What a road the Cold Mountain road!
Not a sign of horse or cart.
Winding gorges, tricky to trace.
Massive cliffs, who knows how high?
Where the thousand grasses drip with dew,
Where the pine trees hum in the wind.
Now the path’s lost, now it’s time
For body to ask shadow: ‘Which way home?’
Words from Cold Mountain
No matter that my heart sinks,
sighs, with the weight of skeletons-
paths I forgot to follow
have slowly sealed
rooms go unrecognised
for fear of change
and I cry at the uncertainty of rainbows.
All the daydreams I stole,
refusing to give them back
are stored as silver dust
and each day is a small breath.
VALERY ROAD RALEIGH. IZZY’S LAST RUN.
“What you’ve done becomes the judge of what you’re going to do – especially in other people’s minds. When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.”
William Least Heat Moon
Naku te rourou nau te rourou ka ora ai te iwi
With your basket and my basket the people will live
Again referring to co-operation and the combination of resources to get ahead. This proverb can be very useful and is often said.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
If you called yourself a milk mushroom, get into the basket .
I want my life to be a mountain stream that rushes down wild flowered slopes through pine glades into green valleys, I do not want culverts to contain my force or cement to channel my flow, nothing to break my life’s course with roots, stones and sand.
– Lowell McMullin
An Easterly scribbles havoc
There’s a broken light for every heart on Broadway.
There’s a broken heart for every light on Broadway.
Jewish Blessing of the Mourners
Those who are worn out and crushed by this mourning, let your hearts consider this:
this is the path that has existed from the time of creation and will exist forever.
Many have drunk from it and many will yet drink.
As was the first meal, so shall be the last.
May the master of comfort comfort you.
Blessed are those who comforts the mourners.
foto of the urunga footbridge in nsw australia at the mouth of the kalang and bellinger rivers into the pacific ocean
Gumbaynggirr by Travis Blair
“Gather round me children
There’s a story I’ll tell you,
A story about our heritage
A place where we go for a chew.
This place once looked so different
Mangrove trees and river gums,
An abundance of fishing
I encouraged friends to come.
We’d go fishing for Flathead
With our bottle lines and dough
Trying our skills not to tangle
Our lines but we’d have a go.
As we fished the sun shone
We shared our stories and dreams
Hoping our children would continue
Our tradition and what it means.
The white man thought it was better
Destroying my family’s sacred place
Removing all trees and making it a park
And calling it a “community space”.
How can it be a community space?
When the families have left
The place lonely and uninviting,
It hurts inside my chest.
How can my children learn about
Their culture and family?
The laws of survival, the Dreaming
And becoming more manly.
The white man they say “sorry”
yet I still feel sadness and sorrow
I have let down my ancestors
But yet we’ll still live with it tomorrow.
Read more: http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/gumbaynggirr#ixzz2noeD48LI
foto – sandy from new york who saves brumbies in brierfield australia
“I? I am the wind,’ said Thowra. ‘I come, I pass, and I am gone.’ The strange feathers moved up and down, the strange voice said tartly: ‘And are your sons the same?’ ‘My son is the lightning that strikes through the black night. My grandson is light that pierces the dark sky at dawning.’ ‘Ah,’ said the first emu, ‘and we know your daughter is the snow that falls softly from above and clothes the world in white. You want but the rainbow — that is and was and never will be, and is yet the promise of life — and the glittering ice which is there and is gone: then you and your family will possess all magic.”
― Elyne Mitchell, Silver Brumby Kingdom
― George Eliot, Middlemarch
A swing grinds on its chains.
A child sits pushing.
There’s no eucalyptus,
atlas pine, or flowering ash,
no other child is calling
from the tender modulations of leaves:
just each note
of her ringing hear,
the feeling of being pushed
into the air.
Native American Zuni
A leopard is chasing us and do you ask me: ‘is it a male or female?’
Chief Ten Bears
There is a road in the hearts of all of us, hidden and seldom travelled,
which leads to an unknown, secret place.
The old people came literally to love the soil,
and they sat or reclined on the ground with a feeling of
being close to a mothering power.
Their teepees were built upon the earth
and their altars were made of earth.
The soul was soothing, strengthening, cleansing and healing.
That is why the old Indian still sits upon the earth instead of
propping himself up and away from its life giving forces.
For him, to sit or lie upon the ground is to be able to think more deeply
and to feel more keenly. He can see more clearly into the mysteries of
life and come closer in kinship to other lives about him.
Chief Luther Standing Bear
― William Nicholson
I suggest that the only books that influence us are those for which
we are ready, and which have gone a little farther down our particular path
than we have yet got ourselves. ~ E. M. Forster
“When you think yours is the only true path you forever chain yourself to judging others and narrow the vision of God. The road to righteousness and arrogance is a parallel road that can intersect each other several times throughout a person’s life. It’s often hard to recognize one road from another. What makes them different is the road to righteousness is paved with the love of humanity. The road to arrogance is paved with the love of self.”
― Shannon L. Alder
“Even though you may want to move forward in your life, you may have one foot on the brakes. In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Release the fear. Refuse to entertain your old pain. The energy it takes to hang onto the past is holding you back from a new life. What is it you would let go of today?”
― Mary Manin Morrissey
The monkey and gorilla may claim oneness but the monkey is Monkey and the gorilla, the Gorilla.
― Joss Whedon
If you feel that you do not belong somewhere you should not go there. Also, if you are unable to do something, you should not do it.
“Like a parakeet, that says what he knows but doesn’t know what he says”
“Kindness is tenderness. Kindness is love, but perhaps greater than love…Kindness is good will. Kindness says, “I want you to be happy.”