#270: The world is full of magic things 🍃🌸✨
“The universe is an infinite storm of beauty.” - John Muir
Dear reader,
I’ve been recognising and celebrating the alchemy that surrounds me. The way images reveal themselves during the delightful process of sun-fed cyanotypes. The delicious magic of your favorite dish being prepared (or cooking it yourself), and the intoxicating flavours and scents that follow. The act of foraging and pressing flowers, only to open the heavy book months later and memories falling out. The explosive chemistry of my partner’s skin against mine.
As W.B.Yeats so aptly said, “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
As I feast upon the rain tree outside my window bursting with pink blooms on this Monday evening, I hope you feel the magic too. 🔮🌟
Poetry Corner
I read such lovely poems last week…Thrilled to share them with you today.
Breakfast by Merrill Leffler
In memory of William Stafford
This morning I’ll skip the bacon
and eggs and have a poem over light —
two or three if you don’t mind.
I feel my appetite coming on.
And even a stack of flapjacks
which I love — with butter
and boysenberry jam spreading
their fingers of sweetness over
the ragged edges — won’t do me now.
When this hunger’s on, only a poem
will do, one that will surprise my need
like a stranger knocking
at the door (a small knock — at first,
I hardly hear it) to ask directions,
it turns out, to this house. He’s looking
for me. Who are you I ask? Your brother
he says, the one you never knew you had
or the one who you’ve been trying to remember
all your life but somehow couldn’t recall
until now, when he arrives.
And there he is
before me smiling, holding out his arms
— and all this by chance. Do you
believe it?
So serve me up a poem friend,
but just go easy on the tropes,
for instance, synecdoche and such. A simile
or two is fine and metaphor’s all right.
A rhyming quatrain, maybe on the side
would be ok, but not too much —
they sometimes give me gas.
God I love a breakfast such as this.
It gives me a running start and keeps me going
through to dark when I’m as hungry as a horse.
But that’s another poem. Let’s eat.It’s a shiver that climbs the trellis
of the spine, each tingle a bright white
morning glory breaking into blossom
beneath the skin. It can happen anywhere,
anytime, even finding this sleeve of ice
worn by a branch all morning, now fallen
on a bed of snow. You can choose to pause,
pick it up, hold the cold thing in your hand
or not. Few tell us that wonder and awe
are decisions we make daily, hourly,
minute by minute in the tiny offices
of the heart—tilting the head to look up
at every tree turned into a chandelier
by light striking ice in just the right way.A Blessing for the Inward Way by Tracy Shaw
May you learn to dwell
Below the surface of the days
At home with the ebb and flow of
Your own heart’s tides.
May you find the womb space at the center of your Life,
There grow wise in the sacred rhythm
Of filling and emptying,
Emptying and filling.
There, held safe,
May you surrender to the unknown
As completely as the dark moon
Empties herself into the secret embrace of her Beloved, the Sun.
There may you cherish hope of renewal
As tenderly as the crescent moon
Cradles the dark in the curve of her arm,
Enfolding, quickening with life new born.
And may you always open to the flow of love
As voluptuously as the moon at full,
Until filled, overflowing, you pour
Love’s gifts out into the world.
So may you grow ever more intimate
With the inward way, the deepening way,
Where filling is emptying, emptying is filling ~
At one with the mystery, at one.cupbearer by Amrita Skye Blaine
gentle word
touch on the arm
warm mug of tea
aren’t we all
cupbearers for
one another?
deep listening
without comment
allowing words
that ring in the air
to settle inside
sometimes a sage
offers a cup of truth—
a courier
that ignites a turn
saves a life
if the receiving vessel
is empty, open
insideQuestions for the New Year by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Why not believe in magic?
Can I soften? Can I soften some more?
Does truth exist? How are stones alive?
What if I never learn
what happens when we die?
What’s the next nice thing
I can do for someone else?
What’s for breakfast? What’s at stake?
When I dream of my beloveds, is it them?
Where am I in my own way?
How might I be more river, less dam?
Which comes first, forgiveness or the peace?
Which comes last, unknowing or the known?
What is love? What is now? What is home?
What is it in us that knows how to wonder?
What is it in us that knows how to grow?
Who are we really? What is courage?
What’s worth it? What’s asked of me now?
Should I be in this moment a blade or a bloom?
What’s the nature of higher ground?
Can I ask without longing for answers?
Can I feel I am one with it all?
How does life live through me?
Can I be in service to that?
What do I believe I can’t give away?
What if I say nothing and listen?
Will I choose awe today?
A whole lot of lovely links
Loving: Hola y bienvenido (An audio/visual story exploring the sounds of Mexico City’s streets)
Whoa-ing: Max Beckmann Goes For A Walk (This video by Ellen Harvey shows the “walk through life” of the famous German painter using numerous postcards of the places Beckmann visited, arranged chronologically)
Ugly crying: Postal Service for the Dead (an ongoing, collective project where people send letters to anyone in their life who has died)
Learning: You Don’t Need To Document Everything
Braving: #NotT00Late is a project to invite newcomers to the climate movement
Reading: The Disco Jazz Edition + Rewilding in God’s Own Country: The Little Flower Farm Story
Time Travelling: Early computer art in the ‘50s and ‘60s
Wishing: Pretty much everything on the A24 Shop. Mmmmmmmm.
Thank you again for being here. ✨
Love and light,
Rohini
I am definitely feeling the magic, especially since my favorite season, Spring, is here. Thanks for these poems and links. They validate and inspire me :)