Authentic Confidence

Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings. - Victor Hugo


🌊 From a like-hearted connection, Experience:

There's a Place:

"Full Circle"

Hold it up
Fill your cup
Look out to sea
Feel what I see

Hold it up
Fill your cup
Look out to sea
Respect what I see

And I reason with you now,
Trying to find my way out
As she's singing all these songs
Oh, she's singing to heal my soul.
Find my place, find my reason
Oh, I been here so long
Oh, she's singing with the trees
Oh, she's singing to heal me

✨ espírito afim _/|\_

belonging. be.

THE HOUSE OF BELONGING

I awoke

this morning 

in the gold light 

turning this way

and that

thinking for 

a moment 

it was one 

day

like any other.

But 

the veil had gone 

from my 

darkened heart 

and 

I thought

it must have been the quiet 

candlelight 

that filled my room,

it must have been 

the first 

easy rhythm 

with which I breathed 

myself to sleep,

it must have been 

the prayer I said 

speaking to the otherness 

of the night.

And 

I thought 

this is the good day 

you could 

meet your love,

this is the gray day 

someone close 

to you could die.

This is the day 

you realize 

how easily the thread 

is broken 

between this world 

and the next

and I found myself 

sitting up 

in the quiet pathway 

of light,

the tawny close 

grained cedar 

burning round 

me like fire 

and all the angels 

of this housely 

heaven ascending 

through the first 

roof of light 

the sun had made.

This is the bright home 

in which I live, 

this is where 

I ask

my friends 

to come, 

this is where I want 

to love all the things 

it has taken me so long 

to learn to love.

This is the temple 

of my adult aloneness 

and I belong 

to that aloneness 

as I belong to my life.

There is no house 

like the house of belonging.

…

'The House of Belonging'

From The House of Belonging

Poems by David Whyte

© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

visions of heart's delight

Gratitude can turn a

meal into a feast,

a house into a home,

a stranger into a friend.

It makes sense of our past,

brings peace for today,

and creates a vision for tomorrow.

~Melody Beattie 

💚   🙏🏼   💚

When you are sorrowful,

look again in your heart,

and you shall see that in truth you are

weeping for that which has been your delight.
- Khalil Gibran

💙   🙏🏼   💙

to live with not knowing

HONESTY

is reached through the doorway of grief and loss. Where we cannot go in our mind, our memory, or our body is where we cannot be straight with another, with the world, or with our self. The fear of loss, in one form or another, is the motivator behind all conscious and unconscious dishonesties: all of us are afraid of loss, in all its forms, all of us, at times, are haunted or overwhelmed by the possibility of a disappearance, and all of us therefore, are one short step away from dishonesty. Every human being dwells intimately close to a door of revelation they are afraid to pass through. Honesty lies in understanding our close and necessary relationship with not wanting to hear the truth.

The ability to speak the truth is as much the ability to describe what it is like to stand in trepidation at this door, as it is to actually go through it and become that beautifully honest spiritual warrior, equal to all circumstances, we would like to become. Honesty is not the revealing of some foundational truth that gives us power over life or another or even the self, but a robust incarnation into the unknown unfolding vulnerability of existence, where we acknowledge how powerless we feel, how little we actually know, how afraid we are of not knowing and how astonished we are by the generous measure of loss that is conferred upon even the most average life.

Honesty is grounded in humility and indeed in humiliation, and in admitting exactly where we are powerless. Honesty is not found in revealing the truth, but in understanding how deeply afraid of it we are. To become honest is in effect to become fully and robustly incarnated into powerlessness. Honesty allows us to live with not knowing. We do not know the full story, we do not know where we are in the story; we do not know who is at fault or who will carry the blame in the end. Honesty is not a weapon to keep loss and heartbreak at bay, honesty is the outer diagnostic of our ability to come to ground in reality, the hardest attainable ground of all, the place where we actually dwell, the living, breathing frontier where there is no realistic choice between gain or loss.

…

HONESTY
In CONSOLATIONS:
The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.
© David Whyte & Many Rivers Press 2015

"....denying her wounds came from the same source as her power"

~Marie Curie

through me tell the story

"I return once again to Homer, who says,

'Sing in me, oh Muse,

and through me tell the story.'"

......

listened to Bobby D's

Nobel Lecture

sitting on a

(covered)

balcony

while the rain softly fell.

highly recommend.

a well deserved honor:

http://www.svenskaakademien.se/en/nobel-lecture

"So what does it all mean?

Myself and a lot of other songwriters

have been influenced by these very same themes.

And they can mean a lot of different things.

If a song moves you, that’s all that’s important.

I don’t have to know what a song means.

I’ve written all kinds of things into my songs.

And I’m not going to worry about it – what it all means."

It matters.

THE POET 

moves forward
to that edge

but lives sensibly,

through the senses
not because of them.

Above all he watches
where he steps,
as if it matters

where he leaves his prints.

The senses overwhelm him
at his peril.

