SOARINGLY

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And then you will be ready to begin
the most difficult, the most powerful, 
the most fun of all. You will be ready
to fly up and know the meaning of
kindness and love.
quote from Richard Bach’s Jonathan Seagull.

 

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SOARINGLY

Two herons fly
love and life in harmony
wisdom and purity,
Wingtip to wingtip they soar,

Perfection;

Thus to fly, what would we see below,
on our planet of beauty and wealth?
marred by rivers of sadness,
of people dispossessed, broken;

What blessing would it be,
so to float, in unity above;
unrestricted.
Above strife and savagery.

The herons glide down,
gracefully land;
among the reeds by the lake.
Fishing, resting,
Meeting their tribe.

Are they simply like us?
a different embodiment,

With advanced spirituality.

© miriam ivarson

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Note in the Bottle

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Four and a half months now I have had the great pleasure of reaching out to you, dreamers and writers from all continents. To feel the honour of hearing your laughter, sorrow, wisdom and just pure beauty. Thank you for making me so welcome, it means more than you know.

From start I felt uncertain and hesitant. Felt small. I soon learnt that a feeling like that is o.k. and many might have shared the same. What have I of interest to say, we ask.

I now feel the responsibility of giving something that might touch your souls and minds. One thing I promised myself was to write from the heart. The warmth and friendship I have met has buoyed me and given many smiles and tought me much. Thank You! to each and everyone.

Did you ever as young dream of sending a message in a bottle and throw into the sea? I did often and in the end sent two. I dreamt of answers from far away lands, wanted to connect. I am afraid none came and my disappointment was great. 

So, today I give you a poem that came to me when I remembered this dream and somehow via the blog I finally found these answers.

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 Note in the Bottle                                  

Is that all it is?
My scribbled attempts
to convey my thoughts.
If so, I hope the currents,
will bring it to your shores,

That you will read,
feel the bonds that tie man,
tie all living things
in a pulsating whole.
We are not alone,
only lonely at times.

Or is it just solitude?

We share same longings,
same dreams;
For vibrancy, love and truth.
Simply sit by a stream, in a glade,
Hear the fullness of nature’s sounds.

It is not the yachts,
the luxury goods;
not even champagne 
in a limousine,
That will make your soul sing.

How insignificant  we may seem,
and yet;
Without each and everyone
there wouldn’t be a Whole.

© miriam ivarson

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Earth Is Crying

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Earth Is Crying

The Earth is shaking itself,
with storms and quakes
showing its anger and unease,

As dictates and hate
fly between East and West,
murmurs heard from the rest.

Threats of annihilation,
anger that contorts;
ready to slaughter us all,

To satisfy Ego’s tremendous growth.

Do they care in their Citadels?
do they hear?
the screams from dying and dispossessed.

They talk about “Us”,
pretty words, I grant;
How can they sleep at night
with so many lies?

Do they cry or laugh
or feel fear too?

From my peaceful garden I cry,
for the chaos and waste;
the suffering,

How come anger and hate lead,
Why not love?

© miriam ivarson

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Eternal Flow

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Eternal Flow

Like a mountain stream leaps and bounds
growing as it merrily skips,
picking up stones and twigs;
Emerging as a lively course;

Carving its way through rock and moraine
through farmland , past towns;
In time as a mighty river emerges,
for fish and man to enjoy,

Ending in quiet surrender to the Sea
so unfathomable and infinite.

So it is with a newborn child,
helpless but filled with life,
laugher and tears win our hearts;
Tender care guides the growth,

To skip away with friends
each day a lively dance;
picking up knowledge and tools;
understanding creativity.

Maturing in power and strength,
yet falling, stumbling and race,
whilst finding inner stability;
Purpose and wisdom to live.

With time reaching 
the mightiest Sea of all.

© miriam ivarson

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Who Are We

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Gales, hurricanes storms are passing through our lands as Autumn vigorously – too vigorously at times – shakes all in its way.

Cleansing the trees from dead wood, sadly also the live. Picking up a car here and there and depositing them almost playfully upside down. Picking up Oaks, Poplars and Ashes; casually throwing them around. At times on our abodes. 

The sea in its frightening wild dance is doing the same, cleansing itself from debris as it dances with the Wind. Its power is stunning and in awe we stare, silenced. 

One picture from the news stay in my mind. Miami skyline against a huge ominous black cloud. The mighty buildings, the frontage of the city, looking so small and helpless under the ferocity of this force; hunkering down it seems.

So many of us feel fear and helplessness at this awesome display of nature’s strength. How small we can seem in spite of all that has been achieved. 

I wrote a poem a while ago, comparing nature’s way with ours. We are “Oh so clever”, but need to find harmony with our planet. This jewel in the universe.

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Who are we

The ant busily follows the track along
Building its stack high as a hill,
with dedication, purpose and innate skill.
The bird builds whilst singing his song
picking mosses, twigs, building soft and strong.
Butterfly shimmering, hovering quite still
listening to flowers by the rill.
All at peace with where they belong.

Man sets forth with bluster and brain
to conquer and build with might,
not knowing they cause pain.
Ignoring creatures and nature’s plight.
instead, work in harmony, unchained
Sail with the wind, create with delight.

