Non Believer’s Miracle

You say you never step foot in a temple or church

Yet isn’t that a shell you are holding listening for the sea?

Isn’t it a temple you place hand to ear to heart?

And is the smile of recognition of the

Hollow sound of coral shell shining white

Not a miracle?

And when you watch the waves turn and pound back in

Noticing your heart swelling and breath deepening

This which has resonance within you

What do you call it?

ame

So Sweet

o sweet the mother's breath 
on the newborn baby 
held close to her breast

So wondrous the dream of life 
unfolding from this moment 
in myriad mysterious ways

So complete the life revealed 
in this moment of such
sweet connection with eternity

So perfect the divine being
locking eyes with sweet
unconditional love flowing

So humbly honor the feminine 
birthing nurturing power 
universally breathing on us all


Peter Stickney

Poetry: So Much Happiness

The Six Golden Keys

Practice, practice, practice.

There is a Chi Field

the Inner Smile

Trust

Service

Diligent Practice

Haola, haola, haola.

Following mind's intention to achieve heart's desire,

the Essence comes 

with practice, 

practice, 

practice.

All is well.

So be it.

So it is.

Haola,

Denise M

Hun Yuan Ling Tong, Becoming the Bell

Hun Yuan Ling Tong, becoming the bell

We can hear it
peeling forth its clear song
lifting up out of the crystalline mist
Hun ... Yuan ... Ling ... Tong

A bell, reflecting 
the brilliance of the light of its song, 
its substance, its source.
Clear, strong vibrations
penetrating all frequencies.
calling forth integration
formless, flowing, form,
each surrendering into sweet sounds.

Hun, everything and nothing
the spacious potential
in which the bell hangs.

Yuan, the loop at the top of the bell
enabling truth 
to sing 
freely 
the love song 
between the formless and the form

Ling, the movement of the clapper
swinging in response to the loveliness of life
in the pure creation, 
energy expressing

Tong, the vibrations of tone,
the reunion of clapper and bell
opening of sound 
bringing forth potential 
into notes of truth.

Hun Yuan Ling Tong
Calling forth the infinite potential as the song of our being


June 3, 2011

GUMA, (my grandmother name)Judy Tretheway
Haola (all is well, so be it!) Haola

Poetry Allow

ALLOW

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt,

containing a tornado. 

Dam a stream, and it will create a new channel. 

Resist and the tide will sweep you off your feet.

Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground.

The only safety lies in letting it all in –

the wild with the weak: fear, fantasies, failures and success.

When loss rips off the doors of the heart, or sadness veils your

vision with despair, practice

becomes simply bearing the truth.

In the choice to let go of your known way of being, the whole

world is revealed to your new eyes.

            --Danna Faulds

                              submitted by Gina Thompson

Poetry: So Much Happiness

~ So Much Happiness ~

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness. 
With sadness there is something to rub against, 
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth. 
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up, 
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change. 

But happiness floats. 
It doesn't need you to hold it down. 
It doesn't need anything. 
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing, 
and disappears when it wants to. 
You are happy either way. 
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house 
and now live over a quarry of dust and noise 
cannot make you unhappy. 
Everything has a life of its own, 
it too could wake up filled with possibilities 
of coffee cake and ripe peaches, 
and love even the floor which needs to be swept, 
the soiled linens and scratched records... 

Since there is no place large enough 
to contain so much happiness, 
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you 
into everything you touch. You are not responsible. 
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit 
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it, 
and in that way, be known.

By Naomi Shihab Nye
It 

Submitted by Gina Thompson

George Elliot on Regeneration

“Deep, unspeakable suffering may well be called a baptism, a regeneration, an initiation through the passing over the threshold of pain and grief and anguish into a new state of being.”