david whyte

Image ~ Narrator, M. Justice ~ EVERYTHING FALLS AWAY ~

There’s a thread you follow.  It goes among
things that change.  But it doesn’t change.

                                   William Stafford

Sooner or later, everything falls away.
You, the work you’ve done, your successes,
large and small, your failures, too. Those
moments when you were light, alongside
the times you became one with the night.
The friends, the people you loved
who loved you, those who might have wished
you ill, none of this is forever. All of it is
soon to go, or going, or long gone.

 Everything falls away, except the thread
you’ve followed, unknowing, all along.
The thread that strings together all you’ve
been and done, the thread you didn’t know
you were tracking until, toward the end,
you see that the tread is what stays
as everything else falls away.

 Follow that thread as far as you can and
you’ll find that it does not end, but weaves
into the unimaginable vastness of life. Your
life never was the solo turn it seemed to be.
It was always part of the great weave of
nature and humanity, an immensity we
come to know only as we follow our own
small threads to the place where they
merge with the boundless whole.

 Each of our threads runs its course, then
joins in life together. This magnificent tapestry –
this masterpiece in which we live forever.

                                   Parker J. Palmer

Parker J. Palmer, Everything Falls Away, Music ~ FLOW ~ Will Ackerman. voice M.Justice

The Oak Tree
by Mary Howitt
Artist Jean-Baptiste   
Sing for the Oak Tree,
The monarch of the wood;
Sing for the Oak Tree,
That groweth green and good;
That groweth broad and branching
Within the forest shade;
That groweth now, and yet shall grow
When we are lowly laid!
The Oak Tree was an acorn once,
And fell upon the earth;
And sun and showers nourished it,
And gave the Oak Tree birth.
The little sprouting Oak Tree.
Two leaves it had at first,
Till sun and showers had nourished it,
Then out the branches burst.
The little sapling Oak Tree!
Its root was like a thread,
Till the kindly earth had nourished it,
Then out it freely spread:
On this side and on that side
It grappled with the ground;
And in the ancient, rifted rock
Its firmest footing found.
The winds came, and the rain fell;
The gusty tempest blew;
All, all were friends to the Oak Tree 
And stronger yet it grew.
The boy that saw the acorn fall,
He feeble grew and grey;
But the Oak was still a thriving tree,
And strengthened every day!
Four centuries grows the Oak Tree
Nor doth its verdue fail;
Its heart is like the iron wood,
Its bark like plated mail.
Now, cut us down the Oak Tree,
The monarch of the wood;
And of its timbers stout and strong
We'll build a vessel good!
The Oak Tree of the forest
Both east and west shall fly;
And the blessings of a thousand lands
Upon our ship shall lie!
For she shall not be a man-of-war,
Nor a pirate shall she be:—
But a noble, Christian merchant-ship
To sail upon the sea.
Then sing for the Oak Tree,
The monarch of the wood;
Sing for the Oak Tree, That groweth green and good;
That groweth broad and branching
Within the forest shade;
That groweth now, and yet shall grow,
When we are lowly laid!

The Oak Tree: by Mary Howitt, music, The Opening Of Doors, Will Ackerman, voice M.Justice

EVENING
Rainer Maria Rilke
Slowly now the evening changes his garments
held for him by a rim of ancient trees;
you gaze: and the landscape divides and leaves you,
one sinking and one rising toward the sky.
And you are left, to none belonging wholly,
not so dark as a silent house, nor quite
so surely pledged unto-  eternity
as that which grows to star and climbs the night.
To you is left (unspeakably confused)
your life, gigantic, ripening, full of fears,
so that it, now hemmed in, now grasping all,
is changed in you and turns to stone and stars.
translated by F.C. MacIntyre
South Anhui, China
Óurán

EVENING: Rainer Maria Rilke, music ~ Will Ackerman, narrator, M. Justice.

Most people in your life   
were only meant
for dreams
and Summer laughter.
They stay till the wind changes
and tide turns
or disappear
with the first snow.
And then there are some
that were forged
to weather blizzards
and pain with you .
They were cast in iron
Set in gold
and never ever leave you
to face anything alone.
Know who these people are
and love them the way they deserve.
Not everyone in your life is temporary
A few are as permanent as love is old .
~ Nikita Gill ~
Cover photo, Unknown.

