"If you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in your field of bliss, and they open doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be" ~Joseph Campbell
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee One clover, and a bee, and reverie The reverie alone will do if bees are few Emily Dickinson~
Only She Who Sees
"Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round and pick blackberries." — Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high ~William Goldman
I SAY ...
I say sit beneath the trees while the breeze blows. Smell their spring boutonniere. Gather their colorful leaves into blithe bouquets. Eavesdrop on them at dawn and dusk.
His trees are potted in the soil Random flowers bloom His garden A footstool ready made will do To stop and rest at random The mountain rock foundation Will hold Him well and fine A Wild Man in heart and deed At home in Nature divine
Always in my heart, always in my mind~
"I Say Look At the Trees" ~ Edna O'Brien
Their words hang in the sky ready to drop down like leaves. ~Bookish
Anne's Haunted Wood (click for more "Anne" posts)
My name is written there. The trees greet me as friends. I tell the wind my secrets ~Bookishkind
Faerie's Breath - gathered on the wind
"If I do not stop to grasp the beauty before me, My soul will wither and die"
She the winter tree, Draped in a blanket of snow and ready for the winter sleep, Memorizes days gone by, So her dreams are filled with them, Until she wakes again ~ BookishKind
The Land of Shalott - Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver
Photo by Iris Compiet
Moors in the Sky
I Am Emily
Photo by Elizabeth Baverstock
Brokenness - Heaven knows I live and breathe it, It doesn't hasten, it only stays
I realized the greatest way for me to exist was to just live as a broken person ~ Ashley Cleveland
The wonder of the eyes and the soul, starts with gazing, seeking, looking, and we look from somewhere
"The answers are blowin in the wind"
Beauty seems to follow peace around like a little sister ~ bookishkind
A wise old soul
Photo by Juan Pixeleta
Photo by Kay Nielsen
"Now I'm on my way I'll be there someday With God's help I'll become myself I'll become myself God hovers over chaos He hovers over me He makes all things beautiful And it's beautiful to see I'll get there someday With God's help I'll become myself" (Susan Ashton, Thief)
I am a warrior of quiet ~ Brooke Schmidt
Autumn is kindling for the starving soul
Birds wear no shoes So neither will I
"God says to the sun every morning Shine again, shine again, And to the moon every evening, Do it again, do it again" ~ We are no different, we must keep trying again and again, even when we fail ~ especially when we fail ~
My Bronte pen came this week and I am thrilled with it. I chose the Emily Bronte Pen and here it is in its black presentation case, along with a certificate of authentication from Haworth Church.
It also comes with a pamphlet that tells a little bit about the pen and the wood it was made from. Mine was made from wood taken from the old schoolroom and also Haworth Church.
It reads, "the lid of this pen is made from wood sourced from the old schoolroom, the teaching place of the Bronte's. The body of the pen is made from wood sourced from Haworth Church, the resting place of Emily and Charlotte Bronte."
There is also a short history included of Emily, the old schoolroom, and Haworth Church.
Here is what my pen looks like. I decided on the light wood since I liked the look of it the best. I love that a little piece of Haworth, Haworth Church, Emily, and the Bronte's in general, is safely tucked away in my home where I can take it out and touch it anytime I want to. It is a connection to the Brontes that is unique and memorable. The wood from the pen surrounded the sisters as they worshipped or taught, and now a very small piece of that is here with me. It's a connection I will cherish for a long time.
you might wander quiet streets at night
you might pray to a sky full of stars
you might learn something from the hard times
you might smile through pain
you might fall and get back up
you might choose one path or another
you might be a hero
you might wonder the meaning of life
you might already know
you might stand tall and strong
you might be on your knees
you might cry in your pillow at night
you might wonder if goodness is gone
you might think that it has
you might forget for a moment that goodness abounds
you might be reminded it's here
whatever you might do, don't forget to remember to...,
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding."
The Bronte Blog has posted about some Bronte-related pens that are available for purchase.
So what's all the fuss over some handmade wooden pens, you say? I'll try to explain without jumping out of my seat -- There are three pens available to buy, each one named for one of the sisters. Henceforth, the "Charlotte Bronte Pen" / the "Emily Bronte Pen" / and the "Anne Bronte Pen."
The pens are made with wood taken from either Haworth Parish Church, where Emily and Charlotte are both buried, taken from a church pew, or wood from the schoolroom where the sister's famously taught their pupils (wood taken from a window sill).
I have already secured one of the pens for myself, and I wonder if you can guess which one I chose. It was a hard choice, but I finally decided on one. I wish I could have justified one of each, but I couldn't. When my pen arrives, I'll share with you which one I got. I'll leave comments on if you want to be brave and guess what I chose.
