collision course

Julie (aka Cookie)'s avatarcookiecrumbstoliveby

Our epoch is a time of tragic collision between matter and spirit and of the downfall of the purely material world view.
Wassily Kandinsky

Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper.”
― Albert Einstein

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(somewhere along the Dingle Peninsula and the Ring of Kerry / Julie Cook / 2015)

Each morning that we are so fortunate to wake…
given one more day of opportunity, setting off to what we think, dare assume, is the planned, the scripted, the designated, the intentional agenda of the day…
chances are we will fail to ever grasp the utter significance of the path we choose to take for that particular…

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Lord, Please Do Tell ~

Deborah Ann Belka's avatarCHRISTian poetry ~ by deborah ann

Lord, Please Do Tell ~ CHRISTian poetry by deborah ann

Oh Lord please do tell,
what it is You do see
whenever You look . . .
into the heart of me.

Do You see a life,
full of faithfulness
one full of hope
filled with truthfulness.

Do You see a mind,
full of obedience
one full of surrender
filled with resilience.

Do You see a soul,
full of forgiveness
one full of grace
filled with stillness.

Do You see a heart,
full of kindness
one full of mercy
filled with mildness.

Oh Lord please do tell,
what in my heart You do see
that we need to change . . .
so I can be more like thee!

~~~~~~~~~

Romans 8:29

“For whom he did foreknow,
he also did predestinate to be
conformed to the image of his Son,
that he might be the firstborn
among many brethren.”

King James Version
by Public Domain

Copyright 2015
Deborah Ann Belka

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914. The damp of the night drives me deeper into my soul. ~Walt Whitman

The rain is alive with songs
it has penned 
for thousands years,
and my heart is blessed
by the sound of its music.
~Idea for above by Natalie Scarberry inspired
by a song in the SOUND OF MUSIC

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The Voice of the Rain
And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:

I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d,
altogether changed, and yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it;
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck’d or unreck’d, duly with love returns.)
~Walt Whitman

“He draws up the drops of water, which distill as rain to the streams…” ~Job 36:27  ✝

**The poet Walt Whitman writes of a conversation he once had with the rain as it dropped gently from the heavens. “Who are you?” the poet asked. Strangely, the raindrops replied and the poet translates its answer for the readers. “I am the poem of the earth,” said the rain. The rain adds that it is born in the form of invisible and intangible vapors that rise eternally from the earth’s land and deep water bodies. It then reaches heaven (the sky) and changes its appearance complete to form clouds of abstract, changeable shapes. Yet, at its core, it remains the same as it was at birth. It then returns to earth as little droplets which wash away the dust and rejuvenate the drought-ridden, dry land. New plants find life which would have otherwise remained hidden and unborn inside the land as mere seeds. Thus, this perpetual cyclic lifestyle ensures that the rain retunes to its origin, the earth, giving it life, and making it pure and beautiful. The poet realizes that the rain’s life is similar to that of any song. A song’s birth place is the poet’s heart. Once complete, it is passed on (wanders) from one person to another. It may change (reck’d) or remain the same (unreck’d) as it travels, but one day, it returns to the poet with all due love of the listeners. The poem is written from the point of view of someone who asked the rain who it was and was answered, it saying “I am the poem of the Earth”, then proceeding to tell how it comes from the earth, only to return once again to wash it and nourish it…that if it were not for the rain, seeds would remain seeds and not flower into their full potential…giving back life to its origin. Then the poem’s “turn” uses this story as a segway to show how “song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment, wandering, Reck’d or unreck’d, duly with love returns.” Meaning that songs come from the soul and after they’ve been heard, and thought good or bad, return with love. Just as rain rises and falls back again, so do poems, songs and other forms of beauty from the soul. (In the photo on the left side of the collage, the artist penned the words to Whitman’s song as the drops of rain.)

913. The sound of rain needs no translation. ~Alan Watts

 Listen to the pouring rain;
Listen to it pour.
Let it rain all night long
‘Cause our need for it’s so strong.
Listen to the falling rain;
Listen to it rain….
~Excerpted and adapted lyrics from a song
recorded by José Feliciano