Most People: by Nikita Gill~ music ~ Christian Lindquist, voice, M. Justice

if you believe that you are water
and you are
stop trying to fit into another body’s small cup
you are bigger than this, and wilder
—feral, if you would only allow yourself to remember
within your body there is thirsty ground to cover, and trees
waiting to be watered—the old oak, and the new sycamore
the dogwood, and the goat willow
are waiting for you to bless them, waiting
for you to green them
here are the darting, glittery fish
who long to swim in the estuaries of your life
and the soft bodies of sleek mammals
slipping unseen through your quiet, ferrying
your stories on their wet fur, all the things
that you believe about yourself, and all the things
that you have been given
they might secretly long to bring you something true
an offering to drop at your feet
you might let them tell you
that you are not a mouthful, that you are not
a moment to be captured, held in a bowl
you are the rain waiting to be reborn
you are cloud, and the soft lapping at the edge of the reeds
you are the unwitnessed wave in every ocean>
a womb is made to hold, as well as to let go
if you allow your body this, you might begin to wear
all your days pinned to your breast pocket
where you can reach them with your untroubled hands
kiss them with your satisfied mouth. an honest place.
this is a small truth. believe this.
— shaping the quiet prophecy of a life
© Liezel Graham 2022

Liezel Graham 2022: music ~ Ralph Towner ~ voice, M. Justice.

THE TRUELOVE 
by David Whyte
There is a faith in loving fiercely
 the one who is rightfully yours,
 especially if you have
 waited years and especially
 if part of you never believed 
you could deserve this
 loved and beckoning hand
 held out to you this way.

I am thinking of faith now 
and the testaments of loneliness
 and what we feel we are 
worthy of in this world.

Years ago in the Hebrides,
 I remember an old man
 who walked every morning
 on the grey stones
 to the shore of baying seals, 
who would press his hat
 to his chest in the blustering 
salt wind and say his prayer 
to the turbulent Jesus
 hidden in the water,

and I think of the story 
of the storm and everyone 
waking and seeing 
the distant 
yet familiar figure
 far across the water
 calling to them

and how we are all
 preparing for that
 abrupt waking, 
and that calling,
and that moment
 we have to say yes,
 except it will 
not come so grandly
 so Biblically 
but more subtly 
and intimately in the face
 of the one you know 
you have to love

so that when 
we finally step out of the boat
 toward them, we find
 everything holds
 us, and everything confirms
 our courage, and if you wanted 
to drown you could,
 but you don’t
 because finally
 after all this struggle
 and all these years
 you simply don’t want to 
any more
 you’ve simply had enough
 of drowning 
and you want to live and you
 want to love and you will
 walk across any territory
 and any darkness
 however fluid and however 
dangerous to take the
 one hand you know 
belongs in yours.

THE TRUELOVE  ~ by David Whyte, music ~ Kyle Harvey & various Artists, ~ voice M. Justice.

And though all the things I love 
may pass away and
the great family of things and people
I have made around me 
will see me go,
I feel them living in me
like a great gathering
ready to reach a greater home.

When one thing dies all things
die together, and must live again
in a different way, 
when one thing
is missing everything is missing, 
and must be found again
in a new whole
and everything wants to be complete,
everything wants to go home
and the geese traveling south 
are like the shadow of my breath
flying into the darkness
on great heart-beats
to an unknown land where I belong.

This morning they have
found me,
full of faith,
like a blind child,
nestled in their feathers,
following the great coast of the wind
to a home I cannot see.
~David Whyte

David Whyte, From "What I Must Tell Myself," music Fabrizio Pigliucci, voice M.J. Hummingway

David Whyte, Poet, Author, Lecturer holds a degree in Marine Zoology and has traveled extensively, including living and working as a naturalist guide in the Galapagos Islands and leading anthropological and natural history expeditions in the Andes, the Amazon and the Himalaya. He brings this wealth of experience to his poetry, lectures and workshops. http://www.davidwhyte.com

Buy the book!

