There is this time: enwoombed
There is this time of the day.
And a particular time of the year
When the animals have been fed
and they are lying in hairy heaps…
There is this time of the day.
And a particular time of the year
When the animals have been fed
and they are lying in hairy heaps…
You turn up your face, back bent,
arms outstretched, so that if the sky
scoops you up, you will be ready to be lifted.
…
From this moment on,
you regret nothing.
Do you have mysterious access to
the deep well of poetry or music?
Can you hold contradictions?
Are you plucky and playful?
Adorn yourself with these excellencies my kinsmen.
How can we create pathways between what David Whyte describes as our inner world and the outer world of the yet-to-be-discovered? Pathways that lead us through the close passage of endings and onto the tender ground of what is coming to be.
How do we manage this, particularly, in those darkest of early dawn hours when the light of new day has yet to illumine our next steps. In this exquisite letter, David explores the frontier conversations that can help us navigate both the dazzle and the darkness.
First, build a boat. Much smaller than Noah’s
and not in anticipation of an epic flood…
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