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Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air - An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air with its black beak? Did you hear it, fluting and whistling A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall Knifing down the black ledges? And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds - A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river? And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for? And have you changed your life? ~The Swan by Mary Oliver |
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My dancing is not an attempt to interpret life in the literary sense.
It is an affirmation of life through movement. - Martha Graham 
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It was dragging my hands along its belly, loosing the bit and wiping the spit from its mouth that made me a snatch of grass in the thing’s maw, a fly tasting its ear. It was touching my nose to his that made me know the clover’s bloom, my wet eye to his that made me know the long field’s secrets. But it was putting my heart to the horse’s that made me know the sorrow of horses. Made me forsake my thumbs for the sheen of unshod hooves. |
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And in this way drop my torches. And in this way drop my knives. Feel the small song in my chest swell and my coat glisten and twitch. And my face grow long. And these words cast off, at last, for the slow honest tongue of horses. -Becoming a Horse by Ross Gay |
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In the black furror of a field I saw an old witch-hare this night; And she cocked a lissome ear, And she eyed the moon so bright, And she nibbled of the green; And I whispered "Whsst! witch-hare," Away like a ghostie o’er the field She fled, and left the moonlight there. ~ The Hare by Walter DeLa Mare |
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For Tarot readings please contact Jessamyn Grace at 503-791-5657 or info@jessamyngrace.com
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Not with the lips of skin nor yet with the lips of dark snow
But let the white dove sing Of the body of life of the lover whose love is complete Hold hands out to greet ah let not the swan be brought low For all that is moving is moved by her hands She is mirrored forever in the life of the lands In the building of thoughts in the shifting sands Life, life remembering... Well here you are now o now you are here Well how has it been so far The hair and the fur Lemons, frankincense, and myrrh For all that is moving is moved by her hands She is mirrored forever in the life of the lands In the building of thoughts in the shifting sands Let the cracked crystal raindrop be merged in the sea Silent shining thoughtless free |
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But close your eyes to find the golden flower
And open them to see the sunshine shower Where the flowers are free and the fishes ask Ah what can water be? She beareth thought she beareth visions Speaking truth in contradictions Dreams of pain dreams of laughter And every action follows after O second self o gate of the soft mystery I'll love you if you'll love me; o guide me With the gold of Gabriel's wing grant me the tongue That all the earth does sing Vibrating light forever one the sun The book of life is open to us There'll be no secrets left between us ~Three is a Green Crown, The Incredible String Band |
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When the Way prevails under heaven, swift horses are relegated to fertilizing fields. When the Way does not prevail under heaven, war-horses breed in the suburbs. |
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No guilt is greater than giving in to desire, No disaster is greater than discontent, No crime is more grievous than the desire for gain. |
Therefore, Contentment that derives from knowing when to be content is eternal contentment.
Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching, Chapter 46 - Translated by Victor H. Mair (1943-)
*Above Photo by Space Studios, Background Photo by Kimerlee Curyl
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Viens sur mon coeur, âme cruelle et sourde,
Tigre adoré, monstre aux airs indolents; Je veux longtemps plonger mes doigts tremblants Dans l’épaisseur de ta crinière lourde; Dans tes jupons remplis de ton parfum Ensevelir ma tête endolorie, Et respirer, comme une fleur flétrie, Le doux relent de mon amour défunt. Je veux dormir! dormir plutôt que vivre! Dans un sommeil aussi doux que la mort, J’étalerai mes baisers sans remords Sur ton beau corps poli comme le cuivre. |
Fire Woman by Darren Orange
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Pourengloutir mes sanglots apaisés
Rien ne me vaut l’abîme de ta couche; L’oubli puissant habite sur ta bouche, Et le Léthé coule dans tes baisers. À mon destin, désormais mon délice, J’obéirai comme un prédestiné; Martyr docile, innocent condamné, Dont la ferveur attise le supplice, Je sucerai, pour noyer ma rancoeur, Le népenthès et la bonne ciguë Aux bouts charmants de cette gorge aiguë Qui n’a jamais emprisonné de coeur. ~ Le Léthé by Charles Baudelaire |
Many of the paintings on this site are by Darren Orange , further exploration of his works is encouraged.