Friday, 21 December 2007

The Winter of Listening


No one but me by the fire, my hands burning red in the palms while the night wind carries everything away outside.
All this petty worry while the great cloak of the sky grows dark and intenseround every living thing.
What is precious inside us does not care to be known by the mind in ways that diminish its presence.
What we strive for in perfection is not what turns us into the lit angel we desire,what disturbs and then nourishes has everything we need.
What we hate in ourselves is what we cannot know in ourselves but what is true to the pattern does not need to be explained.
Inside everyone is a great shout of joy waiting to be born.
Even with summer so far off I feel it grown in me now and ready to arrive in the world.
All those years listening to those who had nothing to say.
All those years forgetting how everything has it own voice to make itself heard.
All those years forgetting how easily you can belong to everything simply by listening.
And the slow difficulty of remembering how everything is born from an opposite and miraculous otherness.
So let this winter of listening be enough for the new life I must call my own. Every sound has a home from which it has come to us and door through which it is going again out into the world to make another home.
We speak only with the voices of those we can hear ourselves and the body has a voice only for that portion of the body of the world it has learned to perceive.
It becomes a world itself by listening hard for the way it belongs.
There it can learn how it must be and what it must do.
And here in the tumult of the night I hear the walnut above the child’s swing swaying its dark limbs in the wind and the rain now come to beat against my window and somewhere in this cold night of wind and stars the first whispered opening of those hidden and invisible springs that uncoil in the still summer air each yet to be imagined rose.

~ David Whyte ~

(The House of Belonging)

1 comment:

  1. gosh I love that picture, it's the perfect winter-picture!! To bad winter is cold, because it looks so romantic!!

    ReplyDelete

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