Bells

el arco de cabo san lucas under white and blue sky
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An odd

Turn taken,

And now the road goes by beside

Burned cities all forsaken

And the ashes of fields are crumpled into dust.

The canyon wrens

No longer fly near here

And their guiding spirits

Seem to have no wings,

A numinous cloud blocks

The lunar rays from shining

While the moon forgets her phases, just

As the sun

Is lost, setting in the cave by the sea,

When the tide

Has turned out of sight

Yet beyond the time still gone,

The dragonfly flits

Anew through rainbowed fountains;

The light of heaven sings

High on the shimmering

Branches of the holy mountains

Beyond the impenetrable night

Of hidden majesty.

“Abhaya mudra”

“Fear not” – but only follow

Ganesha,

Always wise,

With eyes

Of emerald light.

Go,

Where the black-chinned hummingbirds fly,

That host

of angels,

Who stay

Unwavering, steady on their way

Brave in the bright

Wind of dawn

Above the sea crashing long

On the rocks

Where all begins, again and yet again

Within the bells

Of Shiva,

Far along

The wave-bent coast,

In the still-sung, rising song

Of the Holy One.

In the mists of the bells of Shiva,

in the winds of the song and

The ringing of the seas.

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2023

Shani

green trees near snow covered mountain
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Returning

To the land of drifting snow –

So

Many angels.

Black ravens circle

Above

The treetop,

Glinting green.

Dawn

Stars discern

A faint pathway

To river banks unseen.

Only divinity remains,

Only angels and singing bells,

In the gentle rains

Of spring.

Rocks washed, in the rolling

Dance

Of the unstoppable swells

Of the sea;

Tree shadows fade against the sky.

There is no one,

No one at all.

The tangles of time are all undone.

Only the lingering glance

Of eons sliding by,

Only the halo

Of the sacred night,

Only the peace of Eternity,

Only the startling snow,

Only the song of the swan

Has slipped away

Into the gray

Clouds of the pillars of the night,

Where the moon might

Sing,

The white-crowned sparrow

Hop,

And the magpie don

Her white robes, worn

In celebration

When the cosmic journey leads on and on

Through calming mists

Over miles of snow forests.

The one who waited to kill

The soul

No longer glimmers,

But is gone,

Into the night-waves of shadow.

Faded,

The bitter song – of illusion – was never sung –

The notes were never played,

But fell instead into the yawning gap of the abyss,

So the autumn leaves never cascaded

On to the burned embers of time, unborn

With the final hiss

Of the raindrop.

Now, at last, only

The brave, undaunted raven rises

Whose eyes

Glisten wise

In the snow-radiant dark.

Only the real one,

Who soars aloft, ever higher

Over the juniper tree.

Shani,

The first one,

The only one,

The God of myth

Who sparkles fire

As the bright

Truth

Of being,

Riding on the swift ark

Of the moon-crowned night.

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2023

The Hawaiian Islands — Jet Eliot

Aloha! Let’s hop on a virtual plane and cruise to Hawaii for a tropical visit to a few major islands. Hawaii has approximately 137 islands, many of which are very small. There are eight major islands and we’re going to frolic on the four most commonly visited ones. We are 2,000 miles (3,200 km) west […]

The Hawaiian Islands — Jet Eliot

Only the white owl

bird white owl feather
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It is only the white owl

From her tall

Pine

Spire

Who

Might see the pinecone grow

And who

Still remembers

Even now, the snow

Drifting across the misted moon

After the embers

Of centuries

Of dark fire.

It was only

A while ago

Among the gold cliffs

That black ravens sounded their raucous calls

Of wisdom-woven prophecies,

They who brought the end of time, at last,

This time that has drawn to its close,

And now the single petal of the rose

Falls.

There glimmer

Within the universe of beings, the silent

Springing feet of the herd of deer

Bounding ever higher,

Ever fast,

On their journey

Across the snow.

Soon,

In the beginning,

The gold face of the setting sun

Will appear

Through silver sheets of rain that shimmer,

While, in the wandering whiffs

Of bitter smoke, will sound the cries

Of yesteryear,

That linger, still heard, echoing among the far cliffs,

The spirit of days

Gone

By.

Now hills swept with snow

Travel farther back to

The land of mists and magic, flown.

There

The wings of butterflies

Unfold in the dawn,

In the beginning

That knows still the ancient ways

And there along the shore that goes to nowhere

The brave one

Walks on alone

In the far country,

The soul of courage,

Portender of knowledge.

The howl

Of the wolf, ascendant,

Will mark

The moment

When the moon

Rises over fields of stars, when Hanuman, hero

Of the earth and the skies,

In the beginning and the ending,

Brings clouds of peace that shine

Transcendent

Through the living fire of the distant dark.

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2023

The Beauty of sleet

dry grass covered with ice in sunny day
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Sleet falls in a sharp angle across the sky. The ground in just a few moments is covered in white – white that highlights the deep shadows of mystery within the waving sage brush.

The sleet turns to snow and rain. There is thunder too, deep, far away. Huge snowflakes billow down. The sage brush bounces, buffeted by the wind. This is the beauty of the universe.

If I were outside repairing the electric lines, or even just trying to get my car going — I would be saying, “Oh, what nasty weather!”

Somewhere the electricity repair person is hard at work, and for him or her, it is truly very nasty weather.

Inside, I am grateful for electricity and warmth and for the freedom to watch the beauty of the earth – where all is One – the falling snow, the rhythm of the seasons. And all is eternity – each snowflake and the ravens that fly bravely in the wind.

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2022

A course of action

tall tree
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A course of action.  If you wish to help the earth, you might do the following:  Listen to a tree – or talk to a tree. If there is not tree immediately available, it could be a cloud, a rock, a bird – any aspect of the world of nature. Spend half an hour a day – or five minutes – or whatever time you have.

How will this help the earth? This will work because the basic problem which is destroying the planet we live on – is the alienation of us, as human beings, from the world of nature. Because we focus on our human interests and wishes (and sometimes genuine urgent situations that cannot be avoided), we have become alienated from nature. (When there is a real crisis that requires your attention, then come back to focusing on the tree whenever you are able to.)

In this way we will be getting back in contact with nature – and in our own way building a little bridge to connect with nature. This may be the most effective and most direct way to transform our relationship as human beings with the planet earth. And in so doing, we will be laying the groundwork for the transformation that is required. It will also have a healing effect on us – and on the tree too. And on those around us – like a pebble that lands on the water of a lake and ripples in all directions. Like the butterfly that you may have heard about who changed the course of world history by a single motion of his wings.

***

© Copyright Sharon St Joan, 2022

Orchidelirium Anew — Organikos

Burnt tip orchids. At least 10 vanished from a national nature reserve at Mount Caburn, East Sussex. Photograph: Katewarn Images/Alamy Susan Orlean brought orchidelirium to our attention in 1999, shining a light on how and why these flowers inspire lots of good, and plenty of bad behavior. Orchids have been abundant in our pages over the […]

Orchidelirium Anew — Organikos

Yes America we do have WILD horses, but not likely for much longer — Straight from the Horse’s Heart

By Stacie-Lee Sherwood “Millions of people live on the East Coast but have no idea our wild horses exist and how they need urgent help to survive…” Growing up on the east coast I knew we had horses, lots and lots of horses. None of these were wild free roaming, but they were everywhere. We […]

Yes America we do have WILD horses, but not likely for much longer — Straight from the Horse’s Heart