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Invitation

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles

for a musical battle
to see who can sing
the highest note
or the lowest

or the most expressive of mirth
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air

as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
but for the sheer delight and gratitude-
believe us, they say
it is a serious thing

just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world
I beg of you

do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance

it could mean something.
it could mean everything.
it could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote
You must change your life

by Mary Oliver from her new book Red Bird

Thank you Lucianne for the poem
And tcd123usa for the photo

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Emerging Independence

More personal confessions…

It’s strange to me how much I “need” to have others validate things that I do or experience, how much I can deny my own experiencing, minimizing it, not honoring the fullness of intensity that is my living or the guided action that emerges from my listening. For example, I’ve noticed lately how I experience a touch of wholeness when someone validates how deeply I feel. It surprises me (and then often moves me to tears) how healing and confirming it is to have someone else simply acknowledge that I experience life intensely, that I feel deeply. How curious that I don’t trust my own experiencing as proof. Intellectually I do, but at a sensing level there is still so much I am learning to trust.

I am grateful for people in my life who reflect these realities back to me. Through the interdependence of our relationships, I am invited into greater independence, a fuller knowing of what it’s like to be me. What a blessing.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

~ Mary Oliver

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At black water pond
the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
Oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?

Mary Oliver

(thank you graceful presence)

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