Thursday, October 29, 2009

Song Of The Green Way...

Song Of The Green Way...

Green man,
Ancient carved life,
Symbolic derivative dream,
Cast across the living world,
Net and web and cycle,
Born to die to be born,
Circle of seasons stride.

Green spirit,
Life lives in each breast,
Heart touched and tender,
Irrepressible faith,
Understood without thought,
Guide inside to glide,
Soaring forest and low prairie,
Shadow of shade joy.

Green moment,
Beginning embodiment,
First breath and beat,
Universe living now,
Timeless point of creation,
Enduring endeared engendered,
Reflection of spirit unbowed.

Green light,
Surrounds and permeates,
Interwoven magical field,
Visualization creation,
Glow of softnesses' great strength,
Beauty in Mind's unending eye,
Infinity calling.

Green way,
We walk loving mother Earth,
Dancing embracing joyous,
Boundless duty of us all,
Stewards' path soft-trodden,
Winding and wended throughout,
In all that we do we're begotten,
Future and past and mostly NOW.

Green people,
Seeking searching surviving thriving,
Beautiful and wistful and loving,
Tenure to seek and hold,
Touch with caring for all,
Walk softly determined.

Green magic,
Sacred circle unbroken,
Uncorked bottle of higher creation,
World whirled in cosmic mind,
Kindred of the kind,
Splashed from wet earthy fingers,
As gardeners unendingly delight,
Softly keening chant,
Celebrate light life and night.

Green Earth,
Mother and children,
Rocking cradle and grave,
Shining bright life's light.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/29/2009

Words are the mind's bridge - its connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - its connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Walking The Labyrinth...

Saren & I went for an Autumn afternoon visit to Quest book store at the American Theosophical Society headquarters in Wheaton just a bit ago.

I picked up the September & October issues of Mindful Metropolis, the Soul-Heir to our vanished Conscious Choice magazine.

After finishing at the bookstore, we got outside among the giant old trees just turning for Fall. There are huge old Sumac there too. As we were walking to the large labyrinth to walk the spirals in the chill air, I was carrying my cherry-trunk walking staff; the one that I'd burnt the entire Oagham alphabet in with a magnifying glass, seven feet tall.

I caught the unmistakable scent of beeswax on the breeze. Sure enough, the bee keeper was working the hive, harvesting combs I think.

The sky was steely grey and a soft ceiling over us as we walked the paving stones, silent in meditation except for feet on gravel.

Now we're indoors with hot chocolate, Duffy, Norah Jones, Van Morrison, ad other wonderfully mellow songs playing.

What a wonderful, cold, colorful, cocooned day.


A Day At The Beach...

A Day At The Beach...

Sand - soft and giving usually,
Today packed and damp and hard,
Breakers rumbling tumbling rippling rolling,
Ceaseless as the wind in your hair ears eyes face,
Sea gulls climb it screeching swooping gliding turning,
Sky of grey steel blue charcoal ash in constant motion,
Sun faded washed scrubbed over-dubbed clouds,
Grasses waving blowing swaying rustling browning,
Trees whipping bending tapping turning browning,
Leaves flying drifting swirling falling sliding,
Red ones orange ones yellow ones brown ones crinkle and blow and rustle,
Lake Michigan powerful at your feet moving spraying churning.

The only still things driftwood sitting on the dark yellow sand and old footprints.

Autumn is here and it's another day at the beach.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 10/10/2009