"I find I am humming, softly, not to the music, but to something else, some place else. A place remembered."
from A River Runs Through It
I can also be found at all the words (poems) and in silence, humming softly (musing)...
My other site the far blue hills (gardens, nature) is awaiting my attention to photographs... naming, sorting, rearranging. Not abandoned, just taking a rest.
Courage is exhibited when someone strikes out into unfamiliar territory where few if any have yet gone, and helps pioneer a new way of working and serving. [They] blaze new trails despite what everyone else around them is doing, and whether or not others join, they do what they see is right, at whatever sacrifice. When someone lives originally and courageously, it inspires others to examine their own lives and actions and find within themselves the courage to follow their own original paths.
-Dave Smith from To Be of Use, The Seven Seeds of Meaningful Work
For Lucy, who called them “ghost houses.”
Someone was always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses wait like old wives
along this road; they are everywhere,
abandoned, leaning, turning gray.
Someone always traded
the lonely beauty
of hemlock and stony lakeshore
for survival,…
Harry Manx, Crazy Love… heard this on the radio for the first time this morning, passing it along.
John Singer Sargent: Staircase in Capri, 1878.
Our world is so vast, and so small. I go to visit blogs found years ago, and find these old favourites posting and commenting on new friends and favourites. Someone or something that seemed quite far, draws near. The world seems a little closer. The blog I went back to find today was one I pulled from thin air on a sad day several years ago… Googling those exact words, amazed to find a blog of the same name. Something Beautiful I said, and voila, there it was. Today, I again wandered through this lovely place, following the trail of crumbs from one place of beauty to another. And there, I find some of you. Wherever I find you, you make my day. Thank you.
Everything is Waiting for You
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
—David Whyte
