Summer

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I have stepped into a Saharan dream:
Heat striking at my back,
Everything wavy and gold and shimmering.
I yearn for sight of a turning leaf,
A drop of cool rain,
The kiss of a northern breeze.

 
 
— ©2015 Elizabeth May Bangard

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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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