thanks giving https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/t2436 Runboard| thanks giving en-us Fri, 29 Mar 2024 08:42:56 +0000 Fri, 29 Mar 2024 08:42:56 +0000 https://www.runboard.com/ rssfeeds_managingeditor@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds managing editor) rssfeeds_webmaster@runboard.com (Runboard.com RSS feeds webmaster) akBBS 60 thanks givinghttps://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p17032,from=rss#post17032https://bdelectablemnts.runboard.com/p17032,from=rss#post17032At the Table You want your fond place at the table You want to be a fellow jolly good "so say we all." I tell you, the table is vastly laden with layers of little memories, which no two see the same. We arrive at the feast hungry for virtue, for love, for forgiveness of our wanton ways; willing to be merry, to partake of ritual, merge through transubstantiation. Constellations, moving, shifting, making waves in collective consciousness, appear to reveal sparkling impulses of truth. On that star marked evening taking in the sweet, evocative air, embracing untranslated joy, something catches in our throats. The song we need so desperately to share can only express in shards. The pain, sucked in with our breath, becomes one with the bread and wine. This is the blood, the body, marinated in salty tears, preserving what has not yet found appropriate release. Again, and yet again meeting, to take sustenance. Hungry battle wounds courageously opening, to imbibe the healing of grace. music of the spheres In quiet night sky while starlight and peace prevail, a haunting rhythm, music of moving spheres, slowly soars, entrances, embraces fear, kisses taunt of pain away. Well into darkness, watching, hoping for a passing meteor to swoop down and carry far into greater space, where kindly constellations tell stories of joy and thanksgiving. Celestial fusion crackles and strains like an old jazz recording. Melodies layered through ages; written on mighty, sacred wind; told like Homeric verse by the wanderers -- heavenly nurturing guides leading us home. Thanks for sharing Thanks for sharing your intimate secrets, guilty despair. "How can anything matter? I am too damaged, dark, no fun to pay admission." It is not a birthday without cake and good wishes. No cure can take hold without a get well card, gift of courage from caring others. No rhyme, no rhythm, no choir – no welcoming into soft healing warmth. Toxic potions, shocking wires, disconnection from harried continuity cannot weave wholeness. Kind reception, open revel in shared humanity etches a loving pattern for integration, faith to dare creative leap. Re-merged, nourished with fuel for healthy fulfillment. ! Multi-hued singing fountains rejoice in new found company. Not in Gratitude Gratitude implies obligation. Lilting beatitude, delight, insightful embrace freely express. Happy in my natural rhythm, receptive to pleasure; balm of luscious nectars, warm melt of radiant bliss, elation, charismatic exultation. I am in awe, a true believer; not on my knees in supplication. Supine, welcoming grace. Giving Thanks Thank you all for being -- as another year unwinds All the hearing, touching, seeing Your shared caring and desires All the fear, sickness and heartache All the joy, infectious smiles Arts in which you kindly partake in all your various styles Dear wishes for a future where convivial peace abides Thank you all for being in my life. Firelight Story Oh my children, not so very long ago, probably in many places still, we lived in communities in which we had pride and dignity. Small enough for everyone to know your name. Large enough to provide diverse resource of skills and personalities. Caring, squabbling, challenging as family. Able to leap beyond petty animosities and find a way when a way must be found. Entrenched in lessons of former days, preparation for breaking future ground. Not just a pretty myth like heroic champions who protect, subtract our sins. Community, adaptive growth within a solid sphere, a social network of mutual support, often said to be what we are here for. (I hear you sneer; you who tear down magic, hope, shared trust.) It could be, community, our prayed for cure (balancing salvation) to the follies of humanity's deadly love of war. Soft sensuous clouds drift and blend as crepuscular iridescent glow descends. Below, welcoming evening lights, drowsy trees, cozy homes, familiar rites. Recall of feasts, merry meets, gift of returning friends evokes deeply desired peace, belonging, generous amends. * Battle wary, ready for rest, to shelter. Close this sorry chapter; relax, restore. No space to listen, reflect, learn how we could peacefully heal. Its all teeth and claws, everyday wars, every night prayers of repent. Every penny spent to hold back the blame, shame, certainty that all paths forward lead to more of the same. Earth spins; we want answers that assure us yes, so wise, we are Messiah’s promised. I give you a bubble of better days. Ease of peace in contemplation, bliss of transcendent imagery, artful conversation. Breathe. Feel complete if only for this moment. nondisclosed_email@example.com (libramoon)Wed, 26 Nov 2014 16:02:36 +0000