Nature, by Emily Dickinson

A poem for Magna Mater or Isis?

The Field You Belong To

Is there or was there ever a field that you belonged to? Or more than one? What do you remember the most about it? What did you love about it?

Meditations, Book III, Section 2

One can find beauty in unexpected places. I would argue that you can even find beauty in litter (which isn't to say that litter is good for the environment). Some litter has the most astonishing colors and reflective, glossy surfaces. But the beauty of litter is only available to those who suspend their judgment. 

Meditations, Book III, Section 2: 

This also thou must observe, that whatsoever it is that naturally doth happen to things natural, hath somewhat in itself that is pleasing and delightful: as a great loaf when it is baked, some parts of it cleave as it were, and part asunder, and make the crust of it rugged and unequal, and yet those parts of it, though in some sort it be against the art and intention of baking itself, that they are thus cleft and parted, which should have been and were first made all even and uniform, they become it well nevertheless, and have a certain peculiar property, to stir the appetite. So figs are accounted fairest and ripest then, when they begin to shrink, and wither as it were. So ripe olives, when they are next to putrefaction, then are they in their proper beauty. The hanging down of grapes—the brow of a lion, the froth of a foaming wild boar, and many other like things, though by themselves considered, they are far from any beauty, yet because they happen naturally, they both are comely, and delightful; so that if a man shall with a profound mind and apprehension, consider all things in the world, even among all those things which are but mere accessories and natural appendices as it were, there will scarce appear anything unto him, wherein he will not find matter of pleasure and delight. So will he behold with as much pleasure the true rictus of wild beasts, as those which by skilful painters and other artificers are imitated. So will he be able to perceive the proper ripeness and beauty of old age, whether in man or woman: and whatsoever else it is that is beautiful and alluring in whatsoever is, with chaste and continent eyes he will soon find out and discern. Those and many other things will he discern, not credible unto every one, but unto them only who are truly and familiarly acquainted, both with nature itself, and all natural things.

Meditations, Book II, Section 14

Meditations, Book II, Section 14:

A man's soul doth wrong and disrespect itself first and especially, when as much as in itself lies it becomes an aposteme, and as it were an excrescency of the world, for to be grieved and displeased with anything that happens in the world, is direct apostacy from the nature of the universe; part of which, all particular natures of the world, are. Secondly, when she either is averse from any man, or led by contrary desires or affections, tending to his hurt and prejudice; such as are the souls of them that are angry. Thirdly, when she is overcome by any pleasure or pain. Fourthly, when she doth dissemble, and covertly and falsely either doth or saith anything. Fifthly, when she doth either affect or endeavour anything to no certain end, but rashly and without due ratiocination and consideration, how consequent or inconsequent it is to the common end. For even the least things ought not to be done, without relation unto the end; and the end of the reasonable creatures is, to follow and obey him, who is the reason as it were, and the law of this great city, and ancient commonwealth.

To Nature

This is a poem I found online in a book called, Poems of Paganism; Songs of Life and Love, by L. Cranmer Byng, published in 1895. Some of the poems didn't catch my attention, but this one did:

To Nature

Oh! many a time upon thy kind old breast

I've eased my heart of persecution's quest,

And, gazing awestruck over solemn skies,

Sunk swooning into mystic reveries;

And often, when the bitter tears were blinding,

I've felt thy gentle arms around me winding,

And heard a zephyr whisper in mine ear:

"Child of the sun and sea, thy home is here.

Where in the brake the fluted throstles sing,

And homing doves are faintly hovering,

Calm peace shall lay what human anguish lingers,

And sweep the lyre with mild, angelic fingers.

Then take thy wounded spirit from the world

To where the heart of Nature is unfurled;

Where, o'er thy head, the trembling tree-tops close,

And life is one long summer of repose,

By star-kissed stream, and echo-haunted cave,

And lonely isle that lazy waters lave;

Where sorrow sleeps and all existence seems

A many-coloured galaxy of dreams."

Notes:       

(1) brake: thicket 

(2) throstle: The Internet says this is an archaic usage for "song thrush".

Liars & Slanderers

There are all kinds of people in the world. There are liars, slanderers, rumor spreaders, people who think superficially and are quick to misperceive and spread false information. There are people who only tell one side of the story and people who judge having heard only one side of the story--and think nothing of the fact that they have done so. 

This is the nature of the world and of people. If you don't get used to this basic truth, you can never and will never be happy.