Laurie of Hello World SF and I are in process of creating a new expression and way of relating through this site.
Last Sunday we sat around a table in the front courtyard of the Unitarian Church. Its large brick walls protected us from most of the wind, whose laying so long ago was taken with such care each positioned so exactly on the other. We listened to intermittent traffic and our voices speaking of faith. Some of us were Buddhist others seeking God, or just this; our talking together of a knowing, a connection, or a new love which has opened the mind to something so much bigger and â€¦ that attending to the sound of our lives. A sangha friend asked me today as we were buying spray to de- mould my newly arrived furniture, did I sing. Yes I said but not in tune, so it is mostly a private affair. But listening, that I can do everywhere. To you, to â€¦â€¦
Mary Oliver said it this way:
â€¦.I came, like a red bird to sing
But I am not a red bird with his head mop of flame
And the red triangle of his mouth
Full of tongue and whistles
But a woman whose love has vanished
who thinks now, too much of roots
And the dark places
Where everything is simply holding on
But this too, I believe, is a place
Where God is keeping watch
Until we rise, and step forth again and-
But wait. Be still. Listen!
Is it red bird? Or something
Inside myself singing!
(The Red Bird, Poems by Mary Oliver)