the fairy hour

blest are the fairy hour, the twilight shade

  of ev'ning wand'ring thro her woodlands dear;

sweet the still sound that steals along the glade;

  'tis fancy wafts it, and her vot'ries hear.




ann radcliffe

late spring sky

the view up the rise and onto the playing fields at my school as i leave for home on a late spring day . . .

all you do

the best stories are handed on by the wise and kindly

now is the time
now is the time to know 
that all that you do is sacred.

hafiz

each seed a moment

seeds scattered on the stairs to my front porch

each a tree in waiting

so like each moment as it arrives and departs

changed

or unchanged

as the moment demands

and i stand

humble and arrogant all at once

looking at these scattered moments

each waiting for the sun wind water and earth

of my presence

to bring life to -

or to sweep away

with my indifference

front porch sandcherry blossoms

each night

they wait

as

temporary as time

as sweet as love

this that i call life

this

these

when i stop

moving forward

drawn by time

pushed by memory

and let this single moment

this small space

become everything

even for an instant

i am reminded of all that i hold dear and true

and feel the completeness

of the transitory

the waterworn

the windblown

the earthborn

the holding still for this 

that i call life

this is what i know . . .

the angels have bowed down to you and drowned

your soul in being, past all sound –

do not despise yourself, for there is none

who could with you sustain comparison;

do not torment yourself — your soul is all,

your body but a fleeting particle.

this all will clarify, and in its light

each particle will shine, distinctly bright –

as flesh remains an agent of the soul,

your soul’s an agent of the sacred whole.

but “part” and “whole” must disappear at last;

the way is one, and number is surpassed.

a hundred thousand clouds above you press;

their rain is pure, unending happiness;

and when the desert blooms with flowers, their scent

and beauty minister to your content;

the prayers of all the angels, all they do,

all their obedience, God bestows on you.

farid ud-din attar (persia, 12th century)

english version by afkham darbandi and dick davis

you can read "the conference of the birds" of which this is a small part, right here

roads go ever on

a quiet backroad in prince edward county, ontario 

roads go ever ever on, 

over rock and under tree, 

by caves where never sun has shone, 

by streams that never find the sea; 

roads go ever ever on 

under cloud and under star, 

yet feet that wandering have gone 

turn at last to home afar. 

 j.r.r. tolkien

i know

i know this place

as well

as any other 

i know you

much less than most

this place

and this you

and now you

much more

than any

this flower

this self

in my eyes

decayed and fallen
still

beautiful

let the beauty we love be what we do . . .

today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. 

don't open the door to the study and begin reading. 

take down a musical instrument. 

let the beauty we love be what we do. 

there are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

rumi

a light left on

In the evening we came back
Into our yellow room,
For a moment taken aback
To find the light left on,
Falling on silent flowers,
Table, book, empty chair
While we had gone elsewhere,
Had been away for hours.

excerpted from "a light left on" by may sarton

clocks

poised

and waiting

for the moment

suspended in time

the first condition of work

you can wander and watch and wonder under all manner of skies and never know the unconditional love that is this place . . . the first condition of work . . . . 

a respectful and considerate awe for my place in this wholeness.

and then a sunburst . . .

rounding little lake on my bike i passed this line of yellow tulips

mouths pursed

each in a row

expectant

and i wondered at this

why?

why rows?

i put my bike down and lay on my tummy on the ground and watched the sky change from their perspective. it carried rain this morning and then . . .

a secret sky

“this is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. first to let go of life. finally, to take a step without feet.”


rumi

she said "purdy", well, i thought of al . . .

 look down on myself from above

then front and both sides

it's really not very surprising

that love spoken by my voice

should be when I am listening

and how explain that?

a still pool in the forest

remains a sort of half-love

that is akin to kindness

excerpted (and reassembled) from al purdy "listening to myself"

where i go . . .

after difficult days or even on days when i feel the need to be as alone as alone can be simply so i can gather my self together . . .

i head to a cemetery near my school that has the otonabee river flowing right beside it . . . the trees, the sky, the river and the peacefulness never fail to heal  . . .

beauty all around

i look up . . .

i look down . . .

i cannot imagine, even for one moment that i get to share my life with these beautiful creatures on land that i can call "my own"! 

my own?! 

ha! naaaaahhh. we're sharing this . . . . . 

on my way home

little lake. peterborough. early evening. 

one moment in an extraordinary day.

my mum!

thankyou with all that i am, to my amazing mum . . . who has taught me about love, care, kindness, generosity of spirit, patience, and especially about my work here - bringing whatever goodness i can, in the time i am given.

i talk to the wind - and i listen . . .

saturday brunch (ii)

back from the market loaded down with home made goodies.

now for brunch!!!

park bench

at times i feel brightly coloured and worn . . . 

golden fish

my classroom aquarium has five goldfish - designated "feeder fish" - i bought them a couple of years ago and paid a quarter a piece i think. they have lived in the class since then and each summer i put them in a tupperware container on the back of my bike and take them home to their summer aquarium. then i pack them back up in the fall and they head back to the more spacious accomodations of room 212!! the hearts - algae of course!!

the blogger as a middle aged man

 

 i came across this self-portrait and recognized the man for who he is and even something of who he will become.

there is of course a space between those two states. i can tell you, he is acutely aware of what it will cost him to draw those two states together!

there is in him the capacity to effect change at a micro level right now. he teaches, he fundraises for a couple of very worthy causes. one a medical condition called huntington's disease, the other to support a small but healthy community in malawi.

that there is more possible and still to come is something he is entirely aware of. what stands between him and that state?

faith, conviction, and time.

 first to get his earthly matters into a form that supports this work to be becoming. and then? well the expansion of something he has known as a teacher for a number of years now . . .

i myself cannot articulate the form or features of the future becoming present beyond my knowing that my work to this point has been entirely worthy and good, while also knowing that it is a form of preparation for something that is already reaching back from the future and pulling me closer.

spring trees

i heard the low hum of insect life, and felt the balmy air of a spring morning fanning my cheek. gradually it assumed a rhythmic flow, to whose soft pulsations my body seemed to respond.

jack london (excerpted from "a thousand deaths")

scenes at a dam

mid-morning in spring

mid-morning yesterday.  a beautiful day . . . . !

saturday brunch

one of my favourite meals of the week!

she's demanding . . .

she simply isn't happy when i get home late . . . . 

riding and life

the fifty five years and eight months old rider chugs north of peterborough with the wind behind him, knowing full well that as in life, the wind will be waiting for him when he turns back!!! no matter, it's too beautiful to get caught up in the wish i may wish i mights of life and riding. i look around and i see goodness and beauty! i thank God for that!

plants speak

come on come on come on . . . it's sooooooo nice outside lemme out lemme out pleeeeeeeeeasssse!!!!