Maybe that is the purest and most radical kind of religion – simple attention. Present-moment awareness. Instead of a belief system, awareness sees through all beliefs. ~ Joan Tollifson (Painting the Sidewalk with Water)
These pictures were taken along the east side of the Thames River, looking south. The meteorologists are reporting that if this deep freeze continues, this will soon be the coldest month ever recorded in Connecticut. If this is what climate change will be bringing us, I think we will need to invest in some serious fleece lined boots. More snow due tomorrow and still more on the weekend.
Notice the chunk of ice in the water behind this duck. He seems to be doing better than the gulls, but where is the rest of his flock?
Every once in a while, Mr. Logic (Tim) and I will have a brief discussion about poetry. I’m for it, he’s against it, and we agree to disagree. He says it doesn’t make any sense to him. But the other day I was browsing through my Emily Dickinson book and thought perhaps Tim might “get” this one. Read it to him, and wonder of all wonders, he said it made sense to him! I so enjoyed the once-in-a-lifetime moment.
“Faith” is a fine invention For Gentlemen who see! But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency! ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #202)
After this we headed over to Mystic. More pictures soon…
Tim needed an afternoon break from work so we went down to the beach. On our way past Beach Pond he spotted four turtles on a rock! Tim loves turtles. He rushed over to get a better look at them, but they all scrambled off the rock and back into the water. Perhaps they would come back if he retreated.
Eventually one brave soul (above) climbed back up on the rock. In the picture below, to the right of the rock, the head of another turtle can be seen scoping out the situation.
He decided to chance it…
But then his friend suddenly disappeared…
Too much of Proof affronts Belief The Turtle will not try Unless you leave him – then return – And he has hauled away. ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1240)
Queen Moonstone and her sprites live in Water Pearl Palace built in the twisted roots of the giant sycamore tree. During the day they guard this mystical gateway to other worlds, but gather every evening to dance among the great boughs of the tree and along the rippling stream celebrating creativity. Within the many nooks and crannies of the subterranean palace, the sprites leave tokens found during their nightly travels. Visit on a full moon and witness their grand party when they assist all who seek their help. ~ Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making
Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. ~ Emily Brontë (The Complete Poems of Emily Jane Brontë)
People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less. I doubt if you would have believed it all yourself if you hadn’t seen some of it. ~ George MacDonald (The Princess & The Goblin)
We are not just republicans or democrats, liberals or conservatives, moderates or extremists who have trouble finding or defining community. We are part of the great communion that embraces the living, the dead, and all who will come after us. Our ancestors – we share them if we go back far enough – have been rogues and heroes, courageous and cowardly, sung and unsung, hardworking and indolent, cruel and kind, mistaken and visionary. Ancestors are not just our blood kin, but the people whose beliefs, ideas, and creations have shaped us. Whether we know their names or not, they live in us as we will live in those who come after us, whether or not we have biological children. … As part of the preparation for voting – and as incentive to vote – we might do well to contemplate this communion, invoke the wisdom of the ancestors to help us keep faith with the descendants. ~ Elizabeth Cunningham (Tikkun Daily, October 26, 2010)
At times I feel as if I had lived all this before and that I have already written these very words, but I know it was not I: it was another woman, who kept her notebooks so that one day I could use them. I write, she wrote, that memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously. … That’s why my Grandmother Clara wrote in her notebooks, in order to see things in their true dimension and to defy her own poor memory. ~ Isabel Allende (The House of the Spirits)
Our moods do not believe in each other. To-day I am full of thoughts, and can write what I please. I see no reason why I should not have the same thought, the same power of expression, to-morrow. What I write, whilst I write it, seems the most natural thing in the world; but yesterday I saw a dreary vacuity in this direction in which now I see so much; and a month hence, I doubt not, I shall wonder who he was that wrote so many continuous pages. Alas for this infirm faith, this will not strenuous, this vast ebb of a vast flow! I am God in nature; I am a weed by the wall. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Circles)
I am not interested in a spirituality that cannot encompass my humanness. I find little comfort or guidance in traditional dogma or unqualified New Age optimism. Because beneath the small daily trials are harder paradoxes, things the mind cannot reconcile but the heart must hold if we are to live fully: profound tiredness and radical hope; shattered beliefs and relentless faith; the seemingly contradictory longings for personal freedom and a deep commitment to others, for solitude and intimacy, for the ability to simply be with the world and the need to change what we know is not right about how we are living. ~ Oriah Mountain Dreamer (The Invitation)