These pens are limited, of course, when they are gone they are gone. If you love the Bronte's and want a connection to their past you might want to check them out before they disappear. You'll find them at YorkandBeyond.
Your woods flow a constant stream of beauty, pull up the hearth ~
Reverie & Rain
We are kindred spirits, ragamuffin souls looking for answers
And sometimes we find others who are on this same journey and we know, they are kindred to us, they are broken like us, and we walk together and learn
I will never tire of the wind, be it a cold winter blast that takes me off guard with it's bitterness, or an exhilarating spring or fall tempest that sweeps me away. I get caught up in it every time, ...it's as if the wind is calling my name to come out and play. The trees become my cohorts, ...those gentle giants that sway back and forth with delight, as they gracefully bend to and fro - they get caught up every time, too, and are surely clapping their hands in mirth. In these moments, I am a beautiful bird who was made for nothing more than ascending to the heights where the currents await me. Joy.
Words are meant to be woven together like a beautiful tapestry, one stitch at a time. If the stitch is not put in properly, it must be undone and tried again. ~Bookishkind
Reading is elegance at its best
...The gathered words are the ones I like best. ~Bookishkind
The Best Books
updated May 2016
"If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead, either write something worth reading or do things worth writing." Benjamin Franklin
The soul requires time amongst the wildflowers, to hear what they are whispering to the wind. Their stillness speaks a thousand words. ~Bookishkind
I was born in the wrong era!
We collect the books we love, like a lover picking roses for his beloved ~ We absorb the words and lines, like the lover breathes the fragrance of the petals, and revels in the beauty of the delicate form~ We rest the books on the shelf with care, like we fasten the flower up to dry, to remember and cherish the memories that are culled from the experience
Sometimes the words whisper freely to you and you can't write them down fast enough... and sometimes you wait and wait for them to arrive
I want to walk in bluebells, the way some people walk in Memphis
A river is always there yet the water flowing through it is never the same water because it cannot be still. How mesmerizing and captivating a concept. Always shaping, on the move, constantly widening or deepening, coursing its way through land, or ploughing a valley of bold creation. ~Corey Hart
Refreshing raindrops descend to soak the land into green, falling from Love. Shared and surrendered to the open sky, to fall on creation, which craves drenching in the heavenly display.
There's a fine art gallery hung up in the sky
For the beauty of the earth
Wanderers- I don't understand these youth who come straight out of the pocket, And know right where they are heading. I only know how to obey the call of the wanderers, Who don't even know they've been wandering, And have only now reached the shore. Their story is deeper, though harder, stronger, though longer. It weaves and strays onto paths that take years to untangle from, Still, it has them where they are today. They have bloomed, though lately. ~Copyright 2011, Bookish Kind
"While I walk the clay, I'm going to steal some earthly beauty. Tuck it away deep in my heart. When the time comes, I'll sneak it into heaven. Some things can't be given up when you cross the stars."
"Noticing fireflies with new eyes tonight. How miraculous is a tiny insect that lights up the low ground and high spaces of the trees- just as stars begin to light up the sky -- passing the baton in a wildly creative dance! God is everywhere. He will not allow a millisecond of darkness." ~Bonnie Keen
Wind is God's gift for those of us who fly (copyright bookishkind 2013)
Wind From the Sea
by Andrew Wyeth
Why on earth would anyone want a windbreaker? I want to feel every last bit of it.
Wind Has A Temper
The trees announce the wind's arrival before she comes in the room. You hear the arrival before her entrance. Stillness is replaced with a rustling gesture replaced with tempestousness. Apparently, wind has a temper.
The Rain She Loved
"The rain she loved, Because she got to use Her umbrella" - by Painting The Moon
Speak Silent Words Quietly
the tiny voice inside of she, speaks silent words so quietly
And the raven-birds create tension on the quiet-branches, That draws my impatient-eye to them. Seeking change I congregate with them, a respite from the bitter-cold. The lifeless-branch moves, and I cannot look away, .....I will not look-away
It's either insomnia or there are beautiful things running around inside of your head.
London A Day or So Ago
(Posts about London)
I belong to the Church
Photo by Ann Torrence
Where You'll Find Me
It's my contention that there is no sincere path a human being can take without breaking his or her heart...so it can be a lovely, merciful thing to think, 'Actually, there is no path I can take without having my heart broken, so why not get on with it and stop wanting these extra-special circumstances which stop me from doing something courageous?' David Whyte