oh! the uncontainable luxury of a spacious saturday morning as we stretched out on your bed limbs entangled skin to skin we spoke of the spaciousness of the land of man’s need to contain it and the earth’s persistence in asserting herself i– drew a pattern on your beautiful back to illustrate a river’s path…
within the burgeoning spring the wind blows fiercely living things are wrenched apart
The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably….
maybe all i ever needed was to let life come to me to stop trying so hard to wait and listen to be a bowl to be filled more chalice less blade i like being filled up i like being soft
Let my life not be measured by gold or productivity or towers built for someone to later knock down Instead, let it be measured by the number of kisses on my neck, my forehead, my lips (and elsewhere). Let my life be measured by the number of times I have heard or spoken the words…
This morning on the bus, I was running my hands through my daughter’s golden tresses and started giving her a scalp massage. As she relaxed, I said, “Mmmm…this is luxury. This is luxurious like– delicious dark chocolate, puppy breath, a spring rain, velvet on my skin, the sun kissing my shoulders at the beach, red…