Finding a Thin Place

 

cobsunsetpnp14“Thin places,” the Celts call this space,
Both seen and unseen,
Where the door between the world
And the next is cracked open for a moment
And the light is not all on the other side.
God shaped space. Holy.

~Sharlande Sledge

athinplace

…in a thin place, there is an immediacy of experience
where words of faith become words of life…
~Sylvia Maddox

cobsunsetpnp142

Deep peace of the running wave
Deep peace of the flowing air
Deep peace of the quiet earth
Deep peace of the shining stars
Deep peace of the Son of Peace.
~Celtic blessing

sunsetpnp14

Our Lord is great, and great His praise
From just this one small part of earth,
Then what of the image of His greatness
Which comes from the whole of His fine work?
…What of the greatness and pure loveliness,
Of God Himself?
~Thomas Jones, Welsh Minister

Ready to Listen

Photo by Nate Gibson
Photo by Nate Gibson

Every morning I sit across from you
at the same small table,
the sun all over the breakfast things—
curve of a blue-and-white pitcher,
a dish of berries—
me in a sweatshirt or robe,
you invisible.

Most days, we are suspended
over a deep pool of silence.
I stare straight through you
or look out the window at the garden,
the powerful sky,
a cloud passing behind a tree.

There is no need to pass the toast,
the pot of jam,
or pour you a cup of tea,
and I can hide behind the paper,
rotate in its drum of calamitous news.

But some days I may notice
a little door swinging open
in the morning air,
and maybe the tea leaves
of some dream will be stuck
to the china slope of the hour—
then I will lean forward,
elbows on the table,
with something to tell you,
and you look up, as always,
your spoon dripping milk, ready to listen.
~Billy Collins “A Portrait of the Reader With a Bowl of Cereal”

image

A Wreath of Fern and Cloud Puffs

ice216

cloud

Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the depths—and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out. What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.

~ Robert Frost, “For Once, Then, Something”

fernhill

Be Idle and Blessed

sunset62114

goldenraspberry

orangedaisy

bluesteensma

sunset625144

sunsetgrasses9

Who made the world?

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
~Mary Oliver from “The Summer Day”

eveningbush

pansycloseup

morningglory

farmflower2

qalace3

sunsetgrasses10

Parables of Sun Light

redcurrant20141

dawn7251

morning9233

But all the gardens

Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales   
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.   
            There could I marvel
                  My birthday
      Away but the weather turned around.

      It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky   
      Streamed again a wonder of summer
                  With apples
            Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child’s
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother   
            Through the parables
                  Of sun light
      And the legends of the green chapels
…O may my heart’s truth

                  Still be sung
      On this high hill in a year’s turning.
~Dylan Thomas from “Poem in October”
dawn752
redcurrant2014

How the Dream Looms

mountains1

Do you know how the dream looms? how if summer
        misses one of us the two of us miss summer—
Summer when the lungs of the earth take a long
        breath for the change to low contralto singing
        mornings when the green corn leaves first break
        through the black loam—
And another long breath for the silver soprano melody
        of the moon songs in the light nights when the
        earth is lighter than a feather, the iron mountains
        lighter than a goose down—
So I shall look for you in the light nights then, in the
        laughter of slats of silver under a hill hickory.
In the listening tops of the hickories, in the wind
        motions of the hickory shingle leaves, in the
        imitations of slow sea water on the shingle silver
        in the wind—
I shall look for you.
~Carl Sandburg, “Silver Wind”

rapids

Fitting Stone to Stone

stonecottage

Creating foundation that will last in the fitting of stone to stone, different, separate, but stronger when the fit is perfect~~

 

If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes:

Look for foundations of sea-worn granite,
my fingers had the art to make stone love stone,
you will find some remnant.
~Robinson Jeffers from “Tor House”