For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity…
William Wordsworth, from “Tintern Abbey” (via litverve)
The ancient rhythms of the earth have insinuated themselves
into the rhythms of the human heart.
The earth is not outside us;
it is within: the clay from where the tree of the body grows
John O’Donohue (via metacogmission)
(Source: thedruidsteaparty, via metacogmission)
No, wrong, rushed wrong
Let yourself feel it
It is the last experience natural
Let it saturate and flatten you
You a floor now
You, alone, and the house sparrows throw seed
Eat with them
Become a bird and eat with them
Stimie (via howitzerliterarysociety)
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.
Rumi (via lifeof-ty)
The earth I tread on is not a dead inert mass. It is a body—has a spirit—is organic—and fluid to the influence of its spirit—and to whatever particle of the spirit is in me.
Henry David Thoreau (via apoetreflects)
(Source: geopsych, via apoetreflects)
Autumn eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends.
From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk:
then time returns to the shell.
In the mirror it’s Sunday,
in dream there is room for sleeping,
our mouths speak the truth.
My eye moves down to the sex of my loved one:
we look at each other,
we exchange dark words,
we love each other like poppy and recollection,
we sleep like wine in the conches,
like the sea in the moon’s blood ray.
We stand by the window embracing, and people look up from the street:
it is time they knew!
It is time the stone made an effort to flower,
time unrest had a beating heart. It is time it were time.
It is time.
Paul Celan, from Poems of Paul Celan, trans. by Michael Hamburger (Persea Books, 1988)
Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.
Zelda Fitzgerald (via mirroir)
(Source: rabbitinthemoon, via mirroir)
Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.
Pema Chödrön (via andrewgibby)