Tag Archives: trust

Current Jargon — some silliness


“If you leave the pool you have dug for yourself and go out into the river of life then life has an astonishing way of taking care of you, because then there is no taking care on your part.”
–Jiddu Krishnamurti


Swimming in a river of words
I tend to fill my pool with familiar textures
and phrase, the better to feel at ease
but what if i was to let go
venture outside acceptable parameters
into dark swells of under-utilized expressions
warm touches and feels unknown
I tread and I trust
and let befuddlement steer my passage
strange cadences
in unfamiliar rapture
my existence caught up
by eerie linguistic spectres
yet still i stay afoot
baptized in new jargon
beholden to the weaver of words.
— G A Rosenberg


Blessings, G


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Soul CompanionSoul Companion by G A Rosenberg


Gothic EveningGothic Evening by G A Rosenberg


Trusting Heart and Presence


“Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.”
― e e Cummings


Learning to trust a heart that has tended to doubt itself can be a challenge. I know myself to be constant in my inconsistency and will full and flighty in equal measures with little regard for timing. Yet I have been learning to accept the moment for what it is and work with what is at hand. Each challenge met builds my confidence even if the meeting does not go according to plan. Perhaps that gives me more to work with. I may procrastinate through a storm and take forever to reach my point yet on so many levels I persist. I don’t know with any certainty what tomorrow may bring but more and more I have been learning to trust both my present and my presence. If I can show up for whatever may be than I can make it through anything.
Blessings, G


Click on images to see full-sized:


Universal EyeUniversal Eye by G A Rosenberg


Immersed in his SurroundingsImmersed in His Surroundings by G A Rosenberg

Learning From Trees

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.”

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.”

“A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.”

“A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.”

“When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.”

“A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.”

“So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”
― Hermann Hesse


When I was a boy I was lucky enough to have a few special relationships with trees. There was an oak in my next door’s neighbours yard that I would sit beneath whenever I had something deep or painful  on my mind or when I wanted a bit of quiet. The neighbours who were somewhat elderly (maybe about 15 years older than I am now) and if they noticed a thin young kid with his face buried in a book leaning against their tree than they did not object.
The old Oak showed me the changing of the seasons. It invited me to climb and perhaps helped me overcome my fear of heights a bit. It was always there. Friendships came and went and returned and the tree was always there. My parents got separated and divorced but the tree was there. My older sister became a teenager and had less time to hang out but the tree was there. I even shared her diary with the old oak that I borrowed to read one day. I learned Change and constancy from the tree. I learned how to stay grounded and how to appreciate quiet and a small breeze.
Blessings, G


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DreamScape with Spirit GuidesDreamscape with Spirit Guides by G A Rosenberg


Temple AbstractTemple Abstract by G A Rosenberg