31 May 2010

Painted Islands of Summer Lilies


Every morning the world is created.
Under the orange sticks of the sun
the heaped ashes of the night turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches
and the ponds appear like black cloth
on which are painted islands of summer lilies.

If it is your nature to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails for hours,
your imagination alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit carries within it
the thorn that is heavier than lead
if it's all you can do to keep on trudging,
there is still somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth is exactly what it wanted ,
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not you have ever dared to pray  
- from Dream Work by Mary Oliver


E ala mai 'o loko i ke kuhohonu o ke Aloha


28 May 2010

♪♫•¨•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•¨•♫♪ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♪♫•¨•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•¨•♫♪

Earth Song

I heard the spring wind whisper
Above the brushwood fire,
The world is made forever
 Of transport and desire.
 I am the breath of being,
 The primal urge of things;
 I am the whirl of star dust,
 I am the lift of wings.

I am the splendid impulse
That comes before the thought,
The joy and exaltation
Wherein the life is caught.
Across the sleeping furrows
I call the buried seed,
And blade and bud and blossom
Awaken at my need.

Within the dying ashes
I blow the sacred spark,
And make the hearts of lovers
To leap against the dark.
I heard the spring light whisper
Above the dancing stream,
The world is made forever
In likeness of a dream.

I am the law of planets,
I am the guide of man;
The evening and the morning
Are fashioned to my plan.
I tint the dawn with crimson,
I tinge the sea with blue;
My track is in the desert,
My trail is in the dew.

I paint the hills with colour,
And in my magic dome
I light the star of evening
To steer the traveller home.
Within the house of being,
I feed the lamp of truth
With tales of ancient wisdom
And prophecies of youth.

I heard the spring rain murmur
Above the roadside flower,
The world is made forever
In melody and power.
I keep the rhythmic measure
That marks the steps of time,
And all my toil is fashioned
To symmetry and rhyme.

I plow the untilled upland,
I ripe the seeding grass,
And fill the leafy forest
With music as I pass.

I hew the raw, rough granite
To loveliness of line,
And when my work is finished,
Behold, it is divine!

I am the master-builder
In whom the ages trust.
I lift the lost perfection
To blossom from the dust.

Then Earth to them made answer,
As with a slow refrain
Born of the blended voices
Of wind and sun and rain,

 This is the law of being
That links the threefold chain:

The life we give to beauty
Returns to us again.
poetry by: Bliss Carman (1861-1929)

Photography Prints


Natural Impressions

14 May 2010

Earth Voices

Earth Voices 

If the Earth were only a few feet in diameter, floating a few feet above a field somewhere, people would come from everywhere to marvel at it. People would walk around it, marveling at its big pools of water, its little pools and the water flowing between the pools. 

 People would marvel at the bumps on it, and the holes in it, and they would marvel at the very thin layer of gas surrounding it and the water suspended in the gas. The people would marvel at all the creatures walking around the surface of the ball, and at the creatures in the water. 

The people would declare it precious because it was the only one, and they would protect it so that it would not be hurt. The ball would be the greatest wonder known, and people would come to behold it, to be healed, to gain knowledge, to know beauty and to wonder how it could be.

 People would love it, and defend it with their lives, because they would somehow know that their lives, their own roundness, could be nothing without it. If the Earth were only a few feet in diameter - Author unknown quoted from Paul Winter's "Earth Voices of a Planet"   1990, Earth Music Productions

13 May 2010

This is My Symphony

Arising from her jewelled bower,
Dawn steps from out the flaming sky,
And in her hand are hopes that flower,
And at her feet the hours that die.
And ere the darkest shadows fall,
Sweet Evening comes from twilight lands,
And pours her peace upon us all,
And touches us with healing hands  - poetry by L.D.


What is Love 
Love is the scent with the lotus born.
It is the silent choirs of petals Singing the winter's harmony of uniform beauty.
Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.
It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets - sun and moon lit
In the sky hall festooned with fleecy clouds
Around the sovereign Silent Will.

It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays
And blush red with life.
'tis the promptings of the mother earth
To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots,
And to nurse all life.

It is the urge of the sun
To keep all things alive.
Love is the unseen craving of the Mother Divine
That took the protecting father form,
And that feeds helpless mouths
With milk of mother's tenderness.
It is the babies' sweetness,
Coaxing the rain of parental sympathy
To shower upon them.

It is the lover's unenslaved surrender to the beloved
To serve and solace.
It is the elixir of friendship,
Reviving broken and bruised souls.
It is the martyr's zeal to shed his blood
For the well-beloved fatherland.
It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another heart.
It is the God-drunk poet's heartaches For every creature's groans.

Love is to enjoy the family rose of petal-beings,
And thence to move to spacious fields
Passing by portals of social, national, international sympathy,
On to the limitless Cosmic Home
To gaze with looks of wonderment,
And to serve all that lives, still or moving.
This is to know what love is.

He knows who lives it.
Love is evolution's ameliorative call
To the far-strayed sons To return to Perfection's home.
It is the call of the beauty robed ones
To worship the great Beauty.

It is the call of God
Through silent intelligences
And starburst of feelings.

Love is the Heaven Toward which the flowers, rivers, nations, atoms, creatures you and I
Are rushing by the straight path of action right,
Or winding laboriously on error's path,
All to reach haven there at last. - from: Songs of the Soul by Paramahansa Yogananda

09 May 2010

ENIGMA - SITTING ON THE MOON

The World is Your Mirror

The good you find in others, is in you too.
The faults you find in others, are your faults as well.
After all, to recognize something you must know it.
The possibilities you see in others, are possible for you as well.
The beauty you see around you, is your beauty.
The world around you is a reflection, a mirror
showing you the person you are.
To change your world, you must change yourself.
To blame and complain will only make matters worse.
Whatever you care about, is your responsibility.
What you see in others, shows you yourself.
See the best in others,
and you will be your best.
Give to others,
and you give to yourself.
Appreciate beauty,
and you will be beautiful.
Admire creativity,
and you will be creative.
Love,
and you will be loved.
Seek to understand,
and you will be understood.
Listen,
and your voice will be heard.
Teach,
and you will learn  - author unknown

Aloha e Malama pono,

Sharon Mau
The Heart Within the Art
All rights reserved universewide 

Journey with Spirit


06 May 2010

Aloha kaua, I wish you a bright and shiny day :))

"Metaphysics is an aspect of spirituality that concerns the study of the nature of being, existence, time, space, and causality. It bridges the gap between science and faith. By studying metaphysical spirituality you can explore the development and enrichment of your own philosophy of true being." AIHT

Prayer is the key of the morning and the bolt of the evening ~ Mahatma Gandhi




http://fineartamerica.com/displayartwork.html?id=849780&width=250&height=166

03 May 2010

01 May 2010

Whatever We Focus On Becomes Our Reality

Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect  - Chief Seattle, 1855

Photography Prints 

These Islands - Danny Couch lyrics