When my friend (Kerri) died, I looked at her face...thinking, "She is not here." Yet she lived in the words of the eulogy written by her husband. He asked, "Did you (ever) know her? She read stories to the children, and every night after they were asleep she went out and knelt in the backyard under the stars." If we wish to know where soul exists, look to where one puts one's energy. Life lived well is a transformative art, and art is what we do for the love of doing it. All living art is about spirit and life making soul.
Listen to old stones for information about survival. What a seashell has to say will surprise you. So, too, will words written on the wind. Listening to silence is hardest of all. You want to fill it up with conversation ... distractions ... noise. Resist the impulse. In silence, you can dream great dreams. You can discover your own music. Listening means hearing the voice within you. It never fails to tell you the truth, even if you don't want to hear it.
May you
Learn to be at home with yourself without a hand to hold.
Learn to endure isolation with only starts for friends.
For,
Happiness comes from understanding unity.
Love arrives on the footprints of your fear.
Beauty arrives from ashes of despair.
Solitude brings the clarity of still waters.
Wisdom completes the circle of your dreams.
The rock strengthens me.
The river rushing through me
Cleanses
Insists
That I keep moving toward
A distant light
A quiet place
Where I can be
Continuous
And in rhythm with
The song of summer
That you have given me.
~ from MANY WINTERS by Nancy Wood and Frank Howell with thanks to Paula Davis
