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Gratefulness
By taking good care of my body, mind, and spirit, knowing it is part of the great cycle. By living in gratitude for the many gifts I have received in this life (and continue to receive). To cultivate joy.
From a high place, with gratitude, we peer at the reflection at what we have become. Grateful, for the good hidden in the mirror though now obscured by hate. With love and compassion, lies and greed will be washed from the mirror, and reflect clearly, that goodness that resides within us.
Sitting with my leg propped up,I can continue to spread good news, appreciate this is what I do, Not in denial of these dark times, I attempt to lean toward that which is good, at the same time accepting that which is harmful, knowing we are in painful transition, transition to the good,
By saying “Yes,” to what is, and doing what I can in peaceful, yet honest ways to help in the movement to end racial injustice and police violence. By finding positive, uplifting subjects to post. By writing of gratitude. By saying “okay, yes,” to the ties in my world that bind.
Gratitude. My body, though quite old, functions reasonably well. For that I am grateful.
Thank you to the millions of people spread around the planet who join hearts in religious discipline, or none. Your energies and love, I feel this morning in a new way. I feel swept along upon a wave moving toward in the light. How lovely that acknowledgment was given me for my tiny addition to this powerful, loving movement.
A direct “I love you,” often to my children is almost automatic. But I think, personally, sometimes miss the cues, the words, little acts, that express love to me. Likewise, I often forget, am not conscious of small acts, or things I say, that are expressing my love to another. Being aware and open, recognizing love when it is given, and when it is received in one’s by actions as well as words.
The Haiku study seems a kind of community, lovely energy being gathered and released by people reaching for beauty and spirit of the now. Thank you. Shining on my porch, tiny stone, flat and silver grey. Tree frog hops away
Warming campfire blaze Crackling flames tell ancient tales Fur-wrapped men in caves.
Smoke and embers Ignite sorrow in every land Notre Dame’s ashes.
I join silent crowd, climb hill’s crest, gaze down, and gasp! Hopi Deer Dancers!
Bright leaf drifts and bobs, on noonday breeze not yet warm. Early yellow butterfly!
Dawn’s gossamer fog Pale, new leaves quiver, turn, shine Silver maple tree!
Naturally How heart-appealing on the mountain pass, Are wild violets hidden in the grass! –Basho
This verse interpretation is from “A Net of Fireflies,” by Harold Stewart, published in 1960. He translated haiku as couplets, thinking this form most aptly catches the lyrical sound and spirit of the original Japanese. This particular verse appeals to me since a day or two ago, I was happily surprised by masses of tiny violets hiding in my lawn. Reading from ...
This verse interpretation is from “A Net of Fireflies,” by Harold Stewart, published in 1960. He translated haiku as couplets, thinking this form most aptly catches the lyrical sound and spirit of the original Japanese. This particular verse appeals to me since a day or two ago, I was happily surprised by masses of tiny violets hiding in my lawn. Reading from “A Net of Fireflies,” brings wonderful memories of the dear friend who gave the book to me nearly 60 years ago.
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