Outcast

i, the banished, outcast rook
in a crooked, twisted tree
from far away i see you there
you don’t look and don’t see me

i see your faces as you pass
i see your truths, i see your lies
your stories written in your eyes
all these things are clear to me

outside
always looking in
feathers ruffled by the wind
watching for a winter sun

the beauty of the world, begun,
hangs above the vaulted dark,
the certainties of fathomed night,
and there, see there….the flash, the spark

i see the twinkle of the star
the door still stands and swings ajar

MAKING PERSONAL VOWS

contemplativeinquiry's avatarContemplative Inquiry

On Monday I completed a Mindful Self-Compassion (MSC) course (1). It was not strictly Buddhist, but the teachers and all the participants were sufficiently Buddhist influenced to have had existing experience of both of mindfulness and loving-kindness practices. At the same time I believe that the overall approach can offer something for anyone concerned with the issues addressed.

One of these is making and living with vows. In this context, we make the vows to ourselves and there are two key criteria. The first is that the vow anchors an intention, rather than operating as a binding contract. The second is that vows flow out of our core values. Hence, we need to get clear about these values before making any vows.

The process for checking core values is a simple one. Bringing warm-hearted awareness to ourselves and our experience, we imagine being near the end of our lives and…

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Tissue Paper Frailty

nice poem

Adam Byatt's avatarA Fullness in Brevity - Adam Byatt

your tissue paper frailty
folded seven times
a simple origami of valleys
turned into mountains
tucked into your breast pocket
a shield over your heart

– tissue paper frailty

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Knight at the Crossroads

Tired, he came to the crossroads,

to the place where his own dead were buried.

His horse halted without his command,

its head bowed down to the bone dry dust of the arid hostile earth.

Even the birds were silenced.

No water was here to be found.

 

His life had no purpose now they were gone

but still he must travel on,

seeking the grail as he always had,

for the grail was his last long hope.

Confessions

Shawn L. Bird's avatarShawn L. Bird

I am at a poetry retreat, and I have just realized I haven’t posted any new poetry in ages!  Here is one that was prompted by discussion around the table last night.


Men are afraid that women will laugh at them.

Women are afraid that men will kill them

~ Margaret Atwood

Confession:

Inside

She is laughing

at his wizened, flapping sword

Ever appreciative

it is not slashing, slicing, dividing

head from heart.

Confession:

She desires his desire,

not his possession.

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Taking up the Path of the Bard, Part II

Dana's avatarThe Druid's Garden

Creativity is the singing of the soul.  When we create, we draw from the deepest parts of who we are and express ourselves to the world.  The act of creation, the drawing forth and connecting to our inner selves, is the joy involved in creativity.  Having something nice in the end, to me, seems like a bonus! I believe this act of channeling the awen is not only inherently spiritual, it is also part of what it means to be human.  But to allow our souls to really sing, we have to grow comfortable with what we create, we have to set aside our judgement, and and to grow our skills as bards.

Last week, I explored what the bardic arts are, the cultural challenges associated with the bardic arts, and some ways community groups circumvent said challenges.   We looked at the creative spirit of children, and how that spirit…

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Cultivating the Flow of Awen in our Lives

Dana's avatarThe Druid's Garden

I shall sing of the awen, which

I shall obtain from the abyss

Through the awen, though it were mute

I know of its great impulses

I know when it minishes;

I know when it wells up;

I know when it flows;

I know when it overflows.

–Taliesin, “The Festival” from the Book of Taliesin, 13th century

What the poet Taliesin writes of is the “Awen”, a central principle in the druid tradition meaning “flowing inspiration” or “divine inspiration.”   In ancient times, bards embraced the flow of Awen to be masters of memory, sound, and expression. The bardic path was a lifelong pursuit and vocation; bards would spending many years (by one Scottish account, 7 years[1]) learning the bardic arts which included the arts of memory, diction, rhyming, and composition.

The flowing of Awen isn’t just an experience, it is a magical and meditative process. Perhaps you’ve…

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