Wednesday, September 16, 2015


It happens most frequently on ordinary days
Days when I leave dirty dishes in the sink
Ignore the unmade bed
Step over yesterday’s clothes on the floor
Because I cannot stop moving my pen on the page
Can barely keep up
Words spilling out from some secret source

And when I notice the sun headed for the western horizon
I pause and gasp a little, my breath catching in surprise
Sometimes I go down on my knees
Right there on the crumb-covered carpet
Offering my gritty gratitude
Bewildered by the magic
Flooded with awe

I never take it for granted-
Those moments when what I love carries me
I know it for the grace it is
I cannot make it happen
But I can let it take me when it comes
Give myself over without reservation
Let the unbridled heat ignite something raw and real  

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer (c) 2015

 (Another spectacular photo from Karen Davis at

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Birthday Poem

I’ve been here awhile.

But the sounds of sunrise still lighten my heart
And the summer scent of dusk
The mingling of sun-warmed earth 
                                   and cool starlight
Softens the sharp edges of the inevitable losses
That always seem to surprise us

Disappointment can taste like burnt toast
But regret is a waste of the heat 
                              we need to continue

After all this time
All I can say with absolute certainty
About this world, this work, this life
This trying and giving up
This resisting and giving in
This holding on and letting go

All I can say for sure about this being Here

Is. . . . . .

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer (c) 2015

Deep gratitude to Karen Davis for this photo from )

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Befriending Restlessness

I am learning to befriend restlessness
To spend fewer moments sleep walking
Or giving into continuous movement
Disguised as productive activity
Learning not to resist by collapsing
Into endless distraction and dissatisfaction
(So many shiny objects disappoint)

I am learning to ground in the scent of here
The taste of what is
The soft sound of my breathing
The colour and texture
Of landscapes- inner and outer

After all these years of longing
I am learning to be


~Oriah Mountain Dreamer (Photo from Karen Davis at