Last night the Longest Night
Hunkered down into the comforting folds
Of darkness, holding light at bay
For just a few more seconds of incubation.
Today she commences
The season of sloughing
When her dark cocoon opens to light
Second by second until Daylight
Dazzles with sparks of the divine
Drawing her into soothing warmth
And the blast of the refiner’s fire.
© Rita H. Kowats 12-22-16
Photo Credit: Daniel Tran Cathedral of Light Sydney’s festival, Vivid Sydney
Lifelines, once malleable networks of grace
Have become static tendrils stretched
In a circuitous highway to nowhere
No more kicks on route 66.
Lifelines freeze up without
Time, solitude and silence
To stoke the fire of grace
Waiting to thaw
The once intimate connections
Gone rigid with neglect.
Do you hear their call?
© Rita H Kowats 12-19-16
I woke up at 2:00 a.m. with the Spirit knocking on the door of my unconscious. I am unaware of having been dreaming, but a clear and precise message boomed out: “I can see water swimming in a cave.”
Here is how I have worked with it:
Our bodies make their first journey out
Of the cave with reluctance to leave
The safe solitude of buoyant waters
Life moves on and away
From the startling solitude of caves
Yet our souls yearn to return
Not to be carried aloft by gentle waters
But to dive deep
With the first drop.
© Rita H Kowats 12-14-16
photo credit: BlakeLewisPhotography <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7838598@N06/27327710701″>Ruby Falls</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a>
One in our reading community suggested this article…fascinating connection!
My boy is huuuuge and as sweet as can be. This morning he taught me for the hundredth time to be brave and patient and take myself less seriously.
Sherlock sits somnolently in the spotlight
Of brilliant morning sun-
Until an orange fur fluff catches his eye
And he leaps head over heals to bring it down.
Such a vigilant sleuth, in sooth.
When last did I leap head over heels?
I will wait for a spiritbeam to burst
Through this hungry chink in my soul
Then spring into action like a gangly tween
Desperately tumbling toward her one true BFF.
Such a rollercoaster, this thing we call the Spiritual Path.
© Rita h kowats November 25, 2016
I dedicate this post to a friend whose death is close. He has chosen to die at this time rather than wait. Being kept alive by extraordinary means at an advanced age seems counterproductive to him when he could be dancing with the dead!
Enjoy this extraordinary film of the life cycle of nature in Alaska, remembering that we are nature. Today is a day to celebrate the cycle.
Good morning, everyone! Here’s a little gift to begin your day or continue on your way.
Six O’Clock Dawn: Homer Meets Alice Walker
Rosy-fingered dawn sashays down the horizon-catwalk
Flinging flamingo pink boa over the shoulder
Of her amethyst-studded tangerine-on-azure array.
One blink of her lash-laden eyes launches
Electric sparks of yellow, red and indigo
That saturate color-starved clouds waiting on the catwalk sidelines.
“Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me.”
Bring her on!
Rita H Kowats 9-10-16
I think that we protect ourselves by creating safe images of God to stand in the place of a fearful unknown. Some concepts of “god” have kept us safe, but in doing so they have deprived us of the profound reality that sustains us.
Some very brave physicists like David Bohm, have opened up for us a new way of seeing God- without ever mentioning God. They sound very much like long familiar mystics. My offering in this post is a series of quotations from David Bohm and a few mystics. I leave it to you to draw your own conclusions about who/what “God” is and the implications your concept has for how we interact with one another in this universe.
Science Mulls It Over
Artist: Fred Croydon
Cousin to the crow, the raven is a messenger bird, as mythologized by the Haida People of the Pacific Northwest United States. It symbolizes creativity and knowledge and has mystical attributes.
July 22, 2016
I sit on a covered deck
Listening to the steady flow of raindrops
Kept company by a lone leering crow
Holding vigil on a nearby lawn chair.
Life appears clean and simple
In the afterglow of convention phosphorescence
Fear falling like snow snared in a globe.
Saturated with rain now
The crow still sits in vigil
While I flap spiritual wings
Seeking to shake off the slick aura of hate
That rains down on me.
The crow fixes me with an intent stare
As if to say “Move. Now.”
Inertia is a choice.
© rita h kowats