Laine's Blog, Thinking Out Loud

Go Placidly...

 

Does anyone remember this?

 

You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

 

That worthiness is the thing that was missing in my early years.

There is a book that has convinced me that I am equally deserving of my life

as anyone or anything in the universe -

that the universe spawned everything and everyone to this moment and beyond -

each of us unique and meant to be here!

 

 

 

 

 

The book, is THE GREAT WORK, OUR WAY INTO THE FUTURE, by Thomas Berry

In this book you find the amazing story of the indigenous peoples of the Americas and how they revered their place in nature and the universe, and had deep respect for all life.

"Desiderata" was translated by Max Ehrmann in 1927

 

 

 

 

Wonder!

 

Small Wonders

 

Snails together on

the sidewalk, two tiny snails, one

larger - Mother and son? Sisters?  Brothers? Friends?

 

Where are they going?

Together?!

 

 

 

 

Golden Sun...

 

 

There are songs that we sang forever

and perhaps never noticed the poetry of the lyrics,

like this line:

..a drop of golden sun.

From which song?

?

 

 

 

 

Thanks to J.M. Akers - The song is from "The Sound Of Music", ...do a dear a female dear, ray - a drop of golden sun!

Reprinted from June 2013 from LainesBlog

©LaineQuinn

It's A Lie...

 

It is a lie - any talk of God

that does not

comfort

you.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem by Meister Eckhart, 13th century mystic, translated by Daniel Ladinsky.

From the Penguin publication, Love Poems From God, Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West.

Copyright © 2002 Daniel Ladinsky and used with his permission.

 

Re-Posted from Laine's Blog, November 2012

 

It is a lie - any talk of God

that does not

comfort

you.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem by Meister Eckhart, 13th century mystic, translated by Daniel Ladinsky.

From the Penguin publication, Love Poems From God, Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West.

Copyright © 2002 Daniel Ladinsky and used with his permission.

 

Let The Autumn Light Reach You

 

What nourishes you

in the middle of a Pandemic?

 

What nourishes you

when political forces take a dark turn

and plunge us into a past that should be long forgotten?

 

 

For me it is Poetry -

Poetry and Music that soothe my soul

and the beauty all around me -

flowers still blooming in our Florida gardens and

the angle of the sun in the trees at a certain time of day,

and of course the beach!

And happy dogs and peaceful cats!

And friends, young and old!

 

Let the autumn light reach you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

©2021 Laine Quinn, photo of Spanish Moss in Live Oaks at Washington Oaks State Park.

 

 

 

Happy Faces!

 

 

My, oh my! What more

Can I say; seeing lilies

On the peaceful walk?

 

 

 

Surprise lilies in the neighborhood!

©2020Laine Quinn

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Praise of the Ocean...

 

 

"The shore means many things to many people. Of its varied moods

the one usually considered typical is not so at all.

The true spirit does not reside in the gentle surf that laps

a sun drenched bathing beach on a summer day.

Instead, it is on a lonely shore at dawn or twilight,

or in storm or midnight darkness that we sense a mysterious something

that we recognize as the the reality of the sea.

 

 

For the ocean has nothing to do with humanity.

It is supremely unaware of man..."

 

And the ocean was there at the beginnings of life on earth,

spawning all that we know and recognize as our world,

over many many millions of years.

 

 

"Everything in that scene caused me to feel apart,

remembering that the relation of birds to the sea

is rooted in millions of years,

that man came but yesterday."

 

 

 

 

 

Rachel Carson, quoted from the book LOST WOODS The Discovered Writing of Rachel Carson, edited by Linda Lear.

 

Photos Credit, © Laine Quinn White Crest, Wellfleet Mass.

and Dark Sky, Herring Cove, Provincetown Mass.

and Black Skimmers, Vilano Beach, St. Augustine Fl.

 

 

What Greed Has Wrought...

 

 

The hungry, greedy, insatiable snake,

eating its own tail

has gotten to the head.

 

What will he do next?

                                                               Laine Quinn

 

 

 

 

 

Poets...

 

 

Ecola

 

I walked by the sea-creek side.

The wind laughed, the gulls cried.

Sweet water lapped on the salt sand

between the deep sea and the deep land.

                                                Ursula K. LeGuin

 

Years ago, Joseph Campbell told us that the poets would save us.

 

I begin to understand.

 

 

 

From Ursula K LeGuin's book of poems, "Late in the Day."

Joseph Campbell, in his series, "The Power of Myth."

Photo of St. Augustine Beach, ©2020LaineQuinn

 

 

Grateful...

 

From the book of poems, BLUE HORSES by Mary Oliver

 

...Bless the words with which I try to say

what I see, think, or feel.

With gratitude for the grace of the earth.

The expected and the exception, both.

For all the hours I have been given to

be in this world.

 

The multiplicity of forms! The hummingbird,

the fox, the raven, the sparrow hawk, the

otter, the dragonfly, the water lily! And

on and on. It must be a great disappointment

to God if we are not dazzled at least ten

times a day.

...

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

 

 

 

From the poem Good morning

Egret at the inlet taking flight! ©2019 Laine Quinn

 

I'd Forgotten...

 

 

I'd almost forgotten that daffodils were my Mom's favorite flower.

She'd be 100 this year,

if she had survived her difficult challenges -

impending divorce, depression, alcoholism.

Back in the 70's it was all behind closed doors.

 

I'll never know her as a wise old woman,

but as a woman,

who loved the ocean,

daffodils,

and her home.

 

I'd almost forgotten about the daffodils,

but then

I didn't

forget.

 

 

 

 

For my mom, Nancy T. Quinn, born April 12, 1918.

The daffodils are from my recent trip to the mountains in North Carolina, and yes, it snowed! And the daffodils bounced back by the afternoon! © Laine Quinn 2018.

I've been working on something...

 

...and then I came across this little gem and wanted to share it.

 

 

"...more peaceful than morning."

 

 

 

Unwrapping a delivery at the Gallery where I work, I spotted this. No photo required!

 

 

 

 

In Honor of Poetry...

 

 

A Favorite Poem

 

For the Anniversary of My Death

By W. S. Merwin

 

 

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day   

When the last fires will wave to me

And the silence will set out

Tireless traveler

Like the beam of a lightless star

 

Then I will no longer

Find myself in life as in a strange garment

Surprised at the earth

And the love of one woman

And the shamelessness of men

As today writing after three days of rain

Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease

And bowing not knowing to what

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Found at the Poetry Foundation, along with this...

 

Merwin was once asked what social role a poet plays—if any—in America. He commented: “I think there’s a kind of desperate hope built into poetry now that one really wants, hopelessly, to save the world. One is trying to say everything that can be said for the things that one loves while there’s still time. I think that’s a social role, don’t you? ... We keep expressing our anger and our love, and we hope, hopelessly perhaps, that it will have some effect. But I certainly have moved beyond the despair, or the searing, dumb vision that I felt after writing The Lice; one can’t live only in despair and anger without eventually destroying the thing one is angry in defense of. The world is still here, and there are aspects of human life that are not purely destructive, and there is a need to pay attention to the things around us while they are still around us. And you know, in a way, if you don’t pay that attention, the anger is just bitterness.”