David Sparenberg's Blog (62)

Our father

who art in heaven

our mother

who wanders among us

holy and homeless

hallowed be your names

(vessels

of essence, seedbeds

of archetypes and angels).

May your dream of us

be fulfilled in the

earth-sphere as it is

in the creative imagination

and revealed to us

here within the miraculous

work of this living earth:

a prophetic…

THOMAS BERRY DREAMER OF THE EARTH: The Spiritual Ecology of the Father of Environmentalism, edited by Ervin Laszlo and Alan Combs, A Worldshift Book published by Inner Traditions, 144 pp, $14.95

What Arne Naess is to the foundations of Deep Ecology, Matthew Fox to Creation Spirituality and Theodore Roszak to a…

Whenever I come upon a pure talking stone, a bird’s feather, a shell from the surging sea, I take it up, I lift it up, I say the word-sound Hey-ya-tah-ho.

I do not know if this is a word from one of the many languages of the Earth. Surely that is possible, but I do not know. Arising from my soul, honoring relationships, in my…

Hey, turn around! If you want to know who I am, look and listen.

I no longer want to hear only what everyone is hearing. I no longer want to see what everyone else only sees. I wan to hear the primal voices, the ancient whispers, the songs and silences, ignored but waiting—sustained by heartdrums in choral…

To all of the good mothers, wives & lovers everywhere: a Blessed Mother’s Day.

Of all the women of this world, you are the one who must be; through you the mystery and beauty of woman continues.

Of all the mothers of this world, you…

Flash forth in diverse forms!

Be as expressive as thunder and lightning Know too when to be silent and invisible for this too is of the mystery But do not fear yourself aligned and attuned in the rough and rapture of at-onement with the power and mystery of creation…

Look all around—

it is beautiful!

Even heavy cloud

on the east

bears a promise of rain.

Many white birds

float on calm sea waters.

Blackbirds of trees

delight in the sky.

Here

under human feet

a green voice of the Earth

ascends

and is singing.

Lovely

the daylight’s kisses… Look

—it is beautiful!

David Sparenberg

4 March 2012

If you are dreamed of

then you are gold in the alchemy of dreams

If you are imagined

then you are the sculpting of imagination

If you are touched

then heaven and earth are poetry

following the curvature of your motion

If you are loved

love is fulfilled in your body and soul:

the swollen cherry and the blood orange

in the bough

the light of night’s

infinite wheeling stars

When I listen to the quiet

embracing the peace of wild…

Speak into your darkness.  Do not be afraid of the echo when it returns to you.  Are you sleepless because you have heard yourself weeping?  There is so much still to be learned by playing with the games of shadows.  Evolution is a mystery not soon to be mastered.  And the wand of time is not skillfully in our hands.

Sometimes those who ascend the stairs of knowing seem small and on their knees, and their lips are silent.  But how utterly disarming when a robin sings or leaf flutters…

Do we dare to live the life of freedom, responsibility, maturity and the dialogical affirmation of mutuality? Do we dare to be the change we desire? Will we come together in the late twilight to be the sacred activism and the shaping of God into prayer that is an embracing compassion and our deliverance from the addictions of greed and violence, ignorance, hatred and fear?…

THE YOUNG

Young men and dreamers, young women, bold and beautiful—be joyous in your frolic and meditations. Beside the smiling of your sunlit fields the shadow of death glowers. Do not fall into the blackhole of time. If you must shed your courage, drop clear beads of gold into the common…

Soul is a presence alchemic inside. At home in twilight, it lives between light and shadow. Soul is not purely and only light.

It loves the sway of umber-bark trees, danced mantic by wild wind, shapes of stones, the little whispers of water in motion, the ephemeral beauty of moth and butterfly, the tender, whispering joy of flowers,…

Bad men made trouble. They brought a bomb to where a bomb never should be: they exploded the bomb. People died; many people. Whether or not they were innocent people may be a matter of viewpoint, perspective, valuation. Apparently those randomly killed were committing no crimes at the time when the bomb exploded—in the moment of their murders. (All those sudden ghosts, no doubt, in a storm of fatal fire were…

I am given a minute shut my eyes one sightless silent minute now of subjective time time for inner travel time travel for shaman flight…



I enter the world first of breathing breath



goes deep life slows down a leisurely pace breath easily supports…