inspirational

Risking It All

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“Wage peace,” she writes,

this person I do not know,

reposted by someone else,

a mere acquaintance.

“Wage peace.”

I know what she means,

but my mind jumps to the minimum wage,

which does not provide much peace.

Besides, peace seems the minimum of wages due

when I sink into my pillow at the end

of a day of diligent and otherwise

unpaid work.

But that’s not what this person means

when she writes, “Wage peace.”

She means, of course, to counter

the waging of war, to say that

instead of engaging in war,

we must engage in peace.

But my mind jumps to

that other form of wage:

wager—a bet or a pledge.

Now the meaning splits wide open.

Pledge yourself to peace.

Bet on peace.

Risk it all

on the hope

of peace.

This, I think, is both wage and wager.

So I pass it on to friends,

to mere acquaintances,

to strangers

as we link thoughts,

hopes,

dreams,

bets.

I lean in close.

“Wage peace,” I write.

“Pass it on.”

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week – at a safari park:

Shadow of the Week:

 

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Magic of the Ordinary

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I would say it’s magical—

although it can be explained—

the way the pepper bush hides

within a pale, flat, round seed

snuggled in the warm dirt,

the way it wakes only when it’s ready,

the way it unfurls arrow-shaped leaves,

stretches thin arms to bask in sunshine,

flirts with wind,

revels in rain,

and smiles in small white blooms.

I know this can be explained,

but it seems magical,

the way those blooms shed petals

and take on pale green skin,

the way they curve and grow longer each day,

turning gold,

blushing orange,

deepening to red,

every day ripening

smooth, shiny, plump.

I pluck them free,

split them,

scoop out scores of seeds,

pale, flat, round,

magic,

for inside each

hides a pepper bush ready to emerge

when the time is right.

I dice these plump, ripe peppers,

stir-fry them,

taste their snappy sweetness,

and marvel at the goodness of the garden.

All of this can be explained,

I know.

But I say

it’s magical.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate the seeds of kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

We Bring Things

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We bring things for our people—

armfuls of leaves and petals and stems.

We bring things for our people—

paints of red and daffodil yellow,

sea blue and forest green,

poems of peace

and questions for musing.

With outstretched hands,

we bring ourselves—

our seeking souls

our open hearts.

We bring things for our people,

and it’s like bringing the sunshine.

– kh –

I wrote this about being a facilitator/teacher at Art & Soul Nashville, a community of intuitive artmaking where I take classes and sometimes teach. Who are your people? What do you bring them? What do they bring you? In what communities or friendships do you find peace? Count yourself blessed.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

A Safe Haven

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“We make many attempts to establish the outer world as a safe haven . . . instead of finding a safe haven within and bringing that to the outer world.” – Henri Nouwen

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Peace Like a River

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“When peace like a river attendeth my way,

when sorrows like sea billows roll,

whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,

It is well; it is well with my soul.”*

 

This hymn was softly playing on my sister’s phone when my dad took his final breath last week. My sisters and I were holding his thin hands, listening beyond the music to his ragged breathing. We had told him a few minutes earlier not to worry, that we would be all right. I said, “We’ll be here, Daddy. We’ll walk with you as far as we can.” And we did. As he let go and stopped struggling to breathe, a deep peace carried all of us, and as the last phrase of the hymn drifted across us, he drifted away. “It is well; it is well with my soul.”

May peace, deep and buoyant as a gentle, restful river carry you through this day and all the days to come and assure you that truly, it is well.

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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*Written by Horatio G. Spafford, public domain

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Could it Become a Symphony?

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In the branches above me,

a bird—cardinal? wren?

I’m not expert enough to say—

sings a lilting tune

and is echoed by a distant bird,

an early morning call and response.

I imagine this network of singers,

this connection between birds

who share the same song,

who hear each other

and answer

above the rush of traffic,

the wind through the trees,

the hum of the jet crossing overhead.

I imagine this stream of song,

stretching like a strand of gossamer,

loose and floating but strong,

crossing the city,

one bird to another.

