Tuesday, September 27, 2016

An Artist

There is no such thing as an artist: 
there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. 
When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? 
When the candle is out, who needs it?

~ Annie Dillard

Monday, September 26, 2016

The Happiness of Trees

I slept that summer on a screen porch in the woods
      with the creatures and insects singing so loudly
my mind seemed to join them—out there without me—
      to move around like a breeze from form to form

and then to return as a fox or a cicada,
      some other night creature, to slip back inside me
humming whatever it had heard, patterns
      I couldn’t sing along with but felt inside

like the happiness of trees when a soft wind
      turns their leaves’ pale underbellies up to the sky
and makes the sap rise. I loved to wake
      before myself, to silence and fog.

Sometimes I got up and walked out into the chilly woods
      and sometimes I turned over as though this happiness 
might last forever, and slept just a while 
               longer, until the first birds sang.

~ Michael Hettich

Friday, September 23, 2016


For all that has been: Thank you. 
For all that is to come: Yes!

~ Dag Hammarskjöld

Thursday, September 22, 2016

The Flame

At times, our own light goes out and is 
rekindled by a spark from another person. 
Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude 
of those who have lighted the flame within us.

~ Albert Schweitzer

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Alive in the Moment

Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in everything we do and see. Every breath we take, every step we take, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. The question is whether or not we are in touch with it. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.

~ Thich Nhat Hahn

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Ring the Bells

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

~ Leonard Cohen

Monday, September 19, 2016


It is difficult to know what to do with
so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you,
you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands,
like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn’t need you to hold it down.
It doesn’t need anything.
Happiness lands on the roof of the next house, singing,
and disappears when it wants to.
You are happy either way.
Even the fact that you once lived in a peaceful tree house
and now live over a quarry of noise and dust
cannot make you unhappy.
Everything has a life of its own,
it too could wake up filled with possibilities
of coffee cake and ripe peaches,
and love even the floor which needs to be swept,
the soiled linens and scratched records…

Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.

~Naomi Shihab Nye