David Whyte - The Three Marriages

WINTER GRIEF
Let the rest 
in this rested place 
rest for you.
Let the birds sing 
and the geese call
and the sky race
from west to east 
when you cannot raise 
a wing to fly.
Let evening
trace your loss 
in the stonework
against a fading sky.
So that 
you can give up
and give in
and be given back to,
so that you can let
winter
come and live
fully inside you,
so that
you can
retrace
the loving path
of heartbreak 
that brought you here. 
So you can cry alone
and be alone
so you can let 
yourself alone
to be lost,
so you can
let the one 
you have lost
alone, so that
you can let
the one 
you have lost 
have their 
own life 
and even
their own 
death
without you.
So the world
and everyone 
who has ever lived 
and ever died
can come and go 
as they please.
So you can
let yourself 
not know, what 
not knowing 
means.
So that
you can be
even more generous 
in your letting go
than they 
were 
in their leaving.
So that you can
let winter 
be winter.
So that you can let 
the world alone
to think of spring.
…
WINTER GRIEF
From
THE BELL AND THE BLACKBIRD
Poetry by David Whyte
APRIL 2018 © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press 
...
The grief of losing a loved one, the need to walk, to remember, to heal when you cannot heal, to remember what you do not wish to remember. The unconscious call for invisible help, and the not knowing consciously, how, in any way, to ask for it, the way everything refuses to console until we are ready for that consolation. The way winter turns to spring. DW

WINTER GRIEF ~ David Whyte / Music, Robert Linton / spoken by, M. Justice


 … Sing a song of sad young men, glasses full of rye
All the news is bad again, kiss your dreams goodbye
… All the sad young men, sitting in the bars
Knowing neon nights, and missing all the stars
… All the sad young men, drifting through the town
Drinking up the night, trying not to drown
… All the sad young men, singing in the cold
Trying to forget, that they're growing old
… All the sad young men, choking on their youth
Trying to be brave, running from the truth
… Autumn turns the leaves to gold, slowly dies the heart
Sad young men are growing old, that's the cruellest part
… All the sad young men, seek a certain smile
Someone they can hold, for just a little while
… Tired little girl, does the best she can
Trying to be gay, for a sad young men
… While a grimy moon, watches from above
All the sad young men, who play at making love
… Misbegotten moon shine for sad young men
Let your gentle light guide them home again
All the sad, sad, sad, young men
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Fran Landesman Frances / Thomas J Tommy Jr Wolf
Ballad of the Sad Young Men lyrics © Fricon Music Company

From ~ Roberta Flack's / Sad Young Men / music,  Deep Theta soundscapes / spoken by M. Justice.

David Whyte:  The Poetry of Self-Compassion

Valentine for Ernest Mann —Naomi Shihab Nye 
Still, I like your spirit. 
Anyone who says, “Here’s my address, 
write me a poem,” deserves something in reply. So I’ll tell a secret 
instead: 
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes, 
they are sleeping. They are the shadows drifting across our ceilings the
 moment
 before we wake up. What we have to do 
is live in a way that lets us find them.
 
Once I knew a man who gave his wife 
two skunks for a valentine. 
He couldn’t understand why she was crying. 
“I thought they had such beautiful eyes.” 
And he was serious. He was a serious man 
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly 
just because the world said so. He really 
liked those skunks. So, he re-invented them 
as valentines and they became beautiful. 
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding in the eyes of 
Skunks for centuries 
crawled out and curled up at his feet. 
Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us 
we find poems. Check your garage, the off sock 
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite. And let me 
know.

Valetine for Ernest Mann:  Naomi Shihad Nye / music - acoustic noodling / spoken by, M. JUstice.

David Whyte - Venturing Across the Unknown

David Whyte - Engaging Life's Conversation

For Transcripts & Translations - https://genekeys.com/great-change/
Soundtrack by Entheo Music - https://entheomusic.com

Bulgarian Choir - https://open.spotify.com/album/6sq0xFq7n6ToKZjBcQvYwI?si=54Bn_A6WQsiZmNzLHNTExw&nd=1

The Great Change

Musician, digital artist, Sculptor. Narrator

David Whyte, From "What I Must Tell Myself," music Fabrizio Pigliucci, voice M.J. Hummingway

M.J. Hummingway

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