How I go to the woods.......

 Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend,

for they are all smilers and talkers and, therefore, unsuitable.

I don't really want to be witnessed talking to the carbirds or hugging

the old black tree. 

I have my way of praying, as you know doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible.

I can sit on the top of the dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds,

until the foxes run by unconcerned.

I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.

If you have ever gone in the woods with me,

I must love you very much.

Mary Oliver

The grasshopper

Who made the world?
Who made the swan and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean --
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face,
now she snaps her wings open and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is,
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass,
how to knell in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields- which I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done.
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver

The Broken World Awaits You

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.
All things will break.
And all things can be mended.
Not with time, as they say, but with intention.
So go.
Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.
The broken world waits in the darkness
For the light that is you.

L.R. Knost

Great Mystery,
Teach me how to trust my heart,
my mind,
my intuition,
my inner knowing,
the senses of my body,
the blessings of my spirit.

Teach me to trust these things,
so that I may enter my sacred space
And love beyond fear,
And thus walk in balance with the passing of each glorious sun.

Wakan Tanka