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Selkie Girl by Jessica Shirley with kind permission
All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

No One Knew the Name of This Day ~Easter 2014

FREESIAS  © 2008 THOM BROMMERICH with kind permission

No One Knew the Name of This Day
by John O’Donohue
No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.
The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outward.
We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.
Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.
So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.
-John O'Donohue
Have a Wonderful Easter Everyone!
May You Be Safe
May You Be Well,
May You Be Happy,
May You Be at Peace,
May You Feel Loved and Supported,
And May Life Rise Up to Meet You!
~(Loving Kindness Meditation learned at a retreat. The original third line is “May you be Free from Suffering”)
~Noelle Renee
Orange Tulips© 2008 THOM BROMMERICH
Love alone is capable of uniting living beings in such a way as to complete and fulfill them, for it alone takes them and joins them by what is deepest in themselves.
~Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
For other Postcards from Paradise See Recuerda mi Corazon! Happy Easter!!
Bach Air by Libera Boys Choir

Friday, April 18, 2014

The Soul Exists (Good Friday)


This is the first, wildest and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists, and that it is built entirely out of attention.
~Mary Oliver

Photo taken by Istvan Kerekes ©2014 and reposted here with kind permission from the photographer. Click on the photographer's name to go to his site. Thank you. 

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Thursday, January 9, 2014

Speak To Us Of Children

Babe in Purple George Koruth© 2011 George Koruth
"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said,
'Speak to us of Children.'
And he said:
'Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable."
~From "The Prophet"By Kahlil Gibran
Mary and Clark
May The Welcome Love of Your Newly Arriving Child
be a Rich and Constant Blessing to You.
~Noelle
1.9.14

Kate Rusby : Who Will Sing Me Lullabies?

About The Photographer
George Koruth
George Koruth is a Travel and Documentary photographer based in India. His collection captures India's rich culture and traditions. One of his specialties is street photography. Be it a smiling child or a wrinkled old woman, you will find a unique collection of faces here. He also loves to showcase social issues and hopes his photographs can give a voice to those people who don't have any say in this world. George has done work for international magazines and websites and has been featured in Indian magazines.
You may find more of his wonderful work  at :
http://georgekoruth.500px.com
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m2digital
The  copyrighted images above were posted with the Photographer’s permission. All Rights Are Reserved. Thank you.
 




Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Burning the Old Year

2-bittersweet©2014Bittersweet” by Ursula I. Abresch posted with kind permission
 Burning the Old Year
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.  
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,  
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammable,  
lists of vegetables, partial poems.  
Orange swirling flame of days,  
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,  
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.  
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,  
only the things I didn’t do  
crackle after the blazing dies.
 
“New Year’s Day is Every Man’s Birthday.” ~Charles Lamb.
New Year’s Buddhist Metta Prayer
May you  be well, happy and safe.
May you be free from suffering and at ease with pain.
May you live in peace and harmony with all beings.
May you accept with understanding and wisdom the events in your life and world.May you forgive others and yourself for the inevitable harms we cause each other.
May you experience and manifest loving kindness, compassion, joy and equanimity
.
Peace and Light in 2013

About The Photographer: Ursula I. Abresch
Ursula is a photographer in the West Kootenays, in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. She was born in Argentina, raised in both Argentina and Chile. She moved to the USA to attend university, and eventually moved permanently to Canada. Ursula is married. She and her husband have five children. She has a degree in Education with a concentration in Art and History. She now dedicates most of her time to photography. (information taken from her website directly).


















Monday, December 30, 2013

Birthday Post: Into the Cutting Edge of the Sky

Black-shadows-a24188299Black Shadows   ©2013 milan malovrh
Should I dream you afraid so that
you are forced to save yourself?
Or should you ride colored horses
into the cutting edge of the sky
to know that we're alive --
we are alive.
~Joy Harjo, SoulTalk Song Language.
Special thanks to Milan Malovrh for his beautiful work for this repost on my birthday ~ Dec. 30, 2013

Alone © 2013 Milan Malovrh

Into the New Year
She rode on a Shadow Horse
Thinking She Might Fly.
~Noelle Renee

~~
About the Photographer:
Milan Malovrh hails from Trzic, Slovenia. Photography is his primary hobby for which he has a deep passion. He loves Lippizaner horses! You will find more of his heavenly works and many images of these beautiful White Angels on 1x.com. You may also visit his homepage on 500px.com.












Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Nativity ~ Gertrude Kasebier (redux)



(c) 1901 Gertrude Kasebier~Newport, Rhode Island, 1901. "The Manger."



Suckling our little God, she experiences intimacy with the Heart of Heaven; Soul searching in silence, she knows woman’s limitless love for her own flesh.  Heart severed in sorrow, she comprehends the reach of the human spirit to accept the sudden and startling embrace of that which God chose to become.
~Noelle Clearwater c. 1996 revised 2012
Excerpt from  my poem “The Visit”



Have A Blessed  Christmas full of love and Good Will and A Peaceful New Year.
~Noelle Renee


Thursday, December 5, 2013

Morning Fiddler ~ Haiku My Heart

photo (3) Gigi ©2011Glenn Capers (published with kind permission, all rights reserved)
From the Photographer in his own words: Early morning in the gray mist of Lima Peru I was having my first coffee and wondering if the strength of it would ruin the day. In the silence I heard singing strings echoing down the weathered concrete walls. Pushing the coffee aside, I found the blind fiddler with his child sleeping against his side. I didn't know he was blind until I moved in quietly and paid attention to the empty plastic container between his legs. In the rush of seeing this dedicated man playing for his living in my view finder, I shook. I silently shot two frames, placed a ten dollar bill in his cup, slipped off into the mist and gave him blessing as I left. I never went back to my coffee. I wanted to taste life and fill my lungs with air from the Andes. ~Glenn Capers

The heart’s melody
played with Hope’s agile bow strings
in a minor key.
~Noelle Renee
12/22/11

In Memory of Joe Spado
May 10, 1949 b.
December 2, 2013 d.

Dedicated to the memory of My Dear Friend Joe Spado, whose presence on this earth I shall miss like the soft welcoming rain at the beginning of every glorious, green Spring.


I wrote this same post for Joe originally in December of 2011 when he was in the hospital with a troubled heart. It was filled with links to "heart-healing" areas for him to explore on the web, places that wouldn't raise his blood pressure but would instead calm his nerves and soothe his mind. The music in the video below is a good example of such a place. I remember that he was very appreciative of the post. I am not certain that he told me personally himself in a phone call. I think that he was too overwhelmed with illness and emotion at the time, but he told me later on this post and let me know how much it meant to him. I reread his words on this post today, so sincere and "heartfelt".  It was an honor to know you, Joe. You were a brave warrior and I feel your spirit, still. I loved the way you always cared for the people too. 
Peace and Love Joe as always,
Noelle

Linked to Rebecca’s blog at Recuerda mi Corazon.
Violin Portrait, Cinematography project Based on Boys Before Flowers/ Strange Sun

Joe's Sacred Fire

From an email on Sacred Fires sent to me by Joe on 3/27/11:

I have been attending Sundance for many years. I wrote about the experience a few years ago. It is a long story. But I want to ask you if you would read it. I want you to know what I have seen and been taught.
There is a section in this narrative that tells of one night in particular when I was chosen as the Fire Keeper for the Sacred Sundance Fire. I never published this story. It is more of a journal and I hope that my Grandchildren will read it to their Grandchildren long after I'm gone. May I send it?
The Ojibwe say Iskoday. The word means Fire in the Anishanabe language. It sounds more like the people are calling the Fire Keeper Shwabay, or Firefly. Iskoday is asked to spread tobacco in four directions over the fire as prayers are being said or sang in the Sweat Lodge.
You've created a wonderful morning here for me. My spirit is soaring as the morning begins.
Peace to you and all you hold dear,
Joe