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Enviro Eco Nature    H4'ed 9/29/21

Daffodils

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Daffodils
Daffodils
(Image by Pixabay: Hans)
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DAFFODILS

I sit musing; absorbed in the moment, mesmerized by gilded, yellow daffodils

Wondering what life's endless fuss, frenzy and furor, are all about

Appearing beyond; imposing, peaked, silhouettes of grandiose, granite hills

Symbols and sentinels of uneasy stability, in a topsy-turvy world, turned, inside-out

Daffodils, a seamless, standing army of flaxen trumpets; brassy and bright

With riveted eyes, feasting on the heart-stirring, spectacular sight

From deep within, I hear a familiar, gentle, fleeting whisper

Caress my chafed, confused, soul; soothe the raw, painful blisters.

Jewelry
Jewelry
(Image by Pixabay: southerngal)
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Outpacing the great, blue, icy-giant Neptune; and the brown, watery-dwarf Pluto

The hidden, beneficent, warm, yellow-scarlet sun, will arise and shine

Chase away fearsome storm-clouds, dense fog and approaching gloom

The good, gentle and kind, will in time align; like intertwined vines

Open-cupped, sun-soaked, drunken, nodding daffodils; mellifluous in airy song

Bells of joy, chime in unison, magically dispel, the unjust, brutal, and wrong

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Irene Fowler Social Media Pages: Facebook page url on login Profile not filled in       Twitter page url on login Profile not filled in       Linked In Page       Instagram page url on login Profile not filled in

Nigerian International lawyer (LL.M Harvard),based in Lagos, Nigeria. My career spans the United Nations Geneva, Switzerland (World Health Organization, United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees), Nigerian energy sector(Shell Petroleum, (more...)
 

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Daffodils

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3 people are discussing this page, with 9 comments


Meryl Ann Butler

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Oh, I love this, thank you! My granddaughter and I are both March babies, so daffodils are our monthly flower, here she is at 4 months:

Daffodil baby
Daffodil baby
(Image by Meryl Ann Butler)
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Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 12:37:20 PM

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Irene Fowler

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Reply to Meryl Ann Butler:   New Content

Thank you Meryl Ann. I like the picture of your "daffodil-ed" granddaughter.

Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 2:23:51 PM

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Blair Gelbond

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A welcome relief for the mind in the midst of politics "up the whazoo." And how many of us need to take some moments to simply sit with and contemplate "the lilies of the field?"

We need the reprieve!

(Do we stop and realize the toll that witnessing and hearing about mendacity and chaos is taking on our beings)?

A passionate soliloquy to hope, and to the militant seeds for justice strewn throughout the human species.

A beautiful example of how images can be expressed through sensual words.

Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 1:35:14 PM

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Irene Fowler

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Reply to Blair Gelbond:   New Content

Yes, I agree Blair. Indeed, we have to get off this treadmill called the "rat race" lest we be forever entangled in cruel snares.

Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 2:31:39 PM

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Irene Fowler

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Reply to Irene Fowler:   New Content

I think William Wordsworth said it best:

"And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."

Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 2:37:42 PM

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Please Call Me by My True Names - Thich Nhat Hanh

Don't say that I will depart tomorrow
even today I am still arriving.

Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his "debt of blood" to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.

My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart
can be left open,
the door of compassion.

Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 11:14:21 PM

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Irene Fowler

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Reply to Blair Gelbond:   New Content

Stunningly poignant.

Submitted on Thursday, Sep 30, 2021 at 4:58:45 AM

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Thich Nhat Hanh tells the story of the poem:

After the Vietnam War, many people wrote to us in Plum Village. We received hundreds of letters each week from the refugee camps in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds each week.

It was very painful to read them, but we had to be in contact. We tried our best to help, but the suffering was enormous, and sometimes we were discouraged. It is said that half the boat people fleeing Vietnam died in the ocean; only half arrived at the shores of Southeast Asia.

There are many young girls, boat people, who were raped by sea pirates. Even though the United Nations and many countries tried to help the government of Thailand prevent that kind of piracy, sea pirates continued to inflict much suffering on the refugees. One day, we received a letter telling us about a young girl on a small boat who was raped by a Thai pirate.

She was only twelve, and she jumped into the ocean and drowned herself

When you first learn of something like that, you get angry at the pirate. You naturally take the side of the girl. As you look more deeply you will see it differently. If you take the side of the little girl, then it is easy. You only have to take a gun and shoot the pirate. But we can't do that.

In my meditation, I saw that if I had been born in the village of the pirate and raised in the same conditions as he was, I would now be the pirate. There is a great likelihood that I would become a pirate. I can't condemn myself so easily.

In my meditation, I saw that many babies are born along the Gulf of Siam, hundreds every day, and if we educators, social workers, politicians, and others do not do something about the situation, in twenty-five years a number of them will become sea pirates. That is certain.

If you or I were born today in those fishing villages, we might become sea pirates in twenty-five years. If you take a gun and shoot the pirate, you shoot all of us, because all of us are to some extent responsible for this state of affairs.

After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves in each other? The title of the poem is "Please Call Me by My True Names," because I have so many names. When I hear one of the of these names, I have to say, "Yes."



Submitted on Wednesday, Sep 29, 2021 at 11:19:28 PM

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Irene Fowler

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Reply to Blair Gelbond:   New Content

Thank you for this narration. In writing this poem, my hope is that we can contemplate, or meditate on, peace, love and harmony - no matter how briefly.

Submitted on Thursday, Sep 30, 2021 at 6:25:20 AM

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