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On soil long in need of a drink, the autumn rain that began here before bedtime last night and continued on through the night and into the wee hours of the morning was not only useful but also calming and cause for great joy. It had been almost 4 months since we had had any rain, and I’d begun to fear we were entering the throes of another drought. However, the six inches of rain that fell has done much to allay those fears. It has been said that rain is not only drops of water; but also that it is the love of sky for earth. I would add that is the love of God for man as well. Besides being good for the soil, rain is a sweet, lullaby that brings peace and sings to the soul. Thus, as the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and fortuitous rain tapped out its haunting melodies on the roof, I was the happy recipient of hours of contentment. Humbling and holy were the answered prayers that ended months of drought-like conditions, and acknowledging God’s presence in the blessing deepened, as always, my sense of how sacred and hallowed even the simplest of things is. Being the pluviophile that I am, rain never fails to blanket me in great comfort as it reminds me of the basic goodness of life and the overwhelming goodness of God.

It’s raining, it’s pouring;
The old man is snoring.
He went to sleep to the rhythm of the rain
And it was hard to get up the next morning.
~Altered nursery rhyme

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I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit. ~Leviticus 16:4  ✝

What do the wise among us see

Julie (aka Cookie)'s avatarcookiecrumbstoliveby

“Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. ‘You have grown, Halfling,’ he said. ‘Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. you have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell.”
J.R.R. Tolkien

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(a curious jackdaw watches from the crumbling walls at The Rock of Cahsel, County Tipperary, Ireland / Julie Cook / 2015)

What of those wise men…
those sages of days long past…
those perceptive foreign kings who would travel from far far away in search of the…

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912. No one is as capable of gratitude as one who has emerged from the kingdom of night. ~Elie Wiesel

Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest,
to be completely present to the moment,
to taste the here and now, to be where we are.
Help us then, Lord, to be patient and
trust that the treasure we look for is hidden
in the holy ground on which we stand
and apparent even in the absence of light.
~Edited and adapted excerpt by
Henri Nouwen

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O, Ancient of Days, as daylight splits the veil of night, I praise Your holy name and wonder if you come to my garden still. If you do, do you come only in the early hours as I sensed at dawn today? Or do you come as well at dusk when light bedecks, with a touch of quicksilver sparkle, only the very tops of things making out of ordinary beauty that which is extraordinary? Is it in praise of your divine glory that the birds linger and chatter before their daytime forays and then again as they return at day’s end to find rest for the night? Are the gentle breezes I feel upon my face your very breath and the flowers I see fallen jewels from your holy crown? Do the bees and butterflies yet nectar in autumn to guarantee Eden’s resurrection after winter’s wrath consumes them. O, God, I want to know more of you and do believe you are here with me always; for if not on the lawn, I find your footprints upon my heart.

Let us approach God’s throne of grace with confidence so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. ~Hebrews 4:16  ✝

**Image of titmouse and autumn berries via Pinterest

Oh but to glimpse a mere wisp of your Being

Julie (aka Cookie)'s avatarcookiecrumbstoliveby

“…My unassisted heart is barren clay,
Which of its native self can nothing feed:
Of good and pious works Thou art the seed,
Which quickens only where Thou say’st it may;
Unless Thou show to us Thine own true way,
No man can find it: Father! Thou must lead….”

Excerpt from Michaelangelo’s sonnet,
To the Supreme Being
as translated by William Wordsworth

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(looking off the shoreline cliffs of Gleann Cholm Cille out to the mighty northern Atlantic, County Donegal, Ireland / Julie Cook / 2015–a picture which cannot do justice to the sheer overwhelming and endless and uncontainable landscape which is this island Nation)

If we are fortunate enough, perhaps attuned enough, aware enough, enlightened enough, still enough, quiet enough, open enough, low enough, sad enough, hurting enough, joyful enough, mad enough, young enough, old enough, happy enough, skeptical enough, believe enough, doubt enough, love enough…
At some point during…

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