Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘David Whyte’

house20of20belonging20-2

 

It doesn’t interest me if there is one God
or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel
abandoned,
if you can know despair or see it in others,
I want to know
if you are prepared to live in the world
with its harsh need
to change you. If you can look back
with firm eyes,
saying this is where I stand. I want to know
if you know
how to melt into that fierce heat of living,
falling toward
the center of your longing. I want to know
if you are willing
to live, day by day, with the consequence of love
and the bitter
unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even
the gods speak of God.

~David Whyte~
RIVER FlOW: New and Selected Poems

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Sometimes

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Sometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest,

breathing
like the ones
in the old stories,

who could cross
a shimmering bed of leaves
without a sound,

you come
to a place
whose only task

is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests,

conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.

Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and

to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,

questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,

questions
that have patiently
waited for you,

questions
that have no right
to go away.

~David Whyte~
River Flow: New and Selected Poems

Read Full Post »

heart-rose-5x71

I am appending below a portion of what I discovered on David Whyte’s Facebook wall yesterday.  I think there’s a wide variance of emotions that come up during the holidays, especially for those who have had a loved one transition.  But beyond that, heartbreak, is something we all go through, it’s a natural consequence of living life with an open, yet vulnerable heart.  Perhaps our true work isn’t to heal heartbreak, as much as it is to embrace that we have all been inescapably and forever touched by the tender, outstretched hands of life.

“Heartbreak is inescapable; yet we use the word heartbreak as if it only occurs when things have gone wrong: an unrequited love, a shattered dream, a child lost before their time. Heartbreak, we hope, is something we can avoid; something to guard against, a chasm to be carefully looked for and then walked around; the hope is to find a way to place our feet where the elemental forces of life will keep us in the manner to which we want to be accustomed and which will keep us from the losses that all other human beings have experienced without exception since the beginning of conscious time. But heartbreak may be the very essence of being human, of being on the journey from here to there, and of coming to care deeply for what we find along the way…”

From the upcoming Third Readers’ Circle Essay,
‘HEARTBREAK’
©2013 David Whyte

Read Full Post »

winter_OK

No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every little thing.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire.

What disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.

Even with summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.

All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.

All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.

And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.

Silence and winter
have led me to that
otherness.

So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own.

We speak
only with the voices of those
we can hear ourselves
and the body has a voice
only for that portion
of the body of the world
it has learned to perceive.

And
here
in the tumult
of the night
I hear the walnut
above the child’s swing
swaying
its dark limbs
in the wind
and the rain now
come to
beat against my window
and somewhere
in this cold night
of wind and stars
the first whispered
opening of
those hidden
and invisible springs
that uncoil
in the still summer air
each yet
to be imagined
rose.

~David Whyte~
River Flow: New and Selected Poems

Read Full Post »

grains4

 

This week’s inquiry … courtesy of my teacher and mentor, Jean Haner.  Months ago, she posted it on her Facebook page as part of a longer piece.  The question felt so compelling that I wrote it down, and thought to share it with you today.

“What if the only thing wrong with you, is that you think something is wrong with you?”

Partnering today’s question is the following quote from David Whyte*:

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

*stay tuned, as my next post later this week, will be the poem, in its entirety, that this was pulled from.

 

Read Full Post »

36

 

Recently I was gifted an audio of David Whyte’s spoken poetry set to music, and I adored it.  I realized among all the poetry books I own, I had none of his, so I ordered one.  It’s so hard to choose one poem, so I may post more of his poems in the near future.

As I write, Panhala, a poetry group I have subscribed to for years is on sabbatical and it may be permanent, so I may have to fill my cup (and perhaps, yours) with the swell of the human heart spilling out onto these pages.

Inside this sitting here: ---
this mind pulling knees up
           close to the chest
           with tense hands.

Inside this
movement of anxiety for the body
and its worries of money
and its teeth grinning falsely
to the solution of all things surrounding

is the seed
and the hands pressing down into the soil
and the dreams of generation
in the seed about to wake.

Tonight I will sleep with my worries
through dreams dark with soil
and the heavy cataclysm of the spade
turning earth round me
not speaking of air
or light fused with greenness
but of darkness
and the first leaves
like hands in prayer
clasped inside the seed.

~David Whyte~
River Flow: New and Selected Poems
“INSIDE”

Read Full Post »