All wild things in the universe point to the real you.

Today on the winter Solstice, I rediscovered this Robert Bly poem. So glad I did. Immediately, I became immense, shifting into spaciousness. It's from a tremendous book, 'Silence in the Snowy Fields.'

Silence. Poetry. Music. Breathing. There are so many ways to remember, to feel, to know, to be that one thing; the truth of our being.

 photo from Robert Bly Film Facebook page

photo from Robert Bly Film Facebook page

Repost from Robert Bly: A Thousand Years of Joy

Poem in Three Parts

Oh, on an early morning I think I shall live forever!
I am wrapped in my joyful flesh,
and the grass is wrapped in its cloud of green.

Rising from a bed where I dreamt
Of long rides past castles and hot coals,
The sun lies happily on my knees;
I have suffered and survived the night,
Bathed in dark water, like any blade of grass.

The strong leaves of the box elder tree,
Plunging in the wind, call us to disappear
Into the wilds of the universe,
Where we shall sit at the foot of a plant,
And live forever, like the dust.

- from 'Silence in the Snowy Fields'