The power of beauty

I believe in the power of beauty and then I don't talk about handsome people although there was a time that I fell for that magic as well, no the power of beauty of art like dancing, music, painting and poetry and of course nature. 
The last one and a half year I have been dealing with challenge after challenge. You could argue that   it is part of normal live but the hardest thing is when you don't have any clue as how to deal with some things. In some cases you have to choose options that are the least worst instead of good.
Talking about it helps but the main thing what gets me through is a high dose of trees, flowers, poetry and music. They are miracle workers to me. Today I give myself the following potion of incredible beauty. I am very great full for these treasures.


The Quiet Power

I walked backwards, against time
and that’s where I caught the moon,
singing at me.

I steeped downwards, into my seat
and that’s where I caught freedom,
waiting for me, like a lilac.

I ended thought, and I ended story.

I stopped designing, and arguing, and
sculpting a happy life.

I didn’t die. I didn’t turn to dust.

Instead I chopped vegetables,
and made a calm lake in me
where the water was clear and sourced and still.

And when the ones I loved came to it,
I had something to give them, and
it offered them a soft road out of pain.

I became beloved.

And I came to know that this was it.
The quiet power.
I could give something mighty, lasting,
that stopped the wheel of chaos,

by tending to the river inside,
keeping the water rich and deep,
keeping a bench for you to visit.

Tara Sophia More

Sunrise and sunset

A beautiful poem to enjoy

 

Sunrise and Sunset
I’ll tell you how the sun rose,
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
That must have been the sun!”
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
 Emily Dickinson

Youth by Samuel Ullman

Youth
 Samuel Ullman

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter
 of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of
 the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions;
 it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

 

 Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over
 timidity of the appetite, for adventure over the love of ease.
 This often exists in a man of sixty more than a body of twenty.
 Nobody grows old merely by a number of years.
 We grow old by deserting our ideals.

 

 Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm
 wrinkles the soul.  Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the
 heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

 

Whether sixty or sixteen, there is in every human being's
 heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing child-like appetite of
 what's next, and the joy of the game of living.  In the center
 of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station; so long
 as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and
 power from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.

 

When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with
snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you are grown
old, even at twenty, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch the
waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at eighty

 

Awaken by Ralph S. Marston, Jr

Beauty to touch the soul, raise the spirits, cushion the mind, release the butterflies in the field of hopes and dreams. Thank you for this present I gently bumped into today :)

Lake Tekapo

Awaken
by Ralph S. Marston, Jr.

In your life
A new day is dawning
Awaken and touch the beauty

Wherever you've come from
Whatever you've been
New possibilities beckon
Right here and now
Awaken and make them real  

 

There was a time when you held in your heart
The most magnificent of dreams
A time when life seemed to carry
Endless promises and possibilities  

 

Those dreams are still with you
Awaken and bring them to life  

 

What you long for
Is longing for you
What you dream of
Is what you are meant to create  

 

The doubts you have exist only in your mind
The anxieties that seem so burdensome are of your own making
Now is the moment to awaken,
and allow those doubts to melt away  

 

Awaken, and dive deeply into the beauty of this moment
Allow your spirit to fully experience the richness of it all

 

Awaken
Allow peace to fill you completely
Let it touch your deepest longings
Let it bring those longings to life
Your most treasured possibilities are real,
If you will simply let them live through you

 

Awaken to this moment, and life begins anew
Reach inside, and allow
your most treasured
dreams to awaken with you
Into a bright and shining new day

 

Remind yourself again and again
Of how beautiful life can be
Remind yourself again and again
That you can make it so  

 

Awaken
Step boldly and lovingly forward
Into this day  

 

You've already come
So very far  You're stronger, more experienced
and more determined than ever
To fulfill those longings
That tell you who you are  

 

Now is your moment to create real meaning
Now is your moment to awaken
And to truly and fully live

For when the light goes out

 



One day the light goes out, one day flowers will loose their petals. There is a rhythm to all that lives. There is birth, there is dead. Everything is here only temporarily. While we are here we have to make the best of it and make sure to smell the flowers.
We have been helping a client at work collecting songs and poetry for the day people will say goodbye to her. I showed her the one I would very much like to be read which I posted. I would also love music of Andrea Bocelli. Here in NZ I experienced that people had celebrations of life to celebrate the good times they had. I would love that with flowers and laughter and music.

