nunc scio quit sit amor
-virgil

not knowing when the dawn will come, i open every door

-emily dickinson

suil
's e an nathair cham a th' annam
's e an nathair lethshuileach a th' annam
's mise mi-thein
's e ban-thaidh a th' annam

the commonest fallacy among women is that simply having children makes them a mother - which is as absurd as believing that having a piano makes one a musician.

-sydney j. harris

life does not end in death as death does not end in life

if you don't want my peaches ... don't shake my tree

...BY FAR...THE BEST PART OF THE ILLUSION IS LOVE...

she opened and closed and left no note when she snuck back through the broken window...she has made a habit of shadows...she is as she is

somewhere holding one or another from the edge of disaster, i am waiting for nothing as nothing has waited for me...i see what i see and i touch what i feel when i feel it is in need of touching

so out through the window and up up and away, she flies like love does...just like love

don't forget what you have seen when you doubt who you know that you are in my sight whether darkness or bright...i have seen you.

i have seen you

With your feet I walk
I walk with your limbs
I carry forth your body
For me your mind thinks
Your voice speaks for me
Beauty is before me
And beauty is behind me
Above and below me hovers the beautiful
I am surrounded by it
I am immersed in it
In my youth I am aware of it
And in old age I shall walk quietly
The beautiful trail.

native american prayer translation - navajo tribe

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we subconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

-M Williamson, A Return to Love

isis is
and i was reborn...
she transformed my darkness into light
i opened to her plan
she filled my wholeness with truth
i moved toward her
she moved through me

i am better for isis
i am alive in her

there is an ocean growing within me
i can see much further from in here than ever before
dimly lit and made of sound

i enter the space
she is visible at once
i am facinated, i am amazed
i am hosting the festivities deep within the warmth of my lower abdomen

i hardly know what to say
traversing the space, her small body reveals its contour, its beginnings, its spark
i begin to believe as i never had before
and all is absorbed without tears

i am in love
like the taste of sugar beets and honey
i crave her awareness, her small wiggles
i want to share this space with her
i want to make space for her to grow

i am in love

and so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see: or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read.

-alice walker

O GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conchèd ear:
Surely I dream'd to-day, or did I see
The wingèd Psyche with awaken'd eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couchèd side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied:
'Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian
They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass;
Their arms embracèd, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,
As if disjoinèd by soft-handed slumber,
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:
The wingèd boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?
His Psyche true!

O latest-born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star,
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heap'd with flowers;
Nor Virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet
From chain-swung censer teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.

O brightest! though too late for antique vows,
Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,
When holy were the haunted forest boughs,
Holy the air, the water, and the fire;
Yet even in these days so far retired
From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,
Fluttering among the faint Olympians,
I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired.
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan
Upon the midnight hours;
Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet
From swingèd censer teeming:
Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat
Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.

Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane
In some untrodden region of my mind,
Where branchèd thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,
Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:
Far, far around shall those dark-cluster'd trees
Fledge the wild-ridgèd mountains steep by steep;
And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,
The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep;
And in the midst of this wide quietness
A rosy sanctuary will I dress
With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain,
With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,
With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign,
Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same;
And there shall be for thee all soft delight
That shadowy thought can win,
A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,
To let the warm Love in!

-John Keats, Ode to Psyche

No one told me it would lead to this
No one said there would be secrets
I would not want to know

No one told me about seeing,
Seeing brought me loss
And a darkness I could not hold

No one told me about writing or speaking
Speaking and writing poetry

I unsheathed the sharp edge
Of experience that led me here
No one told me
It could not be put away

I was told once,
Only in a whisper,
-the blade is so sharp, it cuts things together
not apart-

this is no comfort
my future is full of blood
from being blindfold,
hands outstretched,
feeling my way along the firm edge

the sword of the goddess

-david white

mine is the secret that opens upon the door of youth and mine is the cup of the wine of life and the cauldron of cerridwen, which is the holy grail of immortality.
i am the gracious goddess who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man upon earth.
i give the the knowledge of the spirit eternal, and beyond death i give peace and freedom and reunion with those that have gone before...
i who am the beauty of the green earth, and the white moon amongst the stars and the mystery of the waters, and the desire of the heart of man, i call unto thy soul to arise and come unto me.
for i am the soul of nature who giveth life to the universe;
from me all things proceed and unto me all things must return...
i have been with thee from the beginning, and i am that which is attained at the end of desire.

Skadi demanded two things: that they make her laugh and that she be allowed to choose a mate from among them.

The first condition was accomplished by the trickster Loki, who tied his testicles to the beard of a billy goat.

It was a contest of screeching, until the rope snapped and Loki landed, screaming with pain, on Skadi's knee.

She laughed...

The last thing we know about Skadi is that she was the one who positioned the venomous snake over Loki's head after the Aesir bound him.

right view

right intention

right speech

right action

right livelihood

right effort

right mindfulness

right concentration