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Night Tears


เคยรู้สึกไหม
ว่าความเจ็บปวดทั้งหลายที่ทิ้งตะกอนในชีวิตเรา
มันมักจะถูกกวนให้หมุนวนในหัวเราในเวลากลางคืน
ยามที่เหลือแต่เรากับความมืด
ความคิดพาเราไปไหน
ความเจ็บปวดที่ผ่านมา ที่ดูเหมือนถูกบดบังหรือกลบเกลื่อน
ด้วยความวุ่นวานของชีวิตประจำวัน
ลอยวนกลับเข้ามาตอกย้ำในยามนี้
จนราวกับว่ากระดูกซี่โครงถูกแหวกเปิดออก
เหมือนที่บทกวีนี้บอกไว้
แต่พร้อมกับความเจ็บปวดนี้
คือบทเรียนของชีวิตที่กระซิบสอนเราระหว่างหยดน้ำตา
อย่าเสียใจไปเลย
ถ้าโชคดีพอ เราอาจได้ลิ้มรสความเจ็บปวด
ชนิดที่ไม่มีวันเยียวยา
บาดแผลที่เป็นเหมือนครู
ที่จะพร่ำสอนเราไปตลอดชีวิตนั่นเอง





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There is a crying
that happens at night
that does not come
while the light is with us.
There are things that cannot
be evaded
once the sun goes down.
Small nocturnal creatures
with sharp white teeth
silently gnaw at the edges of
belly and heart
when the darkness descends
and the void inside
grows larger.

It can split you open.

And the bone
in the centre of your chest
aches
like the cracked wishing bone
from the turkey breast.

And if we are strong enough
to be weak enough
we are given a wound
that never heals.
It is the gift
that keeps the heart open.



Oriah Mountain Dreamer © 1995





 

Create Date : 30 ธันวาคม 2547    
Last Update : 20 กุมภาพันธ์ 2552 16:30:02 น.
Counter : 119 Pageviews.  

The Dance



I have sent you my invitation,
the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living.
Don’t jump up and shout, “Yes, this is what I want! Let’s do it!”
Just stand up quietly and dance with me.

Show me how you follow your deepest desires,
spiraling down into the ache within the ache,
and I will show you how I reach inward and open outward
to feel the kiss of the Mystery, sweet lips on my own, every day.

Don’t tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart.
Show me how you turn away from making another wrong without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.

Tell me a story of who you are,
and see who I am in the stories I live.
And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.

Don’t tell me how wonderful things will be . . . some day.
Show me you can risk being completely at peace,
truly okay with the way things are right now in this moment,
and again in the next and the next and the next. . .

I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring.
Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall,
the place you cannot go beyond by the strength of your own will.
What carries you to the other side of that wall, to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?

And after we have shown each other how we have set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that help us live side by side with each other, let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving
those we once loved out loud.

Take me to the places on the earth that teach you how to dance,
the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart.
And I will take you to the places where the earth beneath my feet and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.

Show me how you take care of business
without letting business determine who you are.
When the children are fed but still the voices within and around us shout that soul’s desires have too high a price,
let us remind each other that it is never about the money.

Show me how you offer to your people and the world
the stories and the songs
you want our children’s children to remember.
And I will show you how I struggle not to change the world,
but to love it.

Sit beside me in long moments of shared solitude,
knowing both our absolute aloneness and our undeniable belonging.
Dance with me in the silence and in the sound of small daily words,
holding neither against me at the end of the day.

And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest
intentions has died away on the wind,
dance with me in the infinite pause before the next great inhale
of the breath that is breathing us all into being,
not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.

Don’t say, “Yes!”
Just take my hand and dance with me.


© บทกวีโดย Oriah Mountain Dreamer,
จากหนังสือ The Dance, สำนักพิมพ์ HarperSanFrancisco, 2001








 

Create Date : 30 ธันวาคม 2547    
Last Update : 20 กุมภาพันธ์ 2552 16:32:31 น.
Counter : 91 Pageviews.  

The Call



I have heard it all my life,
A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.

Sometimes it comes as a soft-bellied whisper.
Sometimes it holds an edge of urgency.

But always it says: Wake up my love. You are walking asleep.
There's no safety in that!

Remember what you are and let this knowing
take you home to the Beloved with every breath.

Hold tenderly who you are and let a deeper knowing
colour the shape of your humanness.

There is no where to go. What you are looking for is right here.
Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.

There is no waiting for something to happen,
no point in the future to get to.
All you have ever longed for is here in this moment, right now.

You are wearing yourself out with all this searching.
Come home and rest.

How much longer can you live like this?
Your hungry spirit is gaunt, your heart stumbles. All this trying.
Give it up!

Let yourself be one of the God-mad,
faithful only to the Beauty you are.

Let the Lover pull you to your feet and hold you close,
dancing even when fear urges you to sit this one out.

Remember- there is one word you are here to say with your whole being.
When it finds you, give your life to it. Don't be tight-lipped and stingy.

Spend yourself completely on the saying.
Be one word in this great love poem we are writing together.


© บทกวี โดย Oriah Mountain Dreamer,
จากหนังสือ The Call, พิมพ์โดย Harper Collins, 2003





 

Create Date : 30 ธันวาคม 2547    
Last Update : 20 กุมภาพันธ์ 2552 16:37:12 น.
Counter : 99 Pageviews.  

The Invitation




It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

© บทกวี โดย Oriah Mountain Dreamer,
จากหนังสือ The Invitation พิมพ์โดย HarperSanFrancisco, 1999




 

Create Date : 30 ธันวาคม 2547    
Last Update : 30 ธันวาคม 2551 1:11:41 น.
Counter : 127 Pageviews.  


wilted_flower
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