 Our client is not ready to go yet. Me neither.

It is a part of life though what is going to happen. I hope not for long as I still have so many tasks to fulfil in this life and so many things I would like to do. But we don't get to choose that day so I rather like the idea of people listening to your favourite song or poem and be a little prepared what about you?

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.      

quote of the week

Photo D. Blom
 

If you listen,
Not to pages or preachers
But to the smallest flower
Growing from the crack
In your heart,
You will hear a great song
Moving across a wide ocean
Whose water is the music
Connecting all the islands
Of the universe together,
And touching all
You will feel it
Touching you
Around you
Embracing you
With light

It is in that light
that everything lives
and will always be alive.
John Squadra

The moment by Margaret Atwood

 

THE MOMENT

By Margaret Atwood

The moment when, after many years

of hard work and a long voyage

you stand in the centre of your room,

house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,

knowing at last how you got there,

and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose

their soft arms from around you,

the birds take back their language,

the cliffs fissure and collapse,

the air moves back from you like a wave

and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.

You were a visitor, time after time

climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.

We never belonged to you.

You never found us.

It was always the other way round.

A poem by Bill Manhire

The Voyage

All night the water laps
the hedges. I hold you in the middle
of the air
Don't sleep
all night. It is pitch
black, but since
there is a vista, let
your throat be the
the lantern.
Since there is a window, let us
open it.
Let us dress
for a voyage. Let me
go out, with
your voice, to call for you.

Bill Manhire, NZ poet

 

We are responsible for children

Photo Kim Anderson

I had a very busy week. Worked far too much but had some really good moments. I  enjoyed today the laughing of some children. I love kids. I think kids are hard work but nothing gives me more pleasure. They are honest and straight forward, an open book, flexible, keen to learn, innocent and fun loving. I have the experience that they all want to succeed and to be good. When it doesn't seem like that there is usaully a good reason for it.
So when I found this poem I hope you take it in. And think about it, if you change the life of a child by giving them your real attention, you not only help them you help their future children and all surrounding people. Children are wiser than you think. . They should be valued a lot more than they are at the moment. That doesn't mean giving in to them. No they want you to set limits to give them clarity.  No it means to respect them, care about them and listen to them and they wil respect you. After all we are responsible for children!

Photo Kim Anderson

We are responsible for children

By Ina Hughus

We are responsible for children
Who put chocolate fingers everywhere,
Who like to be tickled,
Who stomp in puddles and ruin their pants,
Who sneak popsicles before supper,
Who erase holes in math workbooks,
Who can never find their shoes.

But we are also responsible for those
Who stare at photographers from behind broken windows,
Who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,
Who never "counted potatoes,"
Who are born in places where we wouldn't be caught dead,
Who never go to the circus,
Who live in an x-rated world.

We are also responsible for children
Who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
Who sleep with the dog and bury goldfish,
Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money,
Who cover themselves with Band-Aids and sing off key,
Who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,
Who slurp their soup.

But we are also responsible for those
Who never get dessert,
Who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
Who watch their parents watch them suffer,
Who can't find any bread to steal,
Who don't have any rooms to clean up,
Whose pictures won't be on anybody's dresser,
Whose monsters are real.

We are also responsible for children
Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
Who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
Who like ghost stories,
Who shove dirty clothes under the bed and never rinse the tub,
Who get visits from the tooth fairy,
Who don't like tob e kissed in front of the carpool,
Who squirm in church and scream in the phone,
Whose tears we sometimes laugh at and
Whose smiles can make us cry.

We are responsible for those
Whose nightmares come in the daytime,
Who will eat anything,
Who have never seen a dentist,
Who aren't spoiled by anybody,
Who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
Who live and move, but have no being.

We are responsible for children
Who want to be carried and for those who must,
For those we never give up on
And for those who don't get a second chance,
For those we smother...

And for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.

I was bad this week but I will visit you all in the coming days. Arohanui marja

The Two Bears

picture from here

Two Bears
By Hafiz

Once

After a hard day's forage

Two bears sat together in silence

On a beautiful vista

Watching the sun go down

And feeling deeply grateful

For life.

