The Whistler

By Mary Oliver

All of a sudden she began to whistle By all of a sudden I mean that for more than thirty years she had not whistled. It was thrilling. At first I wondered, who was in the house, what stranger? I was upstairs reading, and she was downstairs. As from the throat of a wild and cheerful bird, not caught but visiting, the sounds warbled and slid and doubled back and larked and soared.

Finally I said, Is that you whistling? Yes, she said, I used to whistle, a long time ago. Now I see I can still whistle. And cadence after cadence she strolled through the house, whistling.

I know her so well, I think, I thought. Elbow and ankle. Mood and desire. Anguish and frolic. Anger too. And the devotions. And for all that, do we even begin to know each other? Who is this I’ve been living with for thirty years?

This clear, dark, lovely whistler?
  And a few  recent lil’faces;) mixed media for most
 

   
 
I felt bored and uninspired with my creativity lately so I decided to paint faces intuitively and quickly. Good exercise to stimulate my practice!

A huge silence

If we were not so single minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death. 

Perhaps the world can teach us as when everything seems dead but later proves to be alive. 

~Pablo Neruda

beautiful and afraid

via Pinterest

tall

meditation

I stand here, present to my feet,
my bones, my spine, holding me.
I stand here, present to my heart,
the blood going through my veins like rivers.
Outside the rain is battling the roof;

I stand here present to my mind,
the thoughts and the hopes,
the melancholy running like a river.
the sound of the rain resonating in my heart.
I stand tall in the storm of my mind.

This inspired me to create this mixed media piece on paper…

dropping slow

THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

William Butler Yeats

dive

You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
So many live on and want nothing
And are raised to the rank of prince
By the slippery ease of their light judgments
But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.
You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.
You have not grown old, and it is not too late
To dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.

― Rainer Maria Rilke
Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

always a story

it’s a story of life…
of getting lost so many times
with no compass, perhaps an old map
and on new hills, breathing too fast, but breathing

it’s a story of life
of learning and daring
wandering between the chaos and still waters
through the darkness of new shores, without light

it’s a story of life
of discovery and courage
it’s about daring greatly.

let go

May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

deep breath

“Listen – are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”
― Mary Oliver

keep going

“Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final”

― Rainer Maria Rilke