posted October 04, 2006 12:24 AM              

I was thinking of children and innocence and how they are yet unconditioned.
What they are is pure; yet unadulterated by the life that will program their minds to believe otherwise. The other voices outside of them that tell them things are this way...or that they are this way.

As in the poem, nature also conditions,
lulling us gently into sleep-walking through the seasons...onwards and onwards we ease into them; half-reluctantly, because we flow into them with less and less wonder, as we flow into the routine of days.
Our senses numb, when we lose ourselves in the whirlwind of time. When we surrender our Selves to the world. (why witnessing sunrises and sunsets...or gazing at the stars is so imperative now and then to remind us of Awe and Cherish.)
And we begin to assume. Assumption is one of the greatest threats to innocence.
It kills natural possibilities. Other's assumptions of us can cripple our potential, especially, if we allow it.

But nature also is always planting seeds of awareness all around us. And if we glide into the cycles of seasons with awareness, we come to realize each moment decides our flight.

Innocence is so invincibly strong.
It is never weak.
All the forces that belong to this world will attempt to corrupt it. A lifetime of heartbreak, disappointments and hurt will test it. It takes the greatest strength of spirit to endure through the tides of this life, to feel through the misery of disillusion, the greatest confusion of unjust cruelty...and to believe and open our hearts once again.

Yet we do.

I believe this life, this gloriously beautiful ongoing potential of existance, is ongoing testiment that Gold stays.
For it's the heartbeat of the world...that gently cherished hope inside that may rebirth an opening (reTurning) in each new Season.

If only not to lose ourselves to the world and its ways...to focus our sight on the horizons just above it. We must make our way with our feet on the ground, yes, it's what we must do here...but also with our sights/senses open to the unknown that's just above our reach, that is
always within our reach. All that which transcends us, transforms us and returns us to our innocence (our Selves).

posted October 04, 2006 01:31 AM              

Silverstone

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

posted October 06, 2006 10:36 PM              

all in its right time.

Have you been out taking in the beautiful autumn colors?
(if you live where there are autumn colors, that is)

posted October 15, 2006 03:30 AM              

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted November 10, 2006 11:15 PM              

but most of all,i miss
the wind whispering women
i can hear she gives me strength
to return,too my resting home.

so peaceful lia and silver.

posted November 18, 2006 11:06 AM              

wind whispering women

what a beautiful vision,

RAINBOW WARRIOR

posted December 01, 2006 10:57 AM              

I stood on a hill
and cried
sighs
of wonder
to starry skies

and with a
feeling
of presence
I knew
I knew

that stars
sigh too.

posted December 02, 2006 02:38 AM              

Words of beauty and comfort are your words, Lia

I've been wanting to post more on this thread. You actually brought this up on a good time; there is so much going on in my life at the moment that this just brings comfort and beauty. It is interesting how you're getting to know me (if you haven't already known me). The other day you posted: “Silverstone,
ever feel that you have so much you wish to say, that you can't seem to begin and go mute? Your post here, your other post from Carlos on the preditor...yes, it's all very meaningful to me.”

Yes, there is so much I want to say on other threads… but I often refrain from doing so because I feel that we should only share so much… OK, Lia, yes, it is the Scorpio in me… and slap me if you want… I can’t help it. We take our secrets to the grave. Why? F*ck who knows why Scorpios do that hee he, I can’t believe I am telling you this. But I felt you sensed this already and I thought you should know. I don’t, however, regret posting my feelings on this thread, though. How can I? There is so much beauty here… I will be back… For now, this is for you…

(How are you doing?)

Fern Hill

by Dylan Thomas

Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the **** on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted December 02, 2006 03:33 AM              

I read it twice and it warmed my heart and comforted so gently...just the words I hoped for, but didn't know yet.
so beautiful, thank you.

Words of Beauty and Comfort~~they're your words too.

I did know...or at least I hoped.
Hoped it wasn't my crazy Neptunian wanderings again.

We should only share so much?

please write to me~~

posted December 02, 2006 03:39 AM              

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted December 02, 2006 03:56 AM              

Silverstone

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted December 02, 2006 10:03 AM              

No, I've never seen Stay.
Very intriguing. Will surely check it out,
thanks.

posted December 12, 2006 11:43 AM              

WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you
can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you
can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,.
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you
can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bobRound and round the oatmeal-chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you
can understand.

posted February 22, 2007 01:13 AM              

"I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes -- and the stars through his soul."

"Try as you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic of the human heart, love."

"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love."

"If we discovered that we only had five minutes left to say all that we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to stammer that they loved them."

"If you wish to be loved, show more of your faults than your virtues."

