Thank you all for the wonderful readings you share at the Conference. Please add yours below in the Comments section.
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Thank you all for the wonderful readings you share at the Conference. Please add yours below in the Comments section.
The Northfield Conference 
What a great idea and thanks. If you read something at Sacred Circle I think this spot is the perfect place to share it.
We sang together Laurence Cole’s song “Be Kind.”
“Be kind. Everyone carries a heavy load.” Il share Laurence’s website below where you can hear the song and many others.
Here’s Laurence’s website and the song: laurencecole.com/album/be-kind/
With love to all, Kate
The poem that was read at Connie C-W’s memorial service was Mary Oliver’s “In Blackwater Woods.” Here is a link to the whole poem https://wordsfortheyear.com/2014/03/28/in-blackwater-woods-by-mary-oliver/
Here is the movie I made to honor Connie’s memory, that was constructed around this poem https://vimeo.com/266159755
The second half of the poem is what I read at Sacred Circle:
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
The poem that was read at Connie C-W’s memorial service was Mary Oliver’s “In Blackwater Woods.” Here is a link to the whole poem https://wordsfortheyear.com/2014/03/28/in-blackwater-woods-by-mary-oliver/
Here is the movie I made to honor Connie’s memory, that was constructed around this poem https://vimeo.com/266159755
And the second half of the poem is what I read at Sacred Circle:
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
some of the readings I shared in Morning Meditation and elsewhere, 2018:
“Forget about enlightenment.
Sit down wherever you are
And listen to the wind singing in your veins.
Feel the love, the longing, and the fear in your bones.
Open your heart to who you are, right now,
Not who you would like to be.
Not the saint you’re striving to become.
But the being right here before you, inside you, around you.
All of you is holy.
You’re already more and less
Than whatever you can know.
Breathe out, touch in, let go.”
― John Welwood
Just Like That
And just like that, they’re gone
Leaving a space in your heart
Which swells to bursting, then
Dripping out the sides of your eyes
When you least expect it…
When laughter takes you
By surprise
When the sun slips over the horizon
When the lilacs scintillating scents return
The insidious signs of spring’s insistence.
Let us not forget to say
Thank you
For this space,
this time,
this breath.
Here.
And now.
For just like that, they are gone.
Marybeth Hallinan
June 7, 2018
Birdwings
Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror
up to where you’re bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence
is in every small contracting and expanding,
the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
as birdwings.
–Rumi
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
e.e. cummings
and here it is, set to music and sung by Western Winds:
The Well of Grief
Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface of the well of grief
turning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear, nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown away by those who wished for something else.
By David Whyte from Close to Home