Saints Bowing in the Mountains Do you know how beautiful you are? I think not, my dear. For as you talk of God, I see great parades with wildly colorful bands Streaming from your mind and heart, Carrying wonderful and secret messages To every corner of this world. I see saints bowing in the mountains Hundreds of miles away To the wonder of sounds That break into light From your most common words. Speak to me of your mother, Your cousins and your friends. Tell me of squirrels and birds you know. Awaken your legion of nightingales— Let them soar

I’ve gone to the fields to run barefoot through grass and pick daisies, to sing and be silent. Where will you run off to this summer day? -Christine Valters Paintner @ Abbey of the Arts

We hit a record 98 degrees yesterday, but thankfully this morning is cool and delightful. Tune and I went for our usual walk and I fell in love with a vine blossom -Christine Valters Paintner @Abbey of the Arts

This laboring through what is still undone, as though, legs bound, we hobbled along the way, is like the awkward walking of the swan. And dying-to let go, no longer feel the solid ground we stand on every day- is like anxious letting himself fall into waters, which receive him gently and which, as though with reverence and joy, draw back past him in streams on either side; while, infinitely silent and aware, in his full majesty and ever more indifferent, he condescends to glide. -Rainer Maria Rilke (trans. Stephen Mitchell) Rilke is one of my many favorite poets.  We