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted February 22, 2007 01:29 AM              

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted February 22, 2007 11:21 PM              

Buddha

As the Buddha was dying,
Ananda asked
who would be their teacher after death.
He replied to his disciple…

"Be lamps unto yourselves.
Be refuges unto yourselves.
Take yourself no external refuge.
Hold fast to the truth as a lamp.
Hold fast to the truth as a refuge.
Look not for a refuge in anyone besides yourselves.
And those, Ananda, who either now or after I am dead,
Shall be a lamp unto themselves,
Shall betake themselves as no external refuge,
But holding fast to the truth as their lamp,
Holding fast to the truth as their refuge,
Shall not look for refuge to anyone else besides themselves,
It is they who shall reach to the very topmost height;
But they must be anxious to learn."

Quoted in Joseph Goldstein, The Experience of Insight

We are what we think.
All that we are arises with our thoughts.
With our thoughts, we make our world.

Buddha
The Four Reliances

First, rely on the spirit and meaning of the teachings,
not on the words;

Second, rely on the teachings,
not on the personality of the teacher;

Third, rely on real wisdom,
not superficial interpretation;

And fourth, rely on the essence of your pure Wisdom Mind,
not on judgmental perceptions.

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted February 24, 2007 03:43 AM              

For Beauty~

For Wisdom~

For You ~

Samadhi

Vanished are the veils of light and shade,

Lifted the vapors of sorrow,

Sailed away the dawn of fleeting joy,

Gone the mirage of the senses.

Love, hate, health, disease, life and death –

Departed, these false shadows on the screen
of duality.

Waves of laughter, scyllas of sarcasm, whirlpools
of melancholy,

Melting in the vast sea of bliss.

Bestilled is the storm of maya

By the magic wand of intuition deep.

The universe, a forgotten dream, lurks
subconsciously,

Ready to invade my newly wakened memory divine.

I exist without the cosmic shadow,

But it could not live bereft of me;

As the sea exists without the waves,

But they breathe not without the sea.

Dreams, wakings, states of deep turiya sleep,

Present, past, future, no more for me,

But the ever-present, all-flowing, I, I everywhere.

Consciously enjoyable,

Beyond the imagination of all expectancy,

Is this, my samadhi state.

Planets, stars, stardust, earth,

Volcanic bursts of doomsday cataclysms,

Creation’s moulding furnace,

Glaciers of silent X-rays,

Burning floods of electrons,

Thoughts of all men, past, present, future,

Every blade of grass, myself and all,

Each particle of creation’s dust,

Anger, greed, good, bad, salvation, lust,

I swallowed up – transmuted them

Into one vast ocean of blood of my own one Being!

Smoldering joy, oft-puffed by unceasing meditation,

Which blinded my tearful eyes,

Burst into eternal flames of bliss,

And consumed my tears, my peace, my frame,
my all.

Thou art I, I am Thou,

Knowing, Knower, Known, as One!

One tranquilled, unbroken thrill of eternal, living, ever-new peace!

Not an unconscious state
Or mental chloroform without wilful return,

Samadhi but extends my realm of consciousness

Beyond the limits of my mortal frame

To the boundaries of eternity,

Where I, the Cosmic Sea,

Watch the little ego floating in Me.

Not a sparrow, nor a grain of sand, falls

without my sight

All space floats like an iceberg in my mental sea.

I am the Colossal Container of all things made!

By deeper, longer, continuous, thirsty,
guru – given meditation,

This celestial samadhi is attained.

All the mobile murmurs of atoms are heard;

The dark earth, mountains, seas are molten liquid!

This flowing sea changes into vapors of nebulae!

Aum blows o’er the vapors; they open their veils,

Revealing a sea of shining electrons,

Till, at the last sound of the cosmic drum,

Grosser light vanishes into eternal rays

Of all-pervading Cosmic Joy.

From Joy we come,

For Joy we live,

In the sacred Joy we melt.

I, the ocean of mind, drink all creation’s waves.

The four veils of solid, liquid, vapor, light,

Lift aright.

Myself, in everything,

Enters the Great Myself.

Gone forever,

The fitful, flickering shadows of a mortal memory.

Spotless is my mental sky,

Below, ahead, and high above.

Eternity and I, one united ray.

I, a tiny bubble of laughter,

Have become the Sea of Mirth Itself.

From: Songs of the Soul. By: Paramahansa Yogananda

posted March 01, 2007 02:40 AM              

Silver,
you are a good-hearted, honest, sensitive and courageous Spirit. I admire your spark.
And especially your sense of Honor.