Could it make its way

around the world?

Could it become a symphony?

I imagine that it does.

I imagine, too, those of us

who share the same song of hope,

who protect deep peace in our hearts,

who honor loving kindness for all,

who pray for peace to blanket the world

but fear that our voices simply sound

like the thin chirps of distant birds.

Still, our gossamer thread is strong.

Does my voice echo yours, I wonder,

or is it the other way around?

As with birds,

who begins the song

and who carries it on

is of no consequence.

What matters is the song

making its wise way through the world

beyond the ruckus of resentment,

above the bite of arrogance.

What matters is that we never stop spreading

the possibility of peace.

Sing on, friends.

Listen to the distant voices

and the near ones,

the clarion carriers

of the call of peace.

Catch that song,

weave it into your voice,

echo its hope,

for somewhere a listening ear waits

to hear that melody,

to send it on

and on

across the world.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Song of All-is-Done

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A steady swish and swash

whispers from the dishwasher.

The tide of soap and water

swiftly ebbs and flows

with white noise,

the song of all-is-done,

all-is-well,

no more urgency of

clattering silverware,

clinking dishes,

stirring peppers and potatoes,

cracking eggs,

buttering,

salting,

tasting,

serving,

clearing.

All is done for the day.

I sit by lamplight,

cat in my lap,

book open to the next chapter

to read,

to rest,

to doze to the song of the sea

in a box

and imagine that I’m at the ocean,

waves shushing me,

wind feathering my hair,

my toes in the sand,

leaving footprints as I stroll

along the shore.

This evening,

listening to the swashing song

of day-is-done,

I stroll the shore of my thoughts.

Perhaps even here,

I will leave footprints.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Something About the Night

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There is something soft and friendly

about the night,

a slowing,

settling,

deep drift

that creeps silently over the world

as the light folds her brightly colored fan

and fades.

Evening shadows gently wash over

grasses and gardens,

chipmunks and squirrels,

bugs and birds.

Darkness rises to the rooftops,

shoulders over the treetops

until all rests under a dome of darkness

where stars sail and the moon smiles

and the night breeze dances.

When I was young,

I was taught about heaven.

“There is no night there,” we sang,

which saddened me for years.

No night?

No beautiful, calming, restful night?

No chirp of crickets?

No whirr of night bugs?

No lovely call of a lone owl?

I am not convinced about heaven,

but I know the night.

I love the night.

There is something soft and friendly

about the night.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Color of Life

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The poem claimed that life was the color of

“almost pale white robin’s green…”*

I shook my head,

for I know that the color of life

is blue—

blue like the sky,

blue like the sea,

blue for peace that is meant to be,

blue for cool breath,

blue for color-shifting twilight.

its blue-green glow deepening

to velvet blue

as night falls.

I feel the color of life as blue—

the blue-violet of deep thought,

the sharp-edged gray blue of grief,

the airy, floating blue of hope.

Yes. The color of life is blue—

thirst quenching,

soul resting,

heart holding,

dream painting,

wild-and-tame,

up-and-down,

surge-and-rest,

swimming,

swirling,

settling,

soothing

blue.

I see you shaking your head.

What color is life

to you?

– kh –

* from “Eggshell” by Gerald Stern

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

What the Bee Sees

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Lean close to summer blooms—

peek into petunias,

dive deep into daylilies,

stare boldly at black-eyed Susans,

push past flashy petals

into the center,

the inner sanctum,

anthers and stamen,

tiny flying flags

or miniature stars

or prickly pillows

dusty with pollen,

maybe moist with the season’s

sweet dew.

This is what the bee must see

as he follows the path

of a petal’s dark veins

to settle headfirst,

to nestle inside

for a moment

or two.

The butterfly flicks

her curling, unfurling,

thread-thin tongue

to taste this splendor.

The ant tiptoes in,

humble on this holy ground,

this extravagant gift.

It’s our gift too

for the mere price

of a moment’s noticing.

Peek in.

Dive deep.

Lean close.

Stare boldly.

See what the bee sees.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.