Sunday, July 1, 2012

\IL\ One, Origin

"The moon waxes and wanes with the passing of a shadow, but this makes no change in the substance of the moon itself. In the same way, life is not divided into life and death. Death is merely change, not the end."
--Ilchi Lee

\Bohn\ Origin, Foundation, Essence

Don't divide happiness from unhappiness. Don't separate light from darkness. Just as honey water won't quench your thirst no matter how much of it you drink, so, too, temporary happiness cannot satisfy the soul. Only pure water can quench your thirst. Your true nature is only found in a place beyond happiness and misery.
--Ilchi Lee

"Relearning to Pray"

All my life has been a relearning to pray--a letting go of incantational magic, petition, and vain repetition "Me Lord, me," instead of watching attentively for the light that burns at the center of every star, every cell, every living creature, every human heart.

--Chet Raymo, Natural Prayers


In a pool of sand and silt a starfish had thrust its arms up stiffly and was holding its body away from the stifling mud.

"It's still alive," I ventured.

"Yes," he said, and with a quick yet gentle movement he picked up the star and spun it over my head and far out into the sea. It sank in a burst of spume and the waters roared once more.

"It may live," he said, "if the offshore pull is strong enough."

He spoke gently, and across his bronzed, worn face the light still came and went in subtly altering colors.

"There are not many come this far," I said, groping in a sudden embarrassment for words. "Do you collect?"

"Only like this," he said softly, gesturing amidst the wreckage of the shore. "And only for the living." He stopped again, oblivious of my curiosity and skipped another star neatly across the water.

"The stars," he said, "throw well. One can help them."

He looked full at me with a faint question kindling in his eyes, which seemed to take on the far depths of the sea.

"I do not collect," I said uncomfortably, the wind beating at my garments. "Neither the living nor the dead. I gave it up a long time ago. Death is the only successful collector."

I nodded and walked away, leaving him there upon the dune with that great rainbow ranging up the sky behind him. ...

--Loren Eiseley, "The Star Thrower," in The Unexpected Universe

Yellow Seahorse

Ever so fragile
Drifting along a current
Pony of the sea
--Susan Walker

"The Secrets of the Seahorse"
by Scott Carpenter

You caught my eye
floating through the sea grass
seeming to move without effort,
like a belle making her entrance,
but up close fluttering your tiny fins
with all your delicate might

Little Lined Seahorse
lightly bowed and demure,
elegant and white as an angel
but draped in light green and pale yellow
understated but unforgettable, beguiling but untouchable

You draw me to you
with your impossible shape
and your eyes always looking
up at me, nodding as you pass through
the waving grass,
as if to leave, before

gracefully curving
your enchanting tail around
the grass and pausing to look back
like a silent screen siren casually leaving
her fallen handkerchief
for a hesitant beau

Your lacy veil armors you
your ancient manners play
with a light touch I can only admire
the sea grass curtain closes on your triumph;
beneath your grace
wells strong resolve