The Land of Plenty


The Land of Plenty 

Don’t really have the courage
To stand where I must stand.
Don’t really have the temperament
To lend a helping hand.
 
Don’t really know who sent me
To raise my voice and say:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
 
I don’t know why I come here,
Knowing as I do,
What you really think of me,
What I really think of you.
 
For the millions in the prison,
That wealth has set apart –
For the Christ who has not risen,
From the caverns of the heart –
 
For the innermost decision,
That we cannot but obey –
For what’s left of our religion,
I lift my voice and pray:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
 
I know I said I’d meet you,
I’d meet you at the store,
But I can’t buy it, baby.
I can’t buy it anymore.
 
And I don’t really know who sent me,
To raise my voice and say:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
 
For the innermost decision
That we cannot but obey
For what’s left of our religion
I lift my voice and pray:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
 

~ Leonard Cohen ~

Ten New Songs

Flight of the Eagle

Remembering our Ability to Soar. Created with Toolwiz; Photo Editor; Pixlr and PicMonkey. The feather represents the power of flight and the element of air in our lives; while the handprint represents our connection to our ancestors and our heritage from those on whose shoulders we stand.

Eagle Poem

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circles in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon, within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

~ Joy Harjo ~

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Freedom, Love and Light!

love-of-art

WE HAVE NOT COME TO TAKE PRISONERS

We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.
 
We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.
 
Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.
 
Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
 
We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
“O please, O please,
Come out and play.”
 
For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,
 
But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom and
Light!
 
~ Hafiz ~
 
 
 
(The Gift ~ versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

Guardian of the Road Less Travelled

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
 – Robert Frost

The Crazy Ones

fire-within

Here’s to the crazy ones.
The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.
They’re not fond of rules.
And they have no respect for the status quo.

You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them,
disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them.
Because they change things.
They invent. They imagine.
They heal. They explore. They create. They inspire.
They push the human race forward.
Maybe they have to be crazy.

How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art?
Or sit in silence and hear a song that’s never been written?
Or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels?
While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.

Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world,
are the ones who do.

 (Advertisement for Apple Computer: snitched – without attribution – from the writings of Jack Kerouac)

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The Life of Stones: Focus

focusThis my latest crystal mandala layout – for Focus.  I moved the table away from its previous position beside my crystal collection as I felt the grouped crystals interfered with the energy of the crystal mandala and its intent of focus. It feels heaps better in its new position under my spider drum and Shamanic Power painting (see photo below).

Later I’m going to try my hand at talking about the crystals I’ve worked with using my new tablet, so won’t go into details of this today.

I get a poem and photo in my inbox every day from Panhala, a Yahoo group, which started up when I lived in the UK in 2003. These posts really light my day, a wonderful selection of poetry, so I’m going to reprint one here relevant to my love of crystals, rocks and stones:

Stone

Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.

 I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill—
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.

 

~ Charles Simic ~

(The Voice at 3 A.M.)

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Paradise Circus

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I created the above image then, for the life of me, couldn’t decide what suited the artwork. Then I remembered Massive Attack (I love at 69 saying my favourite music  is trip-hop, sounds so trendy!) and my favourite track, Paradise Circus.

We came across this band when we were living in Australia and used to watch a weekend music programme which included all sorts of tracks. We listened to one with Liz Fraser, who looked small and a bit drab, then nearly fell of our chairs when her beautiful voice started pouring out magical, angelic music. Paradise Circus works with various women singers and I understand that Liz Fraser is now more reclusive and doesn’t perform in public very often nowadays.

Paradise Circus was the theme music of the BBC series with Idris Elba, Luther. And THEN I came across another Massive Attack track, Teardrop, with Liz Fraser, who – as I said above – really has the most sublime voice, so I’ve also included that.