A poem from Mary Oliver in honor of Solstice and the beauty of trees. This gorgeous pine greets me every morning when I head out to feed the birds. Blessings to our beautiful mother earth, Pachamama. And may all beings be blessed during this turning of the season as we move once again towards the light.
When I Am Among the Trees
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
—Mary Oliver, Thirst
Listen to the deeds of Kuan Yin
Responding compassionately on every side
With great vows, deep as the ocean,
Through inconceivable periods of time,
Serving innumerable Buddhas,
Giving great, clear, and pure vows…
To hear her name, to see her body,
To hold her in the heart, is not in vain,
For she can extinguish the suffering of existence.
From the Buddhist Lotus Sutra
Up before the dawn this morning, co-creating with the emergence of a new day. Gorgeous sunrise over the Cascades. I will continue to post images of my recent painting of Kuan Yin as she emerges from the canvas. In the spirit of the Divine Mother and the Taoist tradition:
The Taoist artist or poet intuitively reached into the secret essence of what he[she] was observing, making himself one with it, then inviting it to speak through him, so releasing the dynamic harmony within it. He imposed nothing of himself on it but reflected the creative soul of what he was observing through the highly developed skills that he had cultivated over a lifetime of practice. . . . The Tao flows through the whole work as cosmic presence, at once transcendent in its mystery and immanent in its form. —From The Divine Feminine by Andrew Harvey and Anne Baring