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#4880 - Monday, April 1, 2013 - Editor: Gloria Lee

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  • Gloria Lee
    #4880 - Monday, April 1, 2013 - Editor: Gloria Lee The Nonduality Highlights http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NDhighlights/ Yasar Koç Photography Such Singing in
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 2, 2013

      #4880 - Monday, April 1, 2013 - Editor: Gloria Lee
      Yasar Koç Photography

      Such Singing in the Wild Branches 
      It was spring
      and finally I heard him
      among the first leaves—
      then I saw him clutching the limb
      in an island of shade
      with his red-brown feathers
      all trim and neat for the new year.
      First, I stood still
      and thought of nothing.
      Then I began to listen.
      Then I was filled with gladness—
      and that's when it happened,
      when I seemed to float,
      to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
      and I began to understand
      what the bird was saying,
      and the sands in the glass
      for a pure white moment
      while gravity sprinkled upward
      like rain, rising,
      and in fact
      it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
      it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed
      not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
      and also the trees around them,
      as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
      in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them
      were singing.
      And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
      so was I.
      Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last
      for more than a few moments.
      It's one of those magical places wise people
      like to talk about.
      One of the things they say about it, that is true,
      is that, once you've been there,
      you're there forever.
      Listen, everyone has a chance.
      Is it spring, is it morning?
      Are there trees near you,
      and does your own soul need comforting?
      Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
      may already be drifting away.
      ~Mary Oliver,
      "Such Singing in the Wild Branches"
      Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays,
      Beacon Press, Boston, 2003

      Yasar Koç Photography
      Some Questions You Might Ask
      Is the soul solid, like iron?
      Or is it tender and breakable, like
      the wings of a moth in the beak of an owl?
      Who has it, and who doesn't?
      I keep looking around me.
      The face of the moose is as sad
      as the face of Jesus.
      The swan opens her white wings slowly.
      In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
      One question leads to another.
      Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
      Like the eye of a hummingbird?
      Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
      Why should I have it, and not the anteater
      who loves her children?
      Why should I have it, and not the camel?
      Come to think of it, what about maple trees?
      What about the blue iris?
      What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
      What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
      What about the grass?
      ~Mary Oliver,
      "Some Questions You Might Ask"
      House of Light, Beacon Press, Boston (1990)

      Yasar Koç Photography
      Another morning and I wake with thirst
      for the goodness I do not have. I walk
      out to the pond and all the way God has
      given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
      I was never a quick scholar but sulked
      and hunched over my books past the hour
      and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
      a little more time. Love for the earth
      and love for you are having such a long
      conversation in my heart. Who knows what
      will finally happen or where I will be sent,
      yet already I have given a great many things
      away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
      except the prayers which, with this thirst,
      I am slowly learning.
      ~Mary Oliver
      "Thirst", Beacon Press, Boston, 2006
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