Still, for whatever reason-
Perhaps because the winter is so long
And the sky so black-blue,
Or perhaps because the heart narrows
As often as it opens-
I am grateful
That red bird comes all winter
Firing up the landscape
As nothing else can do.
Red Bird – Mary Oliver
Rarely a day goes by without a vibrant colour abiding somewhere on my person in the form of a scarf or some colourful mala beads wrapped around the wrists. And now as winter slowly but surely feels it’s way into our days, a healthy sprinkling of colour in the form of clothing, plants, in-season produce, art and the like may be just what the Doctor, Mother Nature, ordered!
When you even just glimpse at some of the beautiful examples (above) of colour in the natural and man/woman created world, you may find that there’s something stimulating in what you see. A kind of energy of some sort. In yoga, one may bring their attention to and indeed investigate the various chakras in the body and the colours of these energy places. Here’s an article with a very basic, but still complete in it’s own way, description of the chakras.
And now to sleep – perchance to dream, hopefully, in Technicolor.
I discovered the beauty of the late poet and spiritualist, John O’Donohue’s work via Tara Brach’s podcasts, which is kind of ironic considering I am Irish an’ all. I like to think that I became aware of him just at the right time, just when I needed to.
He is such a beautiful person to listen to. You hear the goodness and the kindness of his thoughts, words and actions through his voice. So soothing and comforting.
On Being with Krista Tippett is a really special site and contains such an eclectic mix of podcasts, articles and blogs in the realm of spirituality, ethics and ideas.
Here is her interview with John O’Donohue,which took place a few months before his sudden passing.
I will advise any friend who will listen long enough to check out Tara Brach, because for me, she has been a huge influence and guidance on my coming-home to myself, the me who was there all along but got shoved aside for quite a while. The me who wants to live and love and belong in the World.
So here is just one article of Tara Brach’s Imperfection Is Not a Problem | Tara Brach, to give you an idea of her teachings, but I really recommend you download her podcasts and/or audiobooks to really give yourself the gift of the time to listen to this wonderful woman’s insights. I love her sense of humour and the tools she uses to really open up an idea in the dharma talks.
It’s a gift to yourself for sure and in turn, no doubt, a gift to the World.
So, I’m on Tinder. Who flippin’ isn’t by the looks of things?! Jaypers.
Anywho, it’s a peculiar space. It lies somewhere between your heart, your head and your funny bone.
Here are some musings I got out of my, well, muse.
The Irretrievable Regret*
That irretrievable regret?.. stemming from just a second of mindful neglect…
To my left and she-lies on a cloak of mystery bedecked.
And to this end who can say the whys or the wherefores of errors such as these
or where she may even be
Or was she ever to be anything more than a whole second of living memory released?
Hear the familiar tune return again
as mindlessness trickles back to the deck
and the index finger poised to rehash regret regret regret.
*Inspired by the proffering of a title from a Tinder match named John.
You looked and you liked and divulged the sight of a stranger to your minds eye
and gave a moments attention to a moments perambulation of time.
All these pictures and words then travailed to the inner/outer world of that ever falling tide
That takes all good with bad in one fell swoop
and castigates the fallen to the “still learning how to forget” curve
and rises to greet the dawn of the “maybe you?”
And ever still the moon never forgets its promise to never not shine.
So Sublime. All in it’s own sweet time.
That old sweet shop variety of choosing who wins and who loses
And the in-between choice of maybe s/he’ll do
Skewed with the misconstrued thought of maybe they will choose you too-
All adds up to a soured mood and heady thoughts flavoured with the bitter truth
That this person you don’t really see can never see the ALL of you.
After all, we’ll take the goods if given like a dangling fruit.
And none of it is wholly fully bad or ever full of good
But Just waiting to be tasted by the whole of you.
So be tender of foot when you get what’s tendered out to you.
The simplest swipe..
Can Turn a simple direction into a fatal knife-
A heart shaped box or a weighted cross-
An axis or access to the within and without of these very shapes we’d shiftily make
And all concealing the self; sitting pretty on a dusty shelf.
Here/There/Been/Done with and maybe could do with-out.
This is the tale you may tell yourself when you’re all tinder-ed out.
You looked like you would of have expected sunbeams and hugs and love and babies.
You would of have thought me to be thoughtful and kind….most of the time.
I’d be thinking you really should know better!
What makes you think I look like I could be and give all that, being what I am….
Similar to you….22? Right?
Okay, so I lied but I never set this up to imply I was perfect or just made-for-you.
So I’m going to have to swipe that pretty smile right…and by right I mean left…off your face
And because you’ll never even know all of this…Grace…
this is goodbye.
So, coming back to Jon Hopkins again with this one! But it’s this guy King Creosote who’s voice and lyrics are what is captivating me this time around. No doubt Jon Hopkins is enveloping the sound with his magic ways but THE VOICE! What a voice! That beautiful tone and the Scottish accented singing! Ah here, sure what’s not to love? So here it is: Bats in The Attic.
This beautiful piece of music by Jon Hopins makes me feel all shades of things. The wonder of music is it’s intrinsic connection to us; it’s synching to the deeper infrastructure that words alone cannot reach. Enjoy!
I never knew. Had you but said it!
I was too long climbing up the wrong hills to nowhere to have ever noticed.
And what’s funny is that the timing was perfect.
Had I been where you were and you standing amongst the crowd, holding on to me.
For dear life…for dear life…for dear life.
It’s now apparent there was a glitch in the system.
A lightbulb amiss-
A frequency overload of bullshit
Clouding my judgement from the purest rain that could have washed all these things away.
And your name would be ringing in my ears for years now.
And my throat would be creating new sounds and ways with which to say it over and over again.
There is no bliss to be extracted from the fruit of this.
No sailing into paradise with our hands located in each others wrist.
Or even a hope of looking back into those eyes that used to see me so clearly.
So then, clutching at straws and all hawk eyes till dawn is what I’ll be.
Waiting for the day….to say all of this…to you.