Following the Thread

It's late and my mind is full. Today was day one of my SoulCollage® facilitator training. I should be in bed sleeping and actually had the lights turned out, but this poem kept stirring inside me. I read it a couple of days ago, but was reminded of it again today as I stood in a circle of new friends and we wove together a net of comfort and safety. Over the next few days, we will not only be learning about the art of SoulCollage® facilitation, but also weaving together the different aspects of our own lives that come to surface through card making. I am filled with great anticipation for this adventure.

The Way It Is

There's a thread that you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn't change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can't get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.
You don't ever let go of the thread.

--William Stafford

Today was yet another day in holding onto the thread of this life I call mine.

"fantasy" by lucy

better late than never

Of those who draw them to
the extreme verge,
the edge
that crackles:
that is
your beauty:
that is what
you do.

-Hilda Morley, “The Wild Cherry Tree”

a little late to the poetry party, i still wanted to share how these two images from abbey of the arts came together for me.

a little space

Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate,
I find under the boughs of love and hate,
In all poor foolish things that live a day,
Eternal beauty wandering her way.

Come near, come near, come near--Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill!

--William Butler Yeats

the sun is shining
the fog is lifting
words of beauty speak again
my eyes have opened
my heart is grateful
friends have drawn near &
still left me space for breath to fill.

blessings to all who read here today. peace.

a sign perhaps?

At the crossroads,
where one could go either direction;
she chose the road less traveled
and that made all the difference.
It might have been easier
to take a conventional path
of relative safety and comfort;
of predictability and routine.
But she wanted to fly to the far edges of things,
to venture beyond the horizon
where adventures beckoned,
curious and irresistible,
shaped by constant change.
No set boundaries
for this small town girl,
always longing for excitement
and new discoveries.
Even if the road proved bumpy and long,
pearls of wisdom produced along the way:
unexpected blessings.

© Tara Bradford @ paris parfait

see related post here as well as more visual journal pages at lucy creates!!!

Guest House

I have been away for a few days only returning last evening. My desire is to connect and touch my friends through this space, but I am feeling the need to stay with myself for a bit longer. Nevertheless, this poem greeted me today and it speaks much to where I am. So, this is my offering for the day along with this fabulous new photo by bill.

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-Rumi