Thursday, August 16, 2012

Who knows?

by Robie Kulokivi of weretco
from The Olive Bird 

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear
 moonbeams striking on the windows.

In my chest,
a strange voice is awakened
 and a song plays inside me
a longing that is not mine.

They say that ancestors, dead before their time,
 with young blood still in their veins,
 with great passion in their blood,
 with the sun still burning in their blood
 come to continue to live
 within us
 their unfinished lives.

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear
 moonbeams striking on the windows.

O, who knows, soul of mine, in which chest you will sing
 you also, after centuries,
 in soft ropes of silence,
 on harps of obscurity - the drowned longing
and the pleasure of living torn? Who knows?
Who knows?
‘Silence’ by Lucian Blaga
Lucian Blaga (May 9, 1895 - May 6, 1961) The ninth son of a parish priest, Blaga grew to become one of Romania's foremost poets and philosophers. Born in Transylvania, his father died in 1908 leaving the family destitute and forcing Blaga to leave secondary school. Until the age of four he purportedly never uttered a word; a period of his childhood that he later described as, ‘under the sign of the incredible absence of word’ and ‘mute as a swan’.
by Charles Barnes of clbphoto
from Weibler Wire Sculpture

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Baby love...

Parents bring home a newly-born baby. Their 4-year-old daughter insists on speaking to her new sibling - alone, she insists. The amused parents leave, but stand at the doorway for easy eavesdropping. Their daughter gets close to the infant and urgently whispers: 'Quick! Tell me where we came from and why we're here. I'm beginning to forget!' (story from Richard Rohr's book, Things Hidden) 
photo via pixdaus
I've just discovered Franciscan writer and speaker Richard Rohr through a dear friend. After listening to one talk I can see much wisdom there. I love Rohr's idea that we come into the world as pure spiritual beings and it's only through conditioning over the first seven years that this knowing fades. But we can reclaim this knowing through meditation /prayer and reflection.

For all those precious babies I've had the honor of knowing -

I talk and you listen
that's all you do
And yet I see
in the eyes of you
The pattern of life
fall into place
The truth reflected
in your face.

ps I have no idea where I found the fabulous animated gif at the top of this post but big thanks to whoever composed it.