When I think back to a time, where I truly needed someone's faith or gentle word,
you were there. I will always believe in you.

posted March 01, 2007 02:50 AM              

Waterfall

There was a private waterfall in the forest~
cool blues and serene greens
surging soft melodies of times unseen

how his heart was beckoned there
time and again
through the weary days
the world weighed down
his gentle-hearted spirit

Delicate water trickling,
gushing so naturally an
ancient rhythm of
holy anointment into his fevered brow

How I wished to bring
him waterfalls,
not mar the quiet of his soul
with picnic-wine event,
but for him,
for him,
that quiet
that eased away
all solitary pain
all the world’s miseries
that such a tender heart
would contain

Seasons awaited him there
how they would call for him
to return

speak unspoken syllables of prayer
to such a sacred source
hear nature’s giving sounds
and take in delicate,
breath-alighting beauties
that hide in timeless forests
away from the stealing world

I see him there often
or I picture him there, if only

I pray such a place exists
within him always
replenishing his weary heart
to the next.

posted March 11, 2007 06:54 PM              

For you and for the beauty of poetry!
~*~*~*~
The Two Trees
William Butler Yeats

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The holy tree is growing there
From joy the holy branches start
And all the trembling flowers they bear
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody
And made my lips and music wed
Murmuring a wizard song for thee
There the Loves a circle go
The flaming circle of our days
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart
Thine eyes grow full of tender care
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart

Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile
Lift up before to when they pass
Or only gaze a little while
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives
Roots half hidden under snows
Broken boughs and blackened leaves
For all thing turn to barenness
In the dim glass the demons hold
The glass of outer weariness
Made when God slept in times of old
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought
Flying, crying, to and fro
Cruel claw and hungry throat
Or else they stand and sniff the wind
And shake their ragged wings: alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind
Gaze no more in the bitter glass

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The holy tree is growing there
From joy and holy branches start
And all the trembling flowers they bear
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart
Thine eyes grow full of tender care
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
~*~*~*~

Here's another poem... I searched and searched and couldn't find it and finally I did. In class about 6 years ago this was shared...

Renew Me

Why am I such a dusty window
For your light to shine through?
Why am I just a tiny star
In a sky already blue?
Why do I offer everything
With my heart closed like a fist?
I want to love You better than this

Why do I live like I’m in chains
When You have set me free?
And why do I have to break Your heart
Before I fall to my knees?
I know it’s time to pray for change
Give all I have to give
I want to love You better than this

So renew me
Remake me
Undo me
Unbreak me
Come into the empty spaces
Of my broken places
And consume me
Complete me
Pursue me
Redeem me
Renew me

I need Your power to renew me....
I need to know You’re moving through me

I need You as my refuge
My first and last resort
Be the river always running
Through my deepest thoughts
Keep me in Your arms
‘Cause even when I drift
I want to love You better than this

So renew me
Remake me
Undo me
Unbreak me
Come into the empty spaces
Of my broken places
And consume me
Complete me
Pursue me
Redeem me
Renew me
My life bending to Your will
Seeking You until I’m more and more like You
~*~*~*~

Silverstone

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

posted March 16, 2007 08:54 PM              

Here's one for you~

Fairy-Land
by Edgar Allan Poe

Dim vales— and shadowy floods—
And cloudy—looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again— again— again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the star—light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon—dial,
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down— still down— and down,
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O'er the strange woods— o'er the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how deep!— O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like— almost anything—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before—
Videlicet, a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again,
(Never—contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.

-The End-

Here's another I found that I like:

Fate
Ralph Waldo Emerson

That you are fair or wise is vain,
Or strong, or rich, or generous;
You must have also the untaught strain
That sheds beauty on the rose.
There is a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea:
Toil could never compass it;
Art its height could never hit;
It came never out of wit;
But a music music-born
Well may Jove and Juno scorn.
Thy beauty, if it lack the fire
Which drives me mad with sweet desire,
What boots it? what the soldier's mail,
Unless he conquer and prevail?
What all the goods thy pride which lift,
If thou pine for another's gift?
Alas! that one is born in blight,
Victim of perpetual slight:
When thou lookest on his face,
Thy heart saith, "Brother, go thy ways!
None shall ask thee what thou doest,
Or care a rush for what thou knowest,
Or listen when thou repliest,
Or remember where thou liest,
Or how thy supper is sodden;"
And another is born
To make the sun forgotten.
Surely he carries a talisman
Under his tongue;
Broad are his shoulders, and strong;
And his eye is scornful,
Threatening, and young.
I hold it of little matter
Whether your jewel be of pure water,
A rose diamond or a white,
But whether it dazzle me with light.
I care not how you are dressed,
In the coarsest or in the best;
Nor whether your name is base or brave;
Nor for the fashion of your behavior;
But whether you charm me,
Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me,
And dress up Nature in your favor.
One thing is forever good;
That one thing is Success, --
Dear to the Eumenides,
And to all the heavenly brood.
Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,
Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.

Enigma
by Edgar Allan Poe

The noblest name in Allegory's page,
The hand that traced inexorable rage;
A pleasing moralist whose page refined,
Displays the deepest knowledge of the mind;
A tender poet of a foreign tongue,
(Indited in the language that he sung.)
A bard of brilliant but unlicensed page
At once the shame and glory of our age,
The prince of harmony and stirling sense,
The ancient dramatist of eminence,
The bard that paints imagination's powers,
And him whose song revives departed hours,
Once more an ancient tragic bard recall,
In boldness of design surpassing all.
These names when rightly read, a name [make] known
Which gathers all their glories in its own.

------------------
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.