Musings From The Trail

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Love Poem to God

October 2, 2017 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

The Fall

Onto a Vast Plain

You are not surprised at the force of the storm—
you have seen it growing.
The trees flee. Their flight
sets the boulevards streaming. And you know:
he whom they flee is the one
you move toward. All your senses
sing him, as you stand at the window.

The weeks stood still in summer.
The trees’ blood rose. Now you feel
it wants to sink back
into the source of everything. You thought
you could trust that power
when you plucked the fruit:
now it becomes a riddle again
and you again a stranger.

Summer was like your house: you know
where each thing stood.
Now you must go out into your heart
as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins.

The days go numb, the wind
sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves.

Through the empty branches the sky remains.
It is what you have.
Be earth now, and evensong.
Be the ground lying under that sky.
Be modest now, like a thing
ripened until it is real,
so that he who began it all
can feel you when he reaches for you.

by

Rainier Maria Rilke
Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

 

Elemental Blessings

November 25, 2013 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

celtic knot

Celtic Blessings to You

Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the infinite spirit to you.

✧ ✧ ✧

May your holiday be filled with laughter, love and joy.

Day of the Dead

November 1, 2013 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

 

Fairy Frost whispers, "winter is coming"

Fairy Frost whispers, “winter is coming”

Winter is rapidly approaching here in the Rockies. And it is no accident the el Dia de los Muertos is traditionally celebrated today;  winter is the season of death. This Day of the Dead is a time to connect with, honor and celebrate everything you received and learned from your dead loved ones.

Take a few moments today to pause and honor everyone and everything you have loved that is no longer with you. Light a candle, say a prayer of thanks, offer blessings.

Celtic Blessings to You and Yours

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours

 

Celtic New Year

October 28, 2013 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

Samhain

As the shadows lengthen and the days grow short, my Celtic ancestors celebrated the start of their year.  Depending on which source you believe, the Celtic New Year’s Festival of Samhain happened on November 1st, also known in some parts as the Day of the Dead… OR Samhain may have been celebrated at the time of the new moon in late October or early November.  This year, the closest new moon falls on November 3.  So, either way, now is the time to celebrate!

As winter approaches, I find it quite natural to pause long enough to acknowledge all the blessings I have received in the past year. And I also like to reflect on what I would like to create and grow in the coming year. 

In honor of the approaching Celtic New Year, I offer blessings from elemental earth, air, fire, water and spirit to you.

“May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.”

~John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

Advice to Myself – Keep on Flowing

October 25, 2012 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

 How do I stay true to myself as I flow though this world?  

“Do I change like a river, widening and deepening, eddying back on myself sometimes, bursting my banks sometimes when there’s too much water, too much life in me, and sometimes dried up from lack of rain?

Will the I that is me grow and widen and deepen?

Or will I stagnate and become an arid riverbed? Will I allow people to dam me up and confine me to wall so that I flow only where they want?

Will I allow them to turn me into a canal to use for they own purposes? Or will I make sure I flow freely, coursing my way through the land and ploughing a valley of my own?”

–Aidan Chambers, This is All

Can I keep flowing and resonating with my joy, my truth, even when surrounded by others who are awash in sorrow or fear or rage?  How do I hold my ground and allow the world to be however it is today?  I will not do any good to anyone if I drop my light, my joy and resonate with the pain of those around me.

Maybe it isn’t cruel or crass to stay joyful while others in the world suffer.  What if our joy is the most potent medicine there is for the wounds of the world?

I want to acknowledge joy as the amazing gift it is. And to keep opening to joy, even in the face of the darkness and pain in the world around me.  May I hold my joy sacred and allow it to flow far and wide.

☾☽

“But just as the river is always at the door, so is the world always outside.
And it is in the world that we have to live.”
-Lian Hearn

Advice to Myself – See the Miracles

October 14, 2012 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

Leaves and Sky

“Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize:
a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child
— our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”
― Thich Nhat Hanh

Autumn St. Vrain River

Autumn Ramblings

September 27, 2007 by Nancy Lankston Leave a Comment

The sound of summer is the drone of cicadas rising and falling in the still hot afternoon air. Birds calling evokes spring for me; The “hello, look at me” songs that fill the treetops in April signal to me that spring has really arrived. Autumn is the crunch of dry leaves underfoot on the trail and the rustle of dying leaves overhead. And winter sounds like the relentless north wind, blowing mercilessly through the barren gray tree skeletons on the hill.

Every season has a sound for me. And a different feel in the air. Winter feels like deep, troubled sleep; tossing and turning, looking for quiet repose. Then spring arrives feeling frenetic, busy – as though there is not nearly enough time to get everything done. Summer is sleepy and abundant; the earth is resting joyfully in her aliveness. Autumn comes and I feel a slowing of the pulse as the growing cycle slows down to a whisper.

Autumn is here. Can you hear it?

I lie in bed and listen to the nighttime sounds of the autumn woods; A cricket suddenly playing a violin solo in the silence. A solitary tree frog tentatively adding to the melody. The wind whispering through the leaves overhead. Zen music for my soul.

Cool crispness fills the autumn day. And now a cool and snuggly autumn night stretches before me silent and inviting. A comforter night filled with the scent and feel of my love’s skin on mine. Synching up and exploring the nooks and crannies of each other as the crickets sing.

In the morning, there is mist in the valley. The second time this week. I look out of the kitchen window to discover that the pond no longer exists at the bottom of the hill. It has been swallowed up by a silvery shroud hugging the trees. Not a breath of wind stirs and the morning mist feels sharp and cool in my throat, just as autumn air should feel. I can see my own breath ebb and flow as I stand on the deck straining to see the pond below.

My son chatters away in the dining room right behind me. As I peer out into the clouds, his chatter recedes and fades away. Life is still and utterly serene for a brief time. A little moment of peace in the midst of my morning chaos.

The geese are in a chaos of their own this morning. Honking and flying around the pond and yard. Disturbed, excited – something is up. Is it time to head south? Are southern waters calling to them? I do not hear the call, but I see the geese’s frenzy as they circle.

It must be scary for the young geese to feel the urge to leave and not know where they will end up. Kind of like writing. And once you get there, you cannot remember quite how you managed to do it. Traversing new territory, whether by wing or by pen, must be done on faith. Take a deep breath and start.

One stroke at a time…

Published in “On the Path” November 1999

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