Zwischenwelten: May 20, 2015

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Twilight on the frozen lake
And north wind about to break
On footprints in the snow
The silence down below

You're beautiful beyond words
You're beautiful to me
And you could make me cry
Never say goodbye

Because my dreams are made of iron and steel
With a big bouquet
Of roses hanging down
From the Heavens to the ground

The crashing waves roll over me
As I stand upon the sand
And wait for you to come
And grab hold of my hand

Oh, baby, baby, baby blue
And you'll change your last name, too
You've turned your hair to brown
Love to see it hangin' down

Bob Dylan - All Along The Watchtower

i know these two..maybe

Marjan Herlic (photo)
from fb page of Sanatin Öyküsü

photography, more, Gloria Fila

https://www.facebook.com/gloria.fila1?pnref=story

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Gloria-Fila-Photography/317730758391056

let them come and let them go (by: a-kuri)

by: a-kuri

taken from fb page of

ChingYang Tung

We tend to focus on, and speak about the soul life of an individual in terms of spiritual comfort and deep nourishment, qualities which are a central, and abiding dynamic of its presence, but the equally unsettling and disturbing quality about this strange, often wild and courageous faculty of belonging inside us we have come to name ‘the soul’ is its ruthless, and almost tidal wish to find its own way to a full union with the world. The soul is a planner’s nightmare, the career counselor’s central surprise, the biographer’s conundrum, an internal abiding spring that is both a source and a continual unstoppable flow, an internal stranger at the door of our outer life about to break everything apart and leave; a pilgrim suddenly more in love with the horizon than its home; and most disturbingly, someone who is willing to fail, often spectacularly, at their own life rather than succeed drably, at someone else’s.

Spring Thoughts © David Whyte April 2015

Photo© David Whyte
Road and Horizon
Cumbria 2011

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Vulnerability, David Whyte

VULNERABILITY

is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without, vulnerability is not a choice, vulnerability is the underlying, ever present and abiding under-current of our natural state. To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence of our nature; the attempt to be invulnerable is the vain attempt to become something we are not and most especially, to close off our understanding of the grief of others. More seriously, in refusing our vulnerability we refuse to ask for the help needed at every turn of our existence and immobilize the essential, tidal and conversational foundations of our identity.

To have a temporary, isolated sense of power over all events and circumstances, is a lovely illusory privilege and perhaps the prime, beautifully constructed conceit of being human and most especially of being youthfully human, but it is a privilege that must be surrendered with that same youth, with ill health, with accident, with the loss of loved ones who do not share our untouchable powers; powers eventually and most emphatically given up, as we approach our last breath.

The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit our vulnerability, how we become larger and more courageous and more compassionate through our intimacy with disappearance, our choice is to inhabit vulnerability as generous citizens of loss, robustly and fully, or conversely, as misers and complainers, reluctant, and fearful, always at the gates of existence, but never bravely and completely attempting to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never walking fully through the door.

‘VULNERABILITY’ From CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words
MANY RIVERS PRESS © 2015 David Whyte

Now Available
http://davidwhyte.stores.yahoo.net/newbook.html

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my note: i like this post tremendously!

Much has been said, David Whyte

MUCH HAS BEEN SAID

Much has been said about the eternal and untouchable nature of love, its tidal ungovernable forces and its emergence from beyond the ordinary, but love may find its fullest, most imagined and most courageous form when it leaves the abstractions and safety of the timeless, the eternal and the untouchable to make its promises amidst the fears, vulnerabilities and disappearances of our difficult, touchable and time bound world. To love and to witness love in the face of possible loss and to find the mystery of love's promise in the shadow of that loss, in the shadow of the ordinary and in the shadow of our own inevitable disappearance may be where the eternal source of all of our origins stands in awe of the full consequences of everything it has set in motion.