I have several friends in their 40s and
50s who are embarking on very new seasons of their lives, right here and
now, at spring time when the fecundity of life and earth are our
ever-present companions. I like to think that most of us deeply feel
that movement inside of all living things with the longer days and the
rebirth of the warm season here in the northern hemisphere.
The journeys that my friends are taking are varied and unique, yet I am struck by one overriding component of their lives, renaissance.
Transitional moments, renewal, embarkation.
I love these women with all of my heart and I am tremendously moved by their journeys, individual and remarkable and disparate.
This morning, a morning of celebration for the renewal of the season, my friend Laura posted this on her Facebook page and I found it incredibly beautiful. Sharing.
EASTER MORNING IN WALES
A garden inside me, unknown, secret,
neglected for years,
the layers of its soil deep and thick.
Trees in the corners with branching arms
and the tangled briars like broken nets.
The journeys that my friends are taking are varied and unique, yet I am struck by one overriding component of their lives, renaissance.
Transitional moments, renewal, embarkation.
I love these women with all of my heart and I am tremendously moved by their journeys, individual and remarkable and disparate.
This morning, a morning of celebration for the renewal of the season, my friend Laura posted this on her Facebook page and I found it incredibly beautiful. Sharing.
EASTER MORNING IN WALES
A garden inside me, unknown, secret,
neglected for years,
the layers of its soil deep and thick.
Trees in the corners with branching arms
and the tangled briars like broken nets.
Sunrise through the misted orchard,
morning sun turns silver on the pointed twigs,
I have woken from the sleep of ages and I am not sure
if I am really seeing, or dreaming,
or simply astonished
walking towards sunrise
to have stumbled into the garden
where the stone was rolled from the tomb of longing.
EASTER MORNING IN WALES From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems, © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
In some way, many of us are entering into our own renaissance at this time of year as our lives expand, transform, harmonize with the clean, cool season. I feel it deep inside, pushing through the muddy earth, as it pokes its head into the crisp air. New projects and interesting enterprises have entered my life and I feel fortunate and excited at their possibilities.
morning sun turns silver on the pointed twigs,
I have woken from the sleep of ages and I am not sure
if I am really seeing, or dreaming,
or simply astonished
walking towards sunrise
to have stumbled into the garden
where the stone was rolled from the tomb of longing.
EASTER MORNING IN WALES From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems, © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
Photo © David Whyte 2014
Sun Through Sycamores
Sun Through Sycamores
In some way, many of us are entering into our own renaissance at this time of year as our lives expand, transform, harmonize with the clean, cool season. I feel it deep inside, pushing through the muddy earth, as it pokes its head into the crisp air. New projects and interesting enterprises have entered my life and I feel fortunate and excited at their possibilities.
Today I celebrate that renewal process
and I hope that you are experiencing
the freshness of the morning in your life.
Do you feel it in your life?
Can you sense something budding
silent, furtive, affirming?
Can you sense something budding
silent, furtive, affirming?
Dedicated to the beautiful Laras and Lauras in my life.