Though, after a while

A thought-provoking conversation began

Which turned to the topic of

Fame.

The one bear said,

"Did you hear about Rustam?

He has become famous

And travels from city to city

In a golden cage;

He performs to hundreds of people

Who laugh and applaud

His carnival

Stunts."

The other bear thought for

A few seconds

Then started

Weeping.

Hafiz

Phenominal woman

When I was young it was good to be a woman. I loved to dress up to parade at night before the crowd in the pub. Being very shy I wasn't aware of anybody interested though. I wish I had the confidence I have now. As the night progressed and I got warmed up to the music and I lost myself in dance. When I danced I felt like a woman.

When I was older I married and got my first child. Just after she was born I had to walk a couple of times to the cot just to believe there was a little human being I brought forwards. From than on I lived for my children and turned into a lion who protects her young. I played with them, laughed with them, worried about them, thaught them a lesson. I was happy to be a woman.

When I was older I lost a bit of it. I dance when nobody is there as I feel like an elephant dancing the swanlake. My kids don't want my care and company anymore. I mourn a little about this loss but I am more a woman than ever before, in every way I am still very emotional and sensitive. This goes with a sprinkle of wisdom settled in my first wrinkles. There is a bucket full of confidence. There is some left overs from my protective and motherly instincts and the matriarch is stil on the background. There still lingers a shadow from a femme fatale, no not really I am just a phenominal woman and I love this poem:

Phenominal woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

Phenomenal Woman

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

 

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them

They say they still can't see.

I say,

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Maya Angelou

The Silk Worm

The silk Worm

By Rumi

 I stood before a silk worm one day.
And that night my heart said to me,

"I can do things like that.
I can spin skies,

I can be woven into love that brings warmth to people;

I can be soft against a crying face,

I can be wings that lift,
And I can travel with my thousand feet throughout the earth,
my sacks filled with the sacred".

And I replied to my heart,
"Dear can you really do all these things?"

And it just nodded "yes".

So we began and will never cease .

The Guest House

I love this poem I came along

Guest house in NZ

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

Poem of the day

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn!
Look to this Day!
For it is Life, the very Life of Life.
In its brief course lie all the
Verities and Realities of your Existence.
The Bliss of Growth,
The Glory of Action,
The Splendor of Beauty;
For Yesterday is but a Dream,
And To-morrow is only a Vision;
But To-day well lived makes
Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,
And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.
Look well therefore to this Day!
Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

By Kalidasa

A New Year

Ngā mihi o te Tau Hou ki a koutou katoa

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year

I want to open this year with a favourite poetry video I found on You Tube, of my beloved country



2010 is going to be a big challenge for me. A few different challenges actually,which will take up time and energy. 2010 will be a time of oppertunities and change and it makes me feel excited and fearful at the same time. To move forwards you will have to invest.  I will also be even less online but writing the occasional poem and making pictures is relaxation for me, so  it won't dissappear. I've tried that once to cut it out but my heart is in there so it will stay a part of my life. I am ready however to achieve what I planned to achieve,take on the challenges. From time to time I know I will fall down, but I am prepared to stand up again and go into the direction to achieve my goals with a smile. I hope you do too.

Marja

Spark of Spring

Last weekend we went to the park to enjoy the Spring. Above an impression of the beauty we experienced.
I enjoy getting older because eventhough there are still obstacles which put me down from time to time, I feel I am not alone anymore.  People or occasions seem to present themselves,  providing support and answers as by coincedence or synchronisity.

When you are young you think happiness is something to search for outside yourself. When you get older you start to realise that it is found inside yourself. You become more and more the person you are in essence. It's like coming home. There is no energy in pretending anymore and you start to become aware of people and beauty around you.

The following poem, I came across, gave me a spark of recognition and I loved it.

Love after love

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

By Derek Walcott

Nothing to fear

I couldn't find the author of the following poem So if anybody knows please pass it on to me

Nothing to fear
Author unknown

There's nothing to fear -

you're as good as the best,
As strong as the mightiest, too.

You can win in every battle or test;
For there's no one just like you.

There's only one you in the world today;
So nobody else, you see,

Can do your work in as fine a way:
You're the only you there'll be!

