Complacent Fat Man

“When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
Arrived at the mountain-top
He cried: “Woe to my knowledge!
I intended to see good white lands
And bad black lands—
But the scene is grey.”

Stephen Crane

 

A woman, the phoenix

lips 3

“I loved them in the way one loves at any age — if it’s real at all — obsessively, painfully, with wild exaltation, with guilt, with conflict; I wrote poems to and about them; I put them into novels (disguised of course); I brooded upon why they were as they were, so often maddening, don’t you know? I wrote them ridiculous letters. I lived with their faces. I knew their every gesture by heart. I stalked them like wild animals. I studied them as if they were maps of the world — and in a way, I suppose they were.” She had spoken rapidly, on the defensive… if he thought she didn’t know what she was talking about! “Love opens the doors into everything, as far as I can see, including and perhaps most of all, the door into one’s own secret, and often terrible and frightening, real self.”

-May Sarton, Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing

I have always been given the opportunity to be myself, love myself, seek for self.  Though the chances have been there…it is the society surrounding my inner world that has harnessed my power.  It is only through faith in the goodness of self expression that both the external universe and the internal…have begun to believe in a partnership of creativity.  All women have powers untapped.  It would be amazing to see us reach 90 percent of our full potential.

In between today and tomorrow…there are big bites of love! Relish the moment

The Phoenix Again

On the ashes of this nest
Love wove with deathly fire
The phoenix takes its rest
Forgetting all desire.

After the flame, a pause,
After the pain, rebirth.
Obeying nature’s laws
The phoenix goes to earth.

You cannot call it old
You cannot call it young.
No phoenix can be told,
This is the end of the song.

It struggles now alone
Against death and self-doubt,
But underneath the bone
The wings are pushing out.

And one cold starry night
Whatever your belief
The phoenix will take flight
Over the seas of grief

To sing her thrilling song
To stars and waves and sky
For neither old nor young
The phoenix does not die.