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THE MORNING POEM
Whistling Swans
Do you bow your head when you pray or do you lookup into that blue space?Take your choice, prayers fly from all directions.And don’t worry about what language you use,God no doubt understands them all.Even when the swans are flying north and makingsuch a ruckus of noise, God is surely listeningand understanding.Rumi said, There is no proof of the soul.But isn’t the return of spring and how itsprings up in our hearts a pretty good hint?Yes, I know, God’s silence never breaks, but isthat really a problem?There are thousands of voices, after all.And furthermore, don’t you imagine (I just suggest it)that the swans know about as much as we do aboutthe whole business?So listen to them and watch them, singing as they fly.Take from it what you can.
by Mary Oliver
Get full access to Tea and Zen - Threads at teaandzen.substack.com/subscribe
In the quiet between heartbeats a whisper calls you home, you are not broken you are becoming. These threads of silence and sound are letters from the threshold, offerings from the edge of stillness. Nigel TEA AND ZEN - MAIN LIBRARY
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By Nigel LottWhistling Swans
Do you bow your head when you pray or do you lookup into that blue space?Take your choice, prayers fly from all directions.And don’t worry about what language you use,God no doubt understands them all.Even when the swans are flying north and makingsuch a ruckus of noise, God is surely listeningand understanding.Rumi said, There is no proof of the soul.But isn’t the return of spring and how itsprings up in our hearts a pretty good hint?Yes, I know, God’s silence never breaks, but isthat really a problem?There are thousands of voices, after all.And furthermore, don’t you imagine (I just suggest it)that the swans know about as much as we do aboutthe whole business?So listen to them and watch them, singing as they fly.Take from it what you can.
by Mary Oliver
Get full access to Tea and Zen - Threads at teaandzen.substack.com/subscribe
In the quiet between heartbeats a whisper calls you home, you are not broken you are becoming. These threads of silence and sound are letters from the threshold, offerings from the edge of stillness. Nigel TEA AND ZEN - MAIN LIBRARY
DONATE