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Posts Tagged ‘beauty’

fledglinghuntingWhen despair for the world grows for me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake rests,
in his beauty on the water,
and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things,
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief,
I come into the presence of still water,
and I feel above me the dayblind stars,
waiting with their light,
for a time, I rest in the grace of the world,
and am free.

(”The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry)

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If you don’t like ants–if ants give you ants in your pants, do not watch this video.
It’r right out of Weird Theatre, which means, naturally, I like it.
I like it a lot.

ant-views from Jörg Brönnimann on Vimeo.

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These are real photographs, not paintings (From the Beauty Files)

Portland Head Light, Sunrise

portland

Sunrise, Rockland Harbor, Maine

sunriseSunrise, Kailua Beach

ocean

Red Dragon
red dragonSummer Solstice Sunset,
Kittery Point Harbor, Maine,
Pix by photographer Richard VanWort,
Visionquestphotography.org
VanWArt

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The Good Samaritan

The Good Samaritan

strong>Words of wisdom from Philo of Alexandria, a first century Jewish philosopher, with commentary by jitterbugger, a 21rst century guy:

“BE KIND, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle,” Philo said.

And, indeed, life is hard, so hard that some moments–some hours, days, weeks or months or even years–it’s such a struggle as to feel like a “great battle” being waged within our very souls.
We need all the kindness we can get.
The people we encounter need all the kindness they can get.
I’m doing the best I can each and every day, and so are you, and so are our friends and loved ones and coworkers and bosses and the people stuck in traffic and the strangers in the elevator who quietly have a million thoughts or concerns or worries or anxieties spinning around in their heads.
We’re all doing the best we can, and we’re all broken people in need of God’s grace.
“Be kind.”

Therefore as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other, and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.
Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts . . . “

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(For Adam McKay)

Holy holy holy Lord
holy holy holy

for everything that lives is holy
everything that is, is holy
in its early innocence
as a clear and shining stream
a child or lamb at play in the early sun;
in wholeness too of honey
lovely leaning earth
or father welcoming a long-lost son

Holy holy holy Lord
holy holy holy
World is full of glory
Praise Praise

Blessed are those who love the turning earth
who celebrate the sun and air
and seek a true creative god

Blessed are those who find each other’s good
who share and generate their joys
and care, through pain and weakness

Blessed are those who strive for justice, peace
who keep the fires of hope alight
in a world of dark and danger

Blessed are those who transcend fear
who live abundantly in face of death
and look for the life to come

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“Beauty will save the world” — Doestevsky

So many fantastic colors: Pretty pictures by photographer Lawrence Paiken:

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Beauty will save the world.”
—- Doestevsky

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Happy Friday from jitterbuggingforjesus.com & Satchmo

calmnessbigstockphoto_Heaven_3092770px-Louis_Armstrong_restored

I see trees of green, red roses too,
I see them bloom, for me and you.
And I think to myself… what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue, and clouds of white,
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night.
And I think to myself… what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky,
Also the faces of people going by.
I see friends shaking hands, say how do you do?
They’re really saying, I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow,
They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know.
And I think to myself… what a wonderful world.

Yes I think to myself… what a wonderful world.

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rarindaFrom the portfolio of photographer Rarindra Prakarsa, Indonesia.

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bigstockphoto_Bible_With_Ribbon_Bookmark_431250I hear it all the time at the hospital from people laid low by severe illness: “The Lord must be punishing me for something I did” with whatever disease or malady the hospital patient has.
I point out to them that the Bible has something to say about that:

The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far he removes our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him.
— Psalm 103: 8-18

If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
therefore you are feared.
— Psalm 130: 3-4

But I tell you: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that your may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”
— Matt. 5:44-45

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
— Lamentations 3:22-23

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2008-2-8-mary-oliver-hi-resWild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

© Mary Oliver
——
“Thirst”

Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the hour
and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
a little more time. Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowly learning.

— Mary Oliver, Thirst,
——-

“Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject Of Faith”
Mary Oliver

Every summer
I listen and look
under the sun’s brass and even
into the moonlight, but I can’t hear

anything, I can’t see anything —
not the pale roots digging down, nor the green
stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And still,
every day,

the leafy fields
grow taller and thicker —
green gowns lofting up in the night,
showered with silk.

And so, every summer,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing —
I am deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,

the tapping of downwardness from the banyan feet —
all of it
happening
beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And, therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt

swing through the air.
How could I look at anything in this world
and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?
What should I fear?

One morning
in the leafy green ocean
the honeycomb of the corn’s beautiful body
is sure to be there.

—————
“Morning Poem”

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches —
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead —
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging —

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted —

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

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