"At sea I learned how little a person
needs, not how much."
- Robin Graham
------
This Little Light
Some say she is a seeker sailing sanctified seas for serenity.
Some say she savors the searching.
The waves are all separate, new , coming and going
And yet they are of that one great unknown sea.
The wind of that unknown mystical source
Sometimes fills the sails and sometimes the canvas
Stands in stillness and the vessel drifts almost aimless.
No sextant , charts or navigator needed.
A new habit may help, but a new mask will not.
The heart knows where the treasure is and
That eternal spark will light the way.
The greek chorus of bishops of the voyage proclaim ,
"The ocean is our cathedral and sailing our sacrament.
It is how you sail that really matters in the end .
Trust that consecrating wind that lifts the migrating paracletes . "
Sacred sojourners don't sail for accolades or rewards,
It isn't about attachments , owning any thing
Or crossing some arbitrary finish line.
Holes need to be filled, lost spirits
And bodies to be found, fed and sheltered.
Echoes of a humble mother recalls
That everyone , every thing needs love.
Seekers bow to the rising sun and kneel
As the gleam fades over the horizon.
Constant compassion, selflessness, gratitude
And maybe a little light, a poem and a song-
The only real provisions needed for the passage .
- JF Sobecki
--------------------
Some Eternal Spark - Glossary
https://youtu.be/HNC48nWREXgNothing But a Burning Light - B. Cockburn
https://youtu.be/xUqFP3kGMZgTomorrow Never Knows- Beatles
https://youtu.be/O58ouPdjgo0Gotta Be - Desiree'
https://youtu.be/pO40TcKa_5UStill Haven't Found - U2
Any Road - G. Harrison
This Little Light - Odetta
What the World need Now - J. DeShannon
https://youtu.be/YUaxVQPohlUAbove there mountains
The geese turn into
the light again
Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky
Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens
so you can find the one line
already written
inside you.
Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that
first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.
Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out
someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.
You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now
you are arriving.
- David Whyte
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