Though he must be taken
by something greater.
That is what he uses
senses to perceive.
....

~ David Whyte

the rEVOLution is love, part II

Not Anyone Who Says

Not anyone who says, "I'm going to be 

careful and smart in the matters of love,"

who says, "I'm going to choose slowly,"

but only those lovers who didn't choose at all

but were, as it were, chosen

by something invisible 

and powerful and uncontrollable

and beautiful and possibly even

unsuitable--

only those know what I'm talking about 

in this talking about love.

~ Mary Oliver

Together is Better Than One

💙

what is soft is strong

Water is fluid, soft, and yielding.

But water will wear away rock,

which is rigid and cannot yield.

As a rule, whatever is fluid,

soft and yielding

will over come what is rigid and hard.

This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.

- Lao-Tzu

Live life as a rehearsal
(from a Martin Landau interview I heard recently)

Trust is the most important thing.

     Trust yourself to the point where you don't rely on getting
          help from the Director...

Talent is one thing, but to trust your talent is another.

Trust your choices.

Use the rehearsals in a way where you're not watching yourself.
     "Leave the director outside"
Make choices on a scene or character from the objective point in you
Make a conscious choice.

Either trust that to your subjectivity or don't.

If you do, 

let it take you where it will~

If it does what you hope it will, it will end the scene
     As opposed to your deciding to end the scene.

Trusting yourself to the degree that you trust your subjectivity
is what rehearsals are for....

The wonderful thing about trusting yourself:
If you can swim well,
what are you worried about drowning for?
(it's a waste of time)

If you can,
     learn how to do what you do well. 
          Trust it.
               Trust your craft.

♥︎

darkest day / longest night

SWEET DARKNESS

When your eyes are tired

the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone

no part of the world can find you.

It’s time to go into the night

where the dark has eyes

to recognize its own.

It’s time to go into the dark

where the night has eyes

to recognize its own.

There you

can be sure

you are not beyond love.

The dark will make a home for you tonight.

The night

will give you a horizon

further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.

The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

~David Whyte

the one, the only

Leonard Cohen Makes It Darker

At eighty-two, the troubadour has another album coming.

Like him, it is obsessed with mortality, God-infused, and funny. 

By David Remnick

Leonard Cohen at home, Los Angeles, September, 2016.

Photograph by Graeme Mitchell for The New Yorker

October 17, 2016 Issue

from the article: When I asked him if he intended his performances to reflect a kind of devotion, he hesitated before he answered.

“Does artistic dedication

begin to touch on religious devotion?” he said.

“I start with artistic dedication.

I know that if the spirit is on you it will touch on to the other

human receptors.

But I dare not begin from the other side.

It’s like pronouncing the holy name—you don’t do it.

But if you are lucky, and you are graced, and the audience is

in a particular salutary condition,

then these deeper responses will be produced.”

 

 (blessed to have been at the show in Charlottetown, P.E.I. on his 2008 tour)

by far, the most powerfully moving live performance I have ever experienced...

♥︎ thank you ray ♥︎

Vitamin L

The Truelove

There is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.

I am thinking of faith now
and the testaments of loneliness
and what we feel we are
worthy of in this world.

Years ago in the Hebrides
I remember an old man
who walked every morning
on the grey stones
to the shore of the baying seals
who would press his hat
to his chest in the blustering
salt wind and say his prayer
to the turbulent Jesus
hidden in the water,

and I think of the story
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them

and how we are all
preparing for that
abrupt waking,
and that calling,
and that moment
we have to say yes,
except it will
not come so grandly
so Biblically
but more subtly
and intimately in the face
of the one you know
you have to love.

So that when
we finally step out of the boat
toward them, we find
everything holds
us, and everything confirms
our courage, and if you wanted
to drown you could,
but you don’t
because finally
after all this struggle
and all the years
you don’t want to any more
you’ve simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness
however fluid and however
dangerous to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.

David Whyte (House of Belonging)

I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of

so they can see that it's not the answer.
- Jim Carrey

 

Is

 

As She Is

To live in this world
you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

~Mary Oliver, In Blackwater Woods
Painting: Henri Matisse

parallel ally

David Whyte

HAUNTED

is a word that denotes an unresolved parallel, a presence that is not quite a presence; a visitation by the as yet unspeakable - it is also emblematic of the longing for incarnation, of an unbearable substrate of wanting, of not finding a home in this world or in the next, someone or something that walks the halls of our house or our mind looking for what will help to lay its own self to rest.

What haunts us is something that seeks its own disappearance, it wants to become fully itself and so depart. If we feel continually haunted over time we begin to become ghost-like ourselves and roam with intent whilst not quite knowing the object of our intention. Looking in the mirror, our face begins to look like our not quite incarnated life. We walk not exactly existing in the world we visit. Like the spirits and half-beings we imitate at Halloween, we roam the streets as if looking for an abode on this earth we are unable to locate, demanding tribute from those who dwell within. The exorcism of an unwanted spirit is consistent the world over: an invitation to return home; for it and for us to find our way back, to cease our restless ways and to quit disturbing others lives or walking their houses by night.

