The Only Way Forward Is Together

The whole world aches

The whole world is sore

The pain of the wound is too deep to tend to alone

The weight of the wound is too heavy to carry alone

So we must carry it together

And as each hand joins to carry the wound, hands clasping together, united,
Another stitch is made

And we come closer to healing

And closer to each other

Closer to the source of consciousness which tells us: we are all one.

I cannot hurt you without simultaneously hurting myself. I cannot feel without you being affected. Any