the places you'll go!

Congratulations! Today is your day. You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go. You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.”

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-10761945885453431082010-11-12T12:41:00.000-05:002010-11-12T12:41:31.712-05:00From where I am, I can hear your dreams

I was talking to someone about the possibilities of things like karma and past lives and ancestral memory. To some extent, I feel an ambivalence because I have a hard time reconciling the part of my brain that says from a place of rationality, "how can this be." The part of my brain that is more primal, however, just knows certain truths at a deeper level. So an inner struggle ensues regarding

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-79955973488122180672010-11-10T22:00:00.000-05:002010-11-10T22:00:06.549-05:00Love Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topazor the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-18272128590526667192010-11-08T22:27:00.000-05:002010-11-08T22:27:59.205-05:00Under the ruins of a walled city, I recognized the walls that I once made

And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge For I cannot fill the chasm And let me set the battlements on fire

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-87119979683230700592010-11-01T19:52:00.000-04:002010-11-01T19:52:32.932-04:00Gone Away

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long. ~e.e. cummings

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-73051880508767310522010-10-27T12:02:00.001-04:002010-10-27T12:03:53.001-04:00Today is a quintessential autumn day

I'm sitting at my desk trying to work and getting so easily distracted. There's a soft rain and the leaves are green and gold and red, and occasionally a breeze will blow them off the trees and they'll swirl around like little golden hurricanes. It's overcast and the sky is grey, but I love the rain when I'm at home. It makes me feel quiet and secret and safe, like a little creature snuggled

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-65154383657015373962010-10-25T22:02:00.000-04:002010-10-25T22:02:56.085-04:00Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks

All those men were there inside, when she came in totally naked. They had been drinking: they began to spit. Newly come from the river, she knew nothing. She was a mermaid who had lost her way. The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh. Obscenities drowned her golden breasts. Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears. Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes. They blackened her with

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-19977944916502286942010-10-15T20:40:00.000-04:002010-10-15T20:40:05.542-04:00Again and Again

Again and again, however we know the landscape of love and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,and the frighteningly silent abyssinto which the others fall:again and again the two of us walk out togetherunder the ancient trees,lie down again and again among the flowers,face to face with the sky. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke He just knew. Most don't.

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-92084815876946769192010-10-08T20:06:00.000-04:002010-10-08T20:06:54.174-04:00Intuition - ancestral memory or just "available" knowledge?

I've been thinking about intuition because I use it as a primary tool to make decisions, even often giving my gut feelings precedence over what some think of as logic. Intuition is an inner knowing, an ability to tune into knowledge in a nonrational, nonlinear way. Using it, I have always landed on my feet. Always. Lately, I've had to rely on it a lot and I feel safe doing so from long experience

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-50318143913322649122010-10-05T20:13:00.001-04:002010-10-06T02:26:16.613-04:00

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5607421778771972964.post-64030315207841845482010-10-02T22:03:00.000-04:002010-10-02T22:03:08.569-04:00Everything stays the same

My heart is like the autumn moonperfectly bright in the deep green poolnothing can compare with ityou tell me how it can be explained~Han-shan 730 - 850

nyxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03019202459500990172noreply@blogger.com0