We cease to be haunted when we cease to be afraid of making what has been untouchable, real: especially our understandings of the past; and especially those we wronged, those we were wronged by, or those we did not help. We become real by forgiving ourselves and we forgive ourselves by changing the foundational pattern, and especially by changing our present behavior to those we have hurt. A fear of ghosts, or a fear of our own haunted mind is the measure of our absence in this world. We cease to be afraid when we give away what was never ours in the first place and begin to be present to our own lives just as we find them, even in facing what we have banished from our thoughts and made homeless, even when we do not know the way forward ourselves. When we make a friend of what we previously could not face, what once haunted us now becomes an invisible, parallel ally, a beckoning hand to our future.

We banish the misaligned when we align with what we are called to, we become visible and real when we give our gift and stop waiting for the gift to be given to us. We wake into our lives again, as if for the first time, laying to rest what previously had no home through beginning to speak, beginning to make real and beginning to live, those elements constellating inside us that long to move from the invisible to the visible.
…

‘HAUNTED’ From CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. © David Whyte

colourful

Haruki Murakami's colourful expression in words..... sigh.

"Yet it was this pain, and this sense of being choked, that he needed. It was exactly what he had to acknowledge, what he had to confront. From now on, he had to make that cold core melt, bit by bit. It might take time, but it was what he had to do. But his own body heat wasn't enough to melt that frozen soil. He needed someone else's warmth."

"First things first. Build the station. A special station just for her. The kind of station where trains want to stop, even if they have no reason to do so. Imagine that kind of station, and give it actual color and shape. Write your name on the foundation with a nail, and breathe life into it. I know you have the power to do that. Don't forget - you're the one who swam across the freezing sea at night."

"It doesn't matter... it's just a physical phenomenon, no more. The spring on a wound watch gets steadily looser, the torque grows closer and closer to zero, until the gears stop altogether and the hands come to rest at a set position. Silence descends. Isn't that all it is?"

"It was a wonderful thing to be able to truly want someone like this - the feeling was so real, so overpowering. He hadn't felt this way in ages. Maybe he never had before. Not that everything about it was wonderful: his chest ached, he found it hard to breathe, and a fear, a dark oscillation, had hold of him. But now even that kind of ache had become an important part of the affection he felt. He didn't want to let that feeling slip from his grasp. Once lost, he might never happen across that warmth again. If he had to lose it, he would rather lose himself."

A one-mile stretch of Canada and US border

appearances can be deceiving

How.

How to stop time: kiss.

How to travel in time: read.

How to escape time: music.

How to feel time: write.

How to release time: breathe.

~ Matt Haig ~

    

          

            

oh, for goodness sake...

if we're going to smile, how about trying it like this!

I smile like a flower not only with my lips

but with my whole being.

Rumi

note to self: the

'act as if', or

'fake it til you become it'

approach could come in handy here

There's a rhythm under the song...

And it beats for the old and the young

And it pounds in the back of the sun

It's the sound of one drummer, one drum

There's a rhythm, it's subtle yet strong

And it moves all the wallflowers on

To the dance floor that holds everyone

To the sound of one drummer, one drum

Dance, for the time marches on

Off to a war that can never be won

To the heartbeat of drums

There's a rhythm, not cruel or kind

Though you feel that it's left you behind

Is it justice or you, that is blind

When you don't see it coming, how come?

There's a rhythm under the song

And it beats for the old and the young

And it pounds in the back of the sun

It's the sound of one drummer, one drum

~Ron Sexsmith

☀

hai.

Lost



Stand still.
The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost.
Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes.
Listen.
It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost.
Stand still.
The forest knows
Where you are.
You must let it find you.


This poem is David Wagoner's rendering into modern English the answer a Northwest Native American elder would give to a young girl or boy who asked the question,

"What do I do when I am lost in the forest?"

David Whyte relates further... "In other words,

'What do I do when I've lost my creative fire?'

which is really

'What do l do when I forget who I am?'

At the very core of creativity there seems to be an admonition that says,

'Your own way is essential.'

This is true even in a traditional master-student relationship. The word 'expert' seems to be like a fog in which we lose ourselves. We feel our lack before we have done the essential work of

touching our own inner longing.

Creativity has much more to do with giving ourselves over to our deepest longings than it does with giving ourselves over to any kind of strategy.
The great poetic and mythic traditions say that creativity has to do with unburdening, with giving yourself a break, with letting fresh air in through the windows, with allowing yourself to be

lost...

profoundly lost,

deeply lost.

This cannot be taught, it must be lived.

In the beginning,
along with the joy of possibility,
you also have to enter this deep well of grief
connected to what you have missed by
refusing to open in the past."


The Well of Grief
Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief
turning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe
will never know the source
from which we drink
the secret water, cold and clear,
nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown by those who wished for
something else.
~David Whyte 

hai.

(yes)