I gather quotes like flowers, inhale, exhale, the freshness of words vibrating in spring air.
Hildegard of Bingen: “You are a flowering orchard.”
How clear that seems in spring. There’s one particular bird – a little guy who sings and chirps continuously from one tree and then another. His song wraps around me, entwines, dissolving what divides.
Carl Jung: Where insight rules beyond differences, all the pairs of opposites come together.
Rilke: Do not be bewildered by the surfaces – in the depths all becomes law.
Rumi: Open your hands if you want to be held.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning: He lives most life whoever breathes most air.
Marion Woodman: The crone is the maturing of the feminine, in both men and women. Here, there is no concern with power, nothing left to lose. The crone finds herself a tuning fork among others, bringing them into center.
Can this tiny singing bird be a crone? I center in the sounds.
Annie Dillard asks, What does it feel like to be alive? And answers: Living, you stand under a waterfall.