Jan 31 2011

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

Time for a break from poetry…in order to create some art.

We are discreet sheep; we wait to see how the drove is going, and then go with the drove.

–Mark Twain


Fuzzy 3

I know you have talent.  What sometimes is forgotten is that being practical is a talent.  I have a paucity for that sort of talent in many situations, though it turns out that I’m a pretty darn good cook.  🙂

Let your talent bloom.  You can share it here.  Encourage others to let it bloom inside them as well.

Won’t you share your words or art, your sounds or visions, your thoughts scientific or philosophic, the comedy or tragedy of your days, the stories of doing and making?  And be excellent to one another!

1 comments

    • TMC on January 31, 2011 at 19:37
    • #

    marks the beginning of Imbolc which culminates on Feb.2. The Goddess Brigid the patroness of poetry is honored with poetry readings.

    This one is from David Whyte from Everything is Waiting for You

    ©2003 Many Rivers Press

    Everything is Waiting for You

    Your great mistake is to act the drama

    as if you were alone. As if life

    were a progressive and cunning crime

    with no witness to the tiny hidden

    transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny

    the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,

    even you, at times, have felt the grand array;

    the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding

    out your solo voice You must note

    the way the soap dish enables you,

    or the window latch grants you freedom.

    Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.

    The stairs are your mentor of things

    to come, the doors have always been there

    to frighten you and invite you,

    and the tiny speaker in the phone

    is your dream-ladder to divinity.

    Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into

    the conversation. The kettle is singing

    even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots

    have left their arrogant aloofness and

    seen the good in you at last. All the birds

    and creatures of the world are unutterably

    themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

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