Maybe I’ve mentioned how much I love Portland a time or two. One of the things I love is the preponderance of sidewalk poems encased in plexiglass and, in the case of the poem below, churched up with all kinds of flare.
A few weeks ago I came across these words on a Sunday afternoon walk and it reminded me to simply be here. Curious. Open. Willing give truth the space it needs to reveal itself.
When I feel lost, it says to me, stand still for a beat or ten. I will discover that I am already here.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask for permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers.
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may…
View original post 53 more words