I nurtured and waited 7 years for this orchid to bloom.
Reblogged from today’s Poetry Almanac:
The first of two powerful solar storms hit the Earth on this date in 1859. It became known as the “Carrington Event,” after amateur astronomer Richard Carrington, who witnessed the solar flares through his telescope outside London. When the geomagnetic disturbance reached Earth, telegraph wires began shorting out, shooting streams of fire and igniting telegraph paper in North America and Europe. Compasses were useless because the Earth’s magnetic field had gone haywire. The northern lights were seen as far south as Cuba and Jamaica, and the southern lights — aurora australis — were seen in Santiago, Chile. In some places, the aurora was so bright that birds began chirping in the middle of the night because they thought the sun was rising. The Carrington Event was by far the strongest geomagnetic storm ever recorded: ice core samples reveal that it was twice as powerful as any other storm in the past 500 years. If a similar storm happened today, with our dependence on satellites and electronics, it’s estimated that it would cause up to 2 trillion dollars’ worth of damage.
Be Kind
by Michael Blumenthal
Not merely because Henry James said
there were but four rules of life—
be kind be kind be kind be kind— but
because it’s good for the soul, and,
what’s more, for others; it may be
that kindness is our best audition
for a worthier world, and, despite
the vagueness and uncertainty of
its recompense, a bird may yet wander
into a bush before our very houses,
gratitude may not manifest itself in deeds
entirely equal to our own, still there’s
weather arriving from every direction,
the feasts of famine and feasts of plenty
may yet prove to be one, so why not
allow the little sacrificial squinches and
squigulas to prevail? Why not inundate
the particular world with minute particulars?
Dust’s certainly all our fate, so why not
make it the happiest possible dust,
a detritus of blessedness? Surely
the hedgehog, furling and unfurling
into its spiked little ball, knows something
that, with gentle touch and unthreatening
tone, can inure to our benefit, surely the wicked
witches of our childhood have died and,
from where they are buried, a great kindness
has eclipsed their misdeeds. Yes, of course,
in the end so much comes down to privilege
and its various penumbras, but too much
of our unruly animus has already been
wasted on reprisals, too much of the
unblessed air is filled with smoke from
undignified fires. Oh friends, take
whatever kindness you can find
and be profligate in its expenditure:
It will not drain your limited resources,
I assure you, it will not leave you vulnerable
and unfurled, with only your sweet little claws
to defend yourselves, and your wet little noses,
and your eyes to the ground, and your little feet.
“Be Kind” by Michael Blumenthal, from No Hurry. © Etruscan Press, 2012. Reprinted with permission.
The Vibrant Channeled Creator 