On a spiritual walk…

The Purple of Emperors

Spiritual seekers have always walked. There are pilgrimages to Canterbury, to Mecca, to Jerusalem. There are pilgrimages around Kailas, the sacred Tibetan mountain. Aborigines go on Walkabout. Native Americans set out on Vision Quests. There is something in walking that tunes us to a higher key. Each footfall moves us up a step. We do not come home the same as we set out.

– Julia Cameron, Finding Water, 2006IMG_1394

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Run And Be Wild

 

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I need to run
And be wild.
Untamed and free.

Flying across skies,
And catching clouds.
Splashing through the rain.

Leaping over waterfalls.
And bounding over hills.
Climbing across white dunes.

Playing to tribal beats
And dancing to a madness.
Listening to a simple silence.

Being of the earth,
And holding on to the heart.
Trekking, endlessly trekking.

I need to run
And be wild.
Untamed and free.

 
– ©2015 Elizabeth May Bangard
 

The Peace of Wild Things

By Wendell Berry
 
 
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
 

There is a tide…

The Purple of Emperors

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

– William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

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There is a fire in my lashes…

The Purple of Emperors

I don’t want to be demure or respectable.
I was that way, asleep, for years.
That way, you forget too many important things.
How the little stones, even if you can’t hear them, are singing.
How the river can’t wait to get to the ocean and the sky, it’s been there before.
What traveling is that!
It is a joy to imagine such distances.
I could skip sleep for the next hundred years.
There is a fire in the lashes of my eyes.
It doesn’t matter where I am, it could be a small room.
The glimmer of gold Bhme saw on the kitchen pot was missed by everyone else in the house.

Maybe the fire in my lashes is a reflection of that.
Why do I have so many thoughts, they are driving me crazy.
Why am I always going anywhere, instead of somewhere?
Listen to me or not…

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Books 

Sometimes you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book. And then there are books…which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal. 

— John Green, The Fault In Our Stars

Wings of Words

I travel through time
On wings of words.

Far lands and foreign
Ways, all my own.

Loves created,
Loves forgotten.

Seeking treasures,
Unknown secrets.

Spires of castles,
Mountains of sand.

Burgeoning heroes
Vindictive villains.

Fallen, broken,
Until a final stand.

Wine-dark seas,
Cloud cities.

Forbidden worlds,
And lost horizons.

On and on forever on,
I fly on wings of words.
 
 
– ©2015 Elizabeth May Bangard
 

The Journey

By Mary Oliver
 
 
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.