Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
... See moreNo one can love you enough. Build a shelter for the flies and the wasps instead. Make houses for the rats and the owls and the bluebirds. Sit for hours in the shade and watch how these tiny citizens move, floating or drifting or scrabbling over stones, swooping or creeping in rings of shadow, rings of light. Make space inside your liquid heart for
"Lost" [by David Wagoner]
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees
... See moreTilicho Lake by David Whyte
In this high place
it is as simple as this,
Leave everything you know behind.
Step toward the cold surface,
say the old prayer of rough love
and open both arms.
Those who come with empty hands
will stare into the lake astonished,
there, in the cold light
reflecting pure snow,
the true shape of your own face.
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostl
... See moreDanusha Laméris • Poem: Small Kindnesses (Published 2019)
Now moons decline and rise, Dead metaphors that looked alive. And you about to die Out past the water-clock of tides Naming and renaming your desires. You rode in wind And scarred the cheek Like the edge of an autumn leaf. I put you in your hollow ship With wine and bread to drift The wine-dark sea. You put me In my hollow ship. A memorized part of
... See moreRay Nayler • The Mountain in the Sea
Mary Oliver Wild Geese
phys.unm.edu
So that was the season of light. Stooping always over it, like a schoolmaster trying to catch me out in an act of enjoyment, was the season of darkness.
I can no longer pretend that the winter is fine. I have tried to tell myself that the country is not dead, but resting and regrouping, stroking the inchoate life inside it, and that that's what is h
... See moreOne by Mary Oliver The mosquito is so small it takes almost nothing to ruin it. Each leaf, the same. And the black ant, hurrying. So many lives, so many fortunes! Every morning, I walk softly and with forward glances down to the ponds and through the pinewoods. Mushrooms, even, have but a brief hour before the slug creeps to the feast, before the p
... See more