So face the world, and all life is yours
To conquer and love and live:

And you'll find the happiness that endures
In just the measure you give;

There's nothing too good for you to possess,
Nor heights where you cannot go:

Your power is more than belief or guess -
It is something you have to know.

There is nothing to fear -

you can and you will.

For you are the invincible you.

Set your foot on the highest hill -
There's nothing you cannot do

A Zen story; Destiny During a momentous battle, a Japanese general decided to attack even though his army was greatly outnumbered. He was confident they would win, but his men were filled with doubt. On the way to the battle, they stopped at a religious shrine. After praying with the men, the general took out a coin and said, "I shall now toss this coin. If it is heads, we shall win. If tails, we shall lose. Destiny will now reveal itself."He threw the coin into the air and all watched intently as it landed. It was heads. The soldiers were so overjoyed and filled with confidence that they vigorously attacked the enemy and were victorious. After the battle, a lieutenant remarked to the general, "No one can change destiny.""Quite right," the general replied as he showed the lieutenant the coin, which had heads on both sides.

A Maori Poem

These beautiful Maori children posed for me in front of the Art Centre last summer

My Law By Tieme Ranapiri
Translated by Kere Graham

The sun may be clouded - yet ever the sun ,
Will sweep on it's course 'til the cycle is run.
And when into chaos the system is hurled ,
Again shall the builder reshape a new world.

Your path may be clouded , uncertain your goal ;
Move on - for your orbit is fixed to your soul ,
And though it may lead into darkness of night ,
The torch of the builder shall give it new light.

You were , you will be - know this while you are ;
Your spirit has travelled both long and afar.
It came from the source , to the source it returns -
The spark which was lighted eternally burns.

It slept in a jewel , it leapt in a wave ,
It roamed in the forest , it rose from the grave ,
It took on strange garbs for long eons of years ,
And now in the soul of yourself it appears.

From body to body your spirit speeds on -
It seeks a new form when the old one has gone.
And the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought
On the loom of the mind from the fabric of thought.

As dew is drawn upwards , in rain to descend ,
Your thoughts drift away and in destiny blend.
You cannot escape them , for petty or great ,
Or evil or noble , they fashion your fate.

Somewhere on some planet , sometime and somehow
Your life will reflect your thoughts of your now.
My law is unerring , no blood can atone -
The structure you built you will live in - alone.

From cycle to cycle through time and through space ,
your lives with your longings will ever keep pace.
And all that you ask for , and all you desire ,
Must come at your bidding , as flame out of fire.

Once list' to that voice and all tumult is done -
Your life is the life of the infinite one.
In the hurrying race , you are conscious of pause ,
With love for the purpose , and love for the cause.

You are your own devil , you are your own god ,
You fashioned the paths your footsteps have trod.
And no one can save you from error or sin ,
Until you have hark'd to the spirit within.

by Tieme Ranapiri

Treasure to share

One of my blogging friends is Missy. By that name I got to know her but she has many names. Missy is the one who found my blog about 2 years ago while I was just a beginner and wasn't even aware I could communicate with other bloggers. I always loved her poetry. For a while I missed her because she has been doing a lot of work on Helium but she is blogging again at

Poetic Ponderings

Dear Missy,

I ask the stars to shine on you because in writing you transcend The stars will than soon realise that you are one of them my friend

I must say Missy doesn't only transcend in writing but also in kindness. That's probably her secret. It shines through. Underneath you find one of her great poems wonderful presented by a fan of hers. The poem "What is the color of my skin" goes of course in my treasure box

Treasure to share

One of the things I use my blog for is for collecting treasures, which can be stories, movies, poetry or quotes. Posts I can go back to, to inspire me or just to enjoy. Anything because of their beauty or wisdom. The following poem really touches me and speaks to me and I am delighted to share it with you.

I found it on Dick Jones' Patteran pages. A blog I recently discovered. I straight away loved his writing style and now I am a fan of his poetry.

Mutatis Mutandis By Dick Jones

There is an understanding that, if the stars are yellow and the moon is wrapped in a milky caul, then dreams will pass through the muslin veil that hangs between this waking world and the world beyond. At such times the longed-for wings unfurl, the water changes into wine and, whichever way you turn, your lover will be coming through the door.

Next week I will share with you a great poem, which I want for my treasure box as well. It is from a beloved friend and poet. Watch this space, Marja