Tag Archive | spirituality

Love is patient, love is kind

1 Corinthians 13

1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.

4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.

9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.

10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.

11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

Renascence – Edna St. Vincent Millay

I have always admired the work of Edna St. Vincent Millay but of all her poems, this one is my favorite.  It is rather long but the intensity of feeling and vivid mental imagery evoked by this poem make it well worth the read.  


 

RENASCENCE

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

All I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked another way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I’d started from;
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.
 
Over these things I could not see;
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small
My breath came short, and scarce at all.
 
But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I’ll lie
And look my fill into the sky.
And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And—sure enough!—I see the top!
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;
I ‘most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
 
I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity
Came down and settled over me;
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,
And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass
Through which my shrinking sight did pass
Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,
And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.
 
I saw and heard, and knew at last
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,
Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence
But could not,—nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll
In infinite remorse of soul.
 
All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight
Of every brooded wrong, the hate
That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.
 
And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief
With individual desire,—
Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
About a thousand people crawl;
Perished with each,—then mourned for all!
 
A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.
I saw at sea a great fog bank
Between two ships that struck and sank;
A thousand screams the heavens smote;
And every scream tore through my throat.
 
No hurt I did not feel, no death
That was not mine; mine each last breath
That, crying, met an answering cry
From the compassion that was I.
All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
Mine, pity like the pity of God.
 
Ah, awful weight! Infinity
Pressed down upon the finite Me!
My anguished spirit, like a bird,
Beating against my lips I heard;
Yet lay the weight so close about
There was no room for it without.
And so beneath the weight lay I
And suffered death, but could not die.
 
Long had I lain thus, craving death,
When quietly the earth beneath
Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
At last had grown the crushing weight,
Into the earth I sank till I
Full six feet under ground did lie,
And sank no more,—there is no weight
Can follow here, however great.
From off my breast I felt it roll,
And as it went my tortured soul
Burst forth and fled in such a gust
That all about me swirled the dust.
 
Deep in the earth I rested now;
Cool is its hand upon the brow
And soft its breast beneath the head
Of one who is so gladly dead.
And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatched roof,
And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath a friendly sound
To one who’s six feet underground;
And scarce the friendly voice or face:
A grave is such a quiet place.
 
The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home.
I would I were alive again
To kiss the fingers of the rain,
To drink into my eyes the shine
Of every slanting silver line,
To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
From drenched and dripping apple-trees.
For soon the shower will be done,
And then the broad face of the sun
Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
Until the world with answering mirth
Shakes joyously, and each round drop
Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.
 
How can I bear it; buried here,
While overhead the sky grows clear
And blue again after the storm?
O, multi-colored, multiform,
Beloved beauty over me,
That I shall never, never see
Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!
O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured
In one big torrent, set me free,
Washing my grave away from me!
 
I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
Like music down the vibrant string
Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!
Before the wild wind’s whistling lash
The startled storm-clouds reared on high
And plunged in terror down the sky,
And the big rain in one black wave
Fell from the sky and struck my grave.
 
I know not how such things can be;
I only know there came to me
A fragrance such as never clings
To aught save happy living things;
A sound as of some joyous elf
Singing sweet songs to please himself,
And, through and over everything,
A sense of glad awakening.
The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,
Whispering to me I could hear;
I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips
Brushed tenderly across my lips,
Laid gently on my sealed sight,
And all at once the heavy night
Fell from my eyes and I could see,—
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust
Of wind blew up to me and thrust
Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—
I know not how such things can be!—
I breathed my soul back into me.
 
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise
Can e’er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!
 
Thou canst not move across the grass
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;
God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!
 
The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.
But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat—the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

Happy Place

 

happy place1

 

MY HAPPY PLACE

By Lily Frost

The peaceful glow of the moon,
the warm rays of the sun,
the freshness of a mid-morning sun shower.
All set the stage of my happy place.

In this place, I am in charge.
In this place, I also obey with a whole heart.
No hunger of life’s needs, do I feel,
not while walking in my happy place.

It has no walls, no sad faces,
no silent tears, only energetic smiles,
busy fingers working eagerly knowing that,
in my happy place, I am succeeding today.

It is a safe place, a good place,
a place to collect my thoughts,
to plan my action, to listen to my heart,
to pray for forgiveness and guidance.

My happy place is the only place
that I am totally at peace.
I truly believe we all have it.
It is called the “wise” mind.

http://www.beyondprose.com/index.php/poetry-my-happy-place-44044/

Morning

good morning3

Image from http://www.imgion.com

MORNING

By Sri Chinmoy

The morning sun
Surrounds us
With its cosmic
Embrace

The Soulful
Morning smile
Is a treasure
Of the mind
And heart alike.

In the morning
The greatness of
The mind and
The goodness of
The heart are
Inseparable.

In the morning
Our hearts dawn
With sweetness-
Dewdrops.

Each morning
Is the birth
Of a new
Opportunity.

In the morning
Heaven descends
In all its glory
To become
The rising sun.

The morning light
Feeds our hearts
And guides our lives.

In morning’s
Silence-delight,
The Supreme
Himself visits my
Heart-abode.

At the morning dawn,
I hear the gentle whisper
Of my blessingful
inner guide.

 

Click on the link below for a short bio on Sri Chinmoy:

http://www.shortpoems.org/srichinmoy/index.html

Raven spirit guide

raven print

Image from Diana Martin Studio at etsy.com — “More Than A Legend”

Ravens are the largest songbird in North America.  Ravens are often referred to by some indigenous tribes as the ‘secret keepers’ and are the subject of many stories.  Their ebony black color is sometimes associated with darkness.  Ravens are very intelligent and are able mimic the sounds other birds and can squawk out some human words.  Ravens are found in many different regions and climates.

RAVEN MEDICINE

The raven spirit guide is not chosen by those who seek its wisdom.  The raven only comes to those to whom it may speak in private and share its secrets with the knowledge its mysteries will be well guarded by one who already possesses wisdom.

The raven is known as the ‘Secret Keeper’ by some native tribes because of their way of silently perching near people and ‘listening’ to conversations then flying away in a flutter shrieking an eerie sound or mimicking a human word.  Because of their inky black color they are linked to a place where fear and secrets are kept.

When sun shines on the ravens shiny body it sometimes reflects many colors is therefore sometimes said it has the ability to transform itself, especially when it makes the call of another species.  If the raven is seen in dreams or visions it may mean significant changes are about to take place.

Ravens are intelligent and can be seen in the wild ‘instructing’ other birds and animals.  From the raven we may learn ways to become better teachers and understand the languages of many.

Regardless of common European belief, the raven is not an omen of death and should never be feared as its messages are those that can benefit the listener.  The Creator did not make any evil creatures on Mother Earth.

Because of ravens ability to make a variety of sounds and high pitched vibrations are known to alter consciousness, the raven is sometimes credited with the ability to transform, move into other dimensions or to shape shift.  We may expect frequent changes if the raven is perched on your shoulder.

Information courtesy of http://www.manataka.org/page236.html#RAVEN, Manataka American Indian Council.