Posted: February 27, 2014 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: blogging, books, Cassilda's Song, freshly pressed, HBO, life, Literature, musings, Popular Culture, reading, Robert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow, True Detective, writing
Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
Strange is the night where black stars rise,
And strange moons circle through the skies
But stranger still is
Songs that the Hyades shall sing,
Where flap the tatters of the King,
Must die unheard in
Song of my soul, my voice is dead,
Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed
Shall dry and die in
- “Cassilda’s Song” The King in Yellow Act 1, Scene 2 – Robert W. Chambers
Posted: January 2, 2014 Filed under: Random Workout, Yoga | Tags: Arts, blogging, Book, compassion, fitness, free range, freshly pressed, happiness, health, kindness, life, Literature, love, motivation, musings, Omaha, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Poetry, Romanticism, yoga
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.
How can I call the lone night good,
Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight?
Be it not said, thought, understood—
Then it will be—good night.
To hearts which near each other move
From evening close to morning light,
The night is good; because, my love,
They never say good-night.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
Posted: December 19, 2013 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: American, art, blogging, christmas, compassion, family, free range, freshly pressed, friends, happiness, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, holidays, kindness, life, Literature, love, meditation, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, passion, perspective, Poetry, simplicity, World Literature, writing, yoga
After so long an absence
At last we meet again:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?
The tree of life has been shaken,
And but few of us linger now,
Like the Prophet’s two or three berries
In the top of the uttermost bough.
We cordially greet each other
In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown!
We speak of a Merry Christmas
And many a Happy New Year
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.
We speak of friends and their fortunes,
And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
And the living alone seem dead.
And at last we hardly distinguish
Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
Steals over our merriest jests.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Posted: December 12, 2013 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: Arts, blogging, compassion, Derek Walcott, fitness, free range, freshly pressed, friends, happiness, health, hope, kindness, life, Literature, love, Love After Love (poem), meditation, motivation, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, passion, perspective, pilates, Poetry, Prose, relationships, Romance, simplicity, writing, yoga
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Posted: November 28, 2013 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: advice, blogging, compassion, Earth, exercise, family, fitness, free range, freshly pressed, friends, gluten free, happiness, Happy Thanksgiving, health, holidays, hope, Literature, natural, nature, Omaha, Poems, Poetry, Religion and Spirituality, running, Shakespeare, Sonnet, Thanksgiving, whole foods, William Shakespeare, yoga
What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new.
Speak of the spring and foison of the year,
The one doth shadow of your beauty show,
The other as your bounty doth appear;
And you in every blessed shape we know.
In all external grace you have some part,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart.
- William Shakespeare
Gobble – Gobble my Dear Readers!