Speaking of Metta (Loving Kindness)
A Poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952
SHOULDERS
A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.
No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.
This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE.
His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream deep inside him.
We’re not going to be able to live in this world if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing with one another.
The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/shoulders
Hello September!
Song for Autumn
Mary Oliver
In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
Mary Oliver
In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
.....and this poem by Emily Dickenson
Get your fall "trinket on" with us at the Morrison Meditation Center!
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
emily dickinson
Photo is courtesy of The Poetry Foundation
Poem courtesy of https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets
Poem courtesy of https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets
A Permeable Life
Carrie Newcomer From: A Permeable Life: Poems & Essays I want to leave enough room in my heart for the unexpected, For the mistake that become knowing, For knowing that become wonder, For wonder that makes everything porous, Allowing in and out All available light. An impermeable life is full to the edges, But only to the edges. It is a limited things. Like the pause at the center of the breath, Neither releasing or inviting, With no hollow spaces For longing and possibility, I would rather live unlocked, And more often than not astonished, Which is possible If I am willing to surrender What I already think I know. So I will stay open And companionably friendly, With all that presses out from the heart And comes in at a slant And shimmers just below The surface of things. 
Hafiz
My Mother and Your Mother Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I would like to see you living In better conditions, For your mother and my mother Were friends. I know the Innkeeper In this part of the universe. Get some rest tonight, Come to my verse again tomorrow. We'll go speak to the Friend together. I should not make any promises right now, But I know if you Pray Somewhere in this world - Something good will happen. God wants to see More love and playfulness in your eyes For that is your greatest witness to Him. Your soul and my soul Once sat together in the Beloved's womb Playing footsie. Your heart and my heart Are very, very old Friends. transl. by Daniel Ladinsky from The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, the Great Sufi Master |
Rumi's Corner
You have no need to travel anywhere - journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own Light.
Rumi Rumi's Corner
Be empty of worrying, Think of who created thoughts. Why do you stay in prison When the door is so wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking Live in silence. Flow down and down in always widening rings of being. Rumi 
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