Why does it matter where I live?
In the canyon I can wile away my days.
The sun rises and sets, and I listen
to the soughing breeze in the oaks.
Let others pursue activities and goods,
I will BE, among creation
while the busy world spins faster
so far away
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her
unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.”
And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”
The tired and the weary say, “Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.”
But the restless say, “We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions.”
At night the watchmen of the city say, “Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.”
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say,
“We have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.”
In winter say the snow-bound, “She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.”
And in the summer heat the reapers say,
“We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves,
and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.”
All these things have you said of beauty,
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes
and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
It’s a stormy time here now. the forest around us moans like a freight train.. I heard the snap of a tree and looked up in time to see it crash to the ground. Wind and rain compel me inside…. and I looked for poetry befitting the mood induced by dark roiling clouds, and interminable howling winds.
In the canyon bottom in winter, many spots never get touched by sunshine at all for several weeks. Dark, shaded and moist, the canyon bottom is an entirely different environment than just a few hundred feet uphill.
Shady deep canyon in winter
‘Weathercock’
~Jethro tull~
Good morning Weathercock:
How did you fare last night?
Did the cold wind bite you,
did you face up to the fright
When the leaves spin from October
and whip around your tail?
Did you shake from the blast,
did you shiver through the gale?
Give us direction; the best of goodwill —
Put us in touch with fair winds.
Sing to us softly, hum evening’s song —
Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.
Do you simply reflect changes in the patterns of the sky,
Or is it true to say the weather heeds the twinkle in your eye?
Do you fight the rush of winter; do you hold snowflakes at bay?
Do you lift the dawn sun from the fields and help him on his way?
Good morning Weathercock: make this day bright.
Put us in touch with your fair winds.
Sing to us softly, hum evening’s song.
Point the way to better days we can share with you.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
‘First Recollection’
~Cowboy Junkies~
My first recollection is a day in December
black iron steam engine covered in ice
like some Precambrian monster
moaning and snorting
Nothing was ever going to beat that beast
in a fair fight
I’ve sat and watched the woodpiles
grow through the summer
now I’m sitting, smelling summer burn through the fall
Winter’s coming on, days getting dreary
and I’m thinking this is the season
that I leave you all
I’ve heard a man in crisis
falls back on what he knows best,
a murderer to murder
a thief to theft
And I don’t want you to think
that this is some kind of deathbed confession
but run is what I did when put to the test
My first recollection is a day in December
747 tracing lines through the sky
like some old gypsy curse
silently preying upon the dreams of those
who jealously watch life pass by
I’ve sat and watched my troubles
pile through the summer
now I’m sitting, hearing my youngest cry
down the hall
Winter’s coming on, days getting dreary
and I’m thinking this is the season
that I leave you all
I’ve heard that the son must bear
the burdens of the father
but it’s the daughter that is left
to clean up the mess
And I don’t want you to think
that I’m asking for absolution,
but run is what I did when put to the test
‘Lay It down’
~Cowboy junkies~
He left his dead in the cottonwood trees
the ground grown too hard with the years
Falling down was not what it used to be
the ground grown too hard with the years
He told his children those little white lies
the truth would only paralyze them
He told himself those little white lies
the truth would only paralyze him
Lay it down, lay it down
He sold most of what he cherished,
the rest he let them steal
Shot his dog out in the open field,
the rest he let them steal
He broke all of his promises,
under a sea green sky
They never thought to ask him why,
under a sea green sky
Lay it down, lay it down
Please bury me in the cottonwood trees
the ground grown too cold for me
Going to sleep tonight in a warm feather bed
the ground grown too cold for me
It’s windy today…. One of the trees up the hill from us fell over. It’s been dead and diseased for two years now… but in a hard spot to get to due to the slope. Since it is a bit remote from the house, it seemed simpler and safer to leave it stand until it falls over in a storm. Cutting a decayed tree is very risky, and in this instance is made so much worse by the difficulty of the terrain. There’s no buildings nearby.. so now that it has fallen down I’ll be able to drag it downhill to a flat spot and cut it up safely. I was outside watching the storm and the winds when I heard the crack of the tree as it broke… I looked up just as it was hitting the ground.
Fallen Monterey pine
Fallen Monterey pine
So it seems like a time to read quotes about wind…
“It was the noise Of ancient trees falling while all was still Before the storm, in the long interval Between the gathering clouds and that light breeze Which Germans call the Wind’s bride.” ~Charles Godfrey Leland
“It’s a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April’s in the West wind, and daffodils.” ~John Masefield
“If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.” ~Kahlil Gibran
“It’s not far back to sanity, At least it’s not for me, And when the wind is right you can sail away, And find serenity” ~Christopher Cross
“I close my eyes and bath in the beauty of poetry / When I speak/My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.” Basho
”Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.” ~Alexander Pope
“It can be seen that a great inflexible army will fall under it’s own weight, just as a stiff unyielding tree will break in the wind” ~Lao Tzu
“If a man does not know to what port he is steering, no wind is favorable to him.” ~Seneca
“Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.” ~Arthur Gorden
“Good timber does not grow with ease; the stronger the wind, the stronger the trees.” ~John Willard Marriott
Country Wisdom: “If wind comes before rain, it doesn’t mean much. But if rain comes before wind, tighten your tarps”
“I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures.” ~Geronimo
Country Wisdom: “The fellow who pays attention to the wind never sows his seeds; the one who watches the clouds never harvests his crop”
“In the bleak midwinter, Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.” ~ Christina Rossetti
“If there is no wind, row”- Latin proverb
“A certain amount of opposition is a great help to a man. Kites rise against, not with, the wind.” ~Lewis Mumford
“For that which is boundless in you
abides in the mansion of the sky,
whose door is the morning mist,
and whose windows
are the songs and the silences of night”
Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness
ere you build a house within the city walls.
For even as you have home-comings in your twilight,
so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your house is your larger body.
It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night;
and it is not dreamless.
Does not your house dream?
and dreaming, leave the city for grove or hill-top?
Would that I could gather your houses into my hand,
and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.
Would the valleys were your streets,
and the green paths your alleys,
that you might seek one another through vineyards,
and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.
But these things are not yet to be.
In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together.
And that fear shall endure a little longer.
A little longer shall your city walls
separate your hearths from your fields.
And tell me, people of Orphalese,
what have you in these houses?
And what is it you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace,
the quiet urge that reveals your power?
Have you remembrances,
the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?
Have you beauty,
that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?
Tell me, have you these in your houses?
Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort,
that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest,
and then becomes a host and then a master?
Ay, and it becomes a tamer,
and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.
Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.
It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed
and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.
It makes mock of your sound senses,
and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.
Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul,
and then walks grinning in the funeral.
But you, children of space, you restless in rest,
you shall not be trapped nor tamed.
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound,
but an eyelid that guards the eye.
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors,
nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling,
nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.
You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.
And though of magnificence and splendour,
your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky,
whose door is the morning mist,
and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night
Nature has given each species certain hormonal urges to ensure procreation. Mankind has these same urges…
Often nature ensures that animals are ‘hard-wired’ to see the differences in others of the same species as likely indications of a suitable mating partner. This is a method that ensures the mating units are not too closely related… this widening of the gene pool leads to what we call ‘Hybrid vigor’. It is this ‘Opposites Attract’ feature that gives us widely dissimilar people who find some common interest in one another.
Ladies Love Country Boys
Trace Adkins
She grew up in the city in a little subdivision,
Her daddy wore a tie, Momma never fried a chicken,
Ballet, Straight A’s, Most likely to succeed
They bought her a car after graduation
Sent her down south for some higher education
Put her on the fast track to a law degree
Now she’s comin home to visit
holdin the hand
Of a wild-eyed boy
with a farmer’s tan
And shes ridin in the middle of his pickup truck
Blarin Charlie Daniels yellin, “Turn it up!”
They raised her up a lady
but there’s one thing they couldn’t avoid
Ladies love country boys
This song is something like Vickie and me… she grew up in Orange County… she really never knew anyone with a garden until she journeyed to the country to visit her brother who was working on a local landscape crew due to his knowledge of Spanish. She saw a whole new life in the bush after she met me….
But it sure was a different life than the city… we lived for a time in a tow-behind 27 foot travel-trailer. We grew much of our own food, and had no Television. As the song said… it was as primitive as could be. And it was fun, and new for us both.
While the initial onrush of ‘Romantic Love’ is heady and easy to flow along with…. it is the long-term committed relationship that requires constant work, and forgiveness and love… and may require a bit of that in varying degrees each and every day…. To forgive and to accept and to deal with shortcomings and problems is the only way to continue.
Just as Reba says….
~Reba MyIntyre~
‘I Keep On Loving You’
“Love takes the patience of Job”
That’s what my Mama always said
‘Faith is the belief in something more than what you know’
That’s what the Good Book says
You gotta play the cards you got
Who knows what fate is holding
At times you gotta go without knowing where you’re goin’
That’s why I keep on lovin’ you
I keep on lovin’ you
Through the ‘baby don’t leave mes’
And ‘never will agains’
And ‘I promise tos’
I keep on lovin’ you
Lord knows we’ve had our share of fights
Our sleepless nights, our ups and downs
We’ve had plenty and then some of ‘baby I’m gones’ and turnarounds
Sometimes I swear it might be easier to throw in the towel
Someday we’re gonna look back
And say “look at us now”
That’s why I keep on lovin’ you
I keep on lovin’ you
Through the baby don’t leave mes
And never will agains
And I promise tos
I keep on lovin’ you
I’ve heard it said that “Men marry women hoping they’ll never change… Women marry men hoping they can change them”.
Best is to pick someone you can put up with, and remain committed to… and hopefully you will have picked a person that can put up with you… and will remain committed to you also.
I suppose it’s something of a crapshoot… and I never was a gambling man….
An uncle of mine told me to “stay single, and raise your kids to do the same”… somehow in the sixties that was a really funny line.. cause no one had kids without being married (it seemed). But he had five or six wives in his time….. he was speaking from experience.
Kahlil Gibran ‘On Marriage’
Then Almitra spoke again and said…
“And what of Marriage, master?”
And he answered saying:
You were born together,
and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings
of death scatter your days.
Aye, you shall be together even in the
silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between
the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together.
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress
grow not in each other’s shadow.
Give yourselves some room…. for most folks being together 24-7 is too tough. Get out and blaze some paths, encounter some new people… have some adventures…. but always be good.. so that you can come home and be happy to be there.. and have no regrets. Life with regrets is burdensome and heavy.
But get away from one-another on occasion… just remember:
‘There ain’t no place like home’
Train
‘Drops of Jupiter’
Now that she’s back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation
She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo
Reminds me that there’s room to grow
But tell me
Did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get the chance to
Dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way
Tell me
Did Venus blow your mind
Was it everything you wanted to find?
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
Can you imagine no
Love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you
Even when I know you’re wrong
Can you imagine no
First dance, freeze-dried romance
Five hour phone conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had and me
Tell me
Did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way
To see the lights are faded
And that heaven is overrated
Tell me
Did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself
And did you finally get the chance
to dance along the light of day?
Yep
Vickie and I are quite different, and yet strangely so alike in so many ways…
and after half a lifetime together we still get along and love one another….
although sometimes we grate on one another….
at those times we agree not to speak of the ‘issues or problems’….
luckily we have a lot of space….
and in a short time… there is no trouble.
Because in time most troubles fade away….
and in the end nothing else really matters but love.
And after we leave, that’s all we can take with us.
‘The Touch of the Master’s Hand’
~Myra Brooks Welch~
It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bid, good people”, he cried,
“Who starts the bidding for me?”
“One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?”
“Two dollars, who makes it three?”
“Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,”
But, No,
From the room far back a gray-bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said “What now am I bid for this old violin?”
As he held it aloft with its’ bow.
“One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?”
“Two thousand, Who makes it three?”
“Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone”, said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
“We just don’t understand.”
“What changed its worth?”
Swift came the reply.
“The Touch of the Masters Hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters’ Hand.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
What a beautiful little piece the above is.
I’ve been in some extreme situations… met some horrendous people in my life….
Yet, even I still have faith that nearly everyone can be saved….
Sad besotted lives… nightmares in daily living…
Even they, with the help of the right person can be freed of their demons and live a happy existence….
It just takes the right help from the right person.
When you are the right person… won’t you please help?Because NOTHING in this life is purely by chance….
everything we experience is a learning point…
every day we are given opportunities to increase our internal wealth
and you never know when the fellow you pull out of the ditch
is the one who will fill you with internal gold
“Help thy brother’s boat across, and lo!, thine own has reached the shore.”
~Hindu proverb~
We’ve been oranically certified since 1993….
This is one song that runs right into and through me…
All I want to do is grow cactus, and live in this beautiful, quiet, remote canyon.
Jason Aldean
‘Amarillo Sky’
He says
“Lord, I never complain, I never ask why…
please don’t let my dreams run dry” On his knees every night he prays
“please let my crops and children grow…”
’cause that’s all he knows
