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The Heart of Haiku (Kindle Single)

No 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

I understood immediately that certain things—attention, great energy, total concentration, tenderness, risk, beauty—were elements of poetry. And I understood that these elements did not grow as grass grows from a seed, naturally and unstoppably, but rather were somehow gathered and discovered by the poet, and placed inside the poem. —Mary Oliver

Bill Morgan • The Meditator's Dilemma: An Innovative Approach to Overcoming Obstacles and Revitalizing Your Practice

"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

A beautiful poem by Mary Oliver. The last line is 🔥 When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox; when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the... See more

I rose this morning early as usual, and went to my desk. But it’s spring, and the thrush is in the woods, somewhere in the twirled branches, and he is singing… I am touching a few leaves. I am noticing the way the yellow butterflies move together, in a twinkling cloud, over the field. And I am thinking: maybe just looking and listening... See more

SOMETIMES by David Whyte Sometimes if you move carefully through the forest, breathing like the ones in the old stories, who could cross a shimmering bed of leaves without a sound, you come to a place whose only task is to trouble you with tiny but frightening requests, conceived out of nowhere but in this place beginning to lea... See more

We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.

T.S. Eliot • The Essential T.S. Eliot

💭 This poem by Mary Oliver

“The Gardener”

Have I lived enough?

Have I loved enough?

Have I considered Right Action enough, have I

come to any conclusions?

Have I experienced happiness with sufficient gratitude?

Have I endured loneliness with grace?

I say this, or perhaps I’m just thinking it.

Actually, I probably think too much.

Then I step out into the gar... See more