“To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.” ~ Osho

We need suffering in order to see the path. The origin of suffering, the cessation of suffering, and the path leading to the cessation of suffering are all found in the heart of suffering. If we are afraid to touch our suffering, we will not be able to realize the path of peace, joy , and liberation. Don’t run away. Touch your suffering and embrace it. Make peace with it. The Buddha said, “The moment you know how your suffering came to be, you are already on the path of release from it.” If you know what has come to be and how it has come to be, you are already on the way to emancipation…

~ Thích Nhất Hạnh

May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing it and no holding back,
the way it is with children.

Then in these swelling and ebbing currents,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels
into the open sea.

Rainer Maria Rilke

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Finelady.jpg

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross

To see a fine lady upon a white horse.

Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes.

She will make music wherever she goes.

It takes courage to be who you are, to be completely authentic, when this is not reflected back to you by those around you. And it is sometimes difficult to recognize what is truly authentic in ourselves. But this is the way to freedom. Those who have the ability to encourage and guide others in this undertaking are to be treasured.

Past the Cusp of Summer

 August 2006

 Just past the cusp of summer,

The sunlight slices at a wider angle

Through the soft cushion of cool air.

It is still warm to the skin.

The daisies are saying goodbye dryly.

The last peony is browning and limp.

A fresh dampness arises from the grass.

It mixes with the smell of the sun-drenched wood of the windowsill.

A small plane drones.

There’s an unmistakable slowing down.

When I take time to notice,

I will see flies

Bumbling slowly,

Easily crushed by a hand.

I know from watching, listening, smelling,

As year spirals upon year,

That Summer is folding in upon herself,

Taking her warm wings south,

The iridescent ones,

The ones that formed a portal to

All the faerie kingdom only on Midsummer Night.

— Pamela Ann McDowell Saylor

I said what about my eyes

God said Keep them on the road.

I said what about my passion

God said Keep it burning.

I said what about my heart

God said Tell me what you hold inside it

I said pain and sorrow

He said… stay with it.

The wound is the place where the Light enters you.

–Rumi