© miriam ivarson

METAMORPHOSIS

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In our writing we draw inspiration and ideas from nature, people we meet and events in our lives. 

Autumn is now entering and as it advances our surroundings are painted in new and glorious hues. Somewhat rudely Autumn also disrobes so many of our trees that for months have been laden with green in so many stunning shades. A total transformation takes place on a daily basis. A show by mother nature to us.

On that note I want to share a poem with you.                                        

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Dancing Leaves

Like happy feathers they danced
The autumn leaves.
gold, brown and red.
Such a happy dance, it seemed;

As if death was not sad at all.

Can’t say I am advanced enough,
to meet death with the beauty, 
Of the leaves.

      Lacking their peaceful surety
      Of after; 
      Of destiny.

            
This morning the trees have given,
a lesson so serene.
Maybe one day I will see death
With the ease and the light of the leaf.

© miriam ivarson

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Angels on my Path

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During five weeks this summer I have had the blessing of a glorious summer break in Sweden. Staying at my Oasis in the forest and on the island of my birth. 

The beautiful nature surrounding me as well as  friends and family have all made each day magic. In the two previous posts I have given you little tasters.

Physically and mentally it has been a healing and enriching time.

Even a potentially dangerous tumble down a steep staircase became a blessing in disguise as I met more angels on the path. Both doctor and nurse gave me hugs filled with care and empathy. 

Apart from listening to the trees, grasses, blooms and rocks whispering their secrets I also met angles. Angels in the shape of people; they made my heart sing.

The strength of us all when we open the sluices to our heart is what will make this shimmering planet whole.

Let the drums from many high places roll. The strength we all possess when we open the flow of love and care is a force greater than shout.

Below is a poem I wrote a while ago when another event really opened my eyes.

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ANGELS

I met an Angel
didn’t know at first;
It had no wings as pictures showed,
Just looked like you and me.

I was in distress and there It was
Only eyes and words set It apart,
She looked calmly into my heart,
The voice was kind and sang of love.

Suddenly stormy waves stilled
My eyes and heart filled with peace,
The boat was on right keel again
On a stormy sea, now becalmed.

How many Angels don’t we meet
In shops, streets, in a Cafe,
You wouldn’t notice at first.
Their eyes are warm and look deep,
you will know you are cared for,                      
You are known.

Their love will lift
With light step we will walk,
They have shown the stars, the moon.
Music from the Spheres fill our hearts
With peace and joy we continue our day,

Having learnt it is kindness
Not wings,
Love and care that is the mark,
The Mark of an Angel on your path.

© miriam ivarson

THE WIND

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Many a wise man has said that you have to leave to see the beauty of the place you came from. To with new force feel what you took for granted – every day.

I loved the island where I grew up and like any child saw it as a natural part of my life. Not remarkable, just home.

I was one of these children who grew amongst these rocks, surrounded by the sea. It was home, it was paradise. Yet, one day I knew I had to move as my dreams hungered for new experiences and vistas.

Yesterday evening as I watched the view before me, it looked wondrous. As if the sea was lit from underneath in an incredible hue and spread its light upwards to the sky. Breath-stopping display of creation beyond our capability.

As I leave the islands today I would like to share with you a poem I wrote yesterday.

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THE WIND

Seagulls dipping and soaring
delighting in the wind;
Knowing their own selves,
Terns displaying their diving skills,

The same summer wind now
so warmly kisses my face,
You charmer I say
how can I resist,

Yet I know well your winter roar,
whipping the ocean with ferocity,
Threatening to swallow
the island where I grew.

Spring comes and shows
you had washed and polished,
rocks of granite to a soft sheen
in pinks, grey with black streaks,

Now smooth and silken to the skin.

Pleasure boats also delight
in your warm flirty breeze;
Skipping joyfully across the squalls.

In winter when we hear
the might of the ocean,
See big ships thrown like toys;
I ask you to desist.

I love you both ways
Dear ocean and wind.

by/ miriam ivarson

OPPOSITES OR ONE

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Darkness and light,
enhancing each other.
Without, our hearts would not
soar so high nor shine;

not having felt fear and grief,
trouble and joy.

Walking the forest I am struck,
gasping at the otherworldly play
Between light and shade.
Mosses in shimmering hues;
lime grey and bright golden greens;

whilst tree trunks throw intricate patterns
of a music score, on forest floor.
The huge roots from fallen pines,
so beautiful in death;

Providing home and food
for creatures that thrive.

 

This leads me to the shades within ourselves, the dark and light of fear, an inherent feeling in all beings.
Albert Camus said: ” There is no love of life without despair of life”.

To find balance and healing we need to leave space in our soul for all the shades. Room for our fears, our joys, our peace, our misery. Room for beauty.

Just accept what is now and let that be so. From such acceptance there might grow a creativity we had no time to see.

As I write this on fluttering pages whilst sitting in the shades of Birch trees I am at one within and without. Beauty surrounds me and serenity. I feel inner peace.
When we find this it might be wise to rest in the harbour for a while and restore wisdom and knowledge of ourselves and life.

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