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12 Responses to “Conversations”

  • Anonymous says:

    Maybe…just maybe
    the breeze knows
    when he puckers his mouth
    and blows……
    he will kiss the grass
    into thousands of
    touching blades
    ….and maybe
    the grass knows too…

    Wendy Robertson Fyfe

  • Anonymous says:

    What/who might be waiting in you to grow and spread across a beautiful new clear dawn of a new year. How might you cultivate what is there in you……What is hungry enough in you to move towards flight? What might be arriving at this time?
    Warmly inviting Conversations with this wild Iona dawn….
    Wendy Robertson Fyfe (thinking also of David Whyte’s words)

  • Wendy says:

    You, darkness, of whom l am born –
    I love you more than the flame
    that limits the world
    to the circle it illumines
    and excludes all the rest.

    But the darkness embraces everything:
    shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
    people, nations – just as they are.

    It lets me imagine
    a great presence stirring beside me.

    I believe in the night.

    Rainer Maria Rilke
    From Book of Hours
    Translation by Joanna Macy and Anita Burrows

  • Wendy says:

    “You are not leaving,
    you are arriving.”
    From ‘The Journey’
    David Whyte

  • Wendy says:

    I am
    Your clay.

    Within Your glowing folds
    l am
    drawn down
    pulled down
    sliding down
    slinking down.
    Rock bottom.

    Within Your glowing folds
    l am
    drawn up
    rising up
    climbing up
    pulled up
    stepping up.

    Within Your glowing folds
    l am
    falling down
    yanked down
    rolling down
    laying down.

    Within Your glowing folds
    l am
    quavering at the edges;
    meeting Your voice again.

    Wendy (Scotland)

  • Kay Young, Scotland says:

    June – Call of Peony

    I will not die an unlived life
    I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire
    I choose to inhabit my days to allow my living to open me
    To make me less afraid, more accessible
    To loosen my heart
    So that it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.
    I choose to risk my significance, to live
    So that which came to me as seed
    Goes on as blossom
    And that which came as blossom
    Goes on as fruit

    From Dawna Markova

  • Kay Young, Scotland says:

    April’s Call of Volcanic Rock, Holy Island.

    “Remember to breathe, remember to feel, remember to care.
    Remember life. Let us do this together
    for ourselves and our children and our children’s children”

    From Sharing Silence, Gunilla Norris

  • wendyrf says:

    Call of Waterfall, Zion, Utah

    Ones on the edges of the world,
    falling downward
    falling upward
    falling inward
    falling outward
    and the Ones not yet moving….
    toward surrender,
    l hear your cry
    l hear your song
    moving me….

    Wendy Robertson Fyfe

  • Wendy says:

    An invitation to you to participate in February’s Call of Desert, Anza Borrego. Has the desert called to you this month……maybe drawing you down into the path towards the great plain and the mountain that look so near and yet distance betraying……maybe you are repelled and drawn away…..maybe you are being stalked by the spirit guardian to the left…or you are stalking the guardian….maybe the winter sharpness of ground’s branches pierce you…and meanwhile the day’s heat burns…maybe you imagine a lizard scuffling across the sand to find a warm stone…or hear a humming bird before seeing it flash across….. or maybe you hear the cry of coyote….or your own….or…..

  • Mary Marsden says:

    Each morning….
    we could,
    I could,
    I might
    if I can bare to risk it
    position myself in such a way as
    to be momentarily
    stunned or blinded,
    made suddenly vulnerable to the new day
    and what it will ask of me.
    Maybe vulnerable like Moses, when he saw the burning bush?

  • Kay Young, Scotland says:

    “And then the knowledge comes to me that I have space
    within me for a second, timeless, larger life”.

    From Rilke, “I Love My Being’s Dark Hours”

  • Call of morning, Zion, Utah.

    I hear the depth of your silence.
    I see your immensity;
    your dazzling bright light
    exposing your stark darkness.
    l feel your gravitas,
    stop, pay attention.
    Remembering you, l remember who l am.
    I honour the moment.

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