November 14th, 2006

Book Cover

Good Morning!

My power went off this morning, and so it did all sorts of odd things to my computer, and my sent mail is now in a unique order,  so that  when I opened it, this is what popped up, an email I sent in 2004.   I place it here.

From John O’Donohue's book Beauty, The Invisible Embrace - Rediscovering the true sources of compassion, serenity, and hope.  





     W. S. Graham -


                Listen.  Put on morning. 

                Waken into falling light.




                Rilke in the ninth Duino Elegy -


                                Perhaps we are here in order to say: house,

                                bridge, fountain, gate, pitcher, fruit-tree, window …..

                                To say them more intensely that the Things themselves

                                Ever dreamed of existing.




O’Donohue’s words -


    “How can we ever know the difference we make to the soul of the earth? Where the infinite stillness of the earth meets the passion of the human eye, the invisible depths strain towards the mirror of the name.  In the word, the earth breaks silence. It has waited a long time for the word.  Concealed beneath familiarity and silence, the earth holds back and it never occurs to us to wonder how the earth sees us.  Is it not possible that a place could have huge affection for those who dwell there?  Perhaps your place loves having you there.  It misses you when you are away and in its secret way rejoices when you return.  Could it be possible that a landscape might have a deep friendship with you?  That it could sense your presence and feel the care you extend towards it?  Perhaps your favorite place feels proud of you.  We tend to think of death as a return to clay, a victory for nature.  But maybe it is the converse: that when you die, your native place will fill with sorrow. It will miss your voice, your breath and the bright waves of your thought, how you walked through the light and brought news of other places.  When the funeral cortege passes the home of the departed person, is that the home that is getting one last chance to say farewell to its beloved resident or is it the deceased getting one last look at the home?  Or is it both?  Perhaps each day our lives undertake unknown tasks on behalf of the silent mind and vast soul of nature. During its millions of years of presence perhaps it was also waiting for us, for our eyes and our words.  Each of us is a secret envoi of the earth. 


Book Cover

Synchronicity -

I go to the Shoreline Cafe this morning for breakfast, and Alice the waitress brings over a book a customer has given to her.  It is a beautiful book of his photographs and his poems.  His poems have the expansiveness and touch of Rumi and Hafiz.  He is very shy about promoting his book, she says,  and has not introduced his books to bookstores, though I see that he is on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, where he has a five star comment.   The book is published by Author House, which I have considered, and I was delighted to see how well it is done.

I had been sitting with how hard it is to promote myself, and here, I am presented with someone I could promote, and perhaps, through him, learn that it does no one any good to hide our gifts. 

When Alice looked at his book, and exclaimed, "You are an artist, a poet, a genius," he responded, with, "I'm an engineer."   Hmmm!  

Many of us do that, turn compliments away, deflect.   Jane was complimenting me this morning and I struggled to take it in as I moved sheets into the dryer, and emptied the dishwasher.  Hmmmm!    I did not expect my mirror to present so clearly this morning at the Shoreline Cafe.

The book is called The Door Is Open.   Larry Gerald's web-site is:

I give you one of his poems.   Alice said, that when she looked into the photographs, many of which are of places she knows, she felt the words he writes are what she felt when she was there, and could not articulate.  I  can't give you the photos, but I can give you this.   I'm not sure I have the punctuation just right or the spacing, as I copied it onto a small piece of paper and I am having difficulty deciphering nuance in my writing, but you get the idea.   Holiday gifts, anyone?    The Door Is Open!

            In Your Eyes

    I look into your eyes,
I am taken somewhere else,
            A veil drops,
  A glimpse of a soul being,
    Dropping into my world. 

A visitor so familiar is present.
    If only you would show up.
The whole world would dance with you.
    Soaring in quiet solitude,
    I bow in your presence.
        Tears fill my heart,.

So long I have sought your presence.
    Now in your presence.
    I am outside of time.
I am lost in the vastness of space.
    If only you would show up,
    The great party would begin.

                      - Larry Gerald

I look again at the web-site and see how clearly this material is copyrighted.  I feel I am promoting him, so do I go against the copyright to do so?   This is a very delicate issue.  I put poems that I feel are in the common domain here, and I struggle now with how personal this may be for him, and yet, it is in a book that deserves promotion.  I will leave it here for today, and see if I hear back from him, and can get permission to leave the poem here.

Book Cover

Evening -

It is evening, and I feel today was a day where I felt stroked all through the day with joyful fingers and feathers of light.  I feel tickled pink.  

I saw a bumper sticker today that I liked.   "If evolution is outlawed, only outlaws will evolve."

I read the John Fowles book, The French Lieutenant's Woman tonight.    I was struck by this paragraph that is written about the year 1867.

    "Though Charles liked to think of himself as a scientific young man and would probably not have been too surprised had news reached him out of the future of the airplane, the jet engine, television, radar: what would  have astounded him was the changed attitude to time itself.  The supposed great misery of our century is the lack of time; our sense of that, not a disinterested love of science, and certainly not wisdom, is why we devote such a huge proportion of the ingenuity and income of our societies to finding faster ways of doing things - as if the final aim of mankind was to grow closer not to a perfect humanity, but to a perfect lightning flash.  But for Charles, and for almost all his contemporaries and social peers, the time signature over existence was firmly adagio.  The problem was not fitting in all that one wanted to do, but spinning out what one did to occupy the vast colonnades of leisure available."

    I think he is speaking of a certain class in England.  Certainly those words can't fit everyone, but it does seem we are currently addicted to speed.   I like the idea of time as adagio.  

    Today I sat and watched the light on some eucalyptus leaves.  It is a marvelously light time of year.  

    May tonight be one of peace and ease, and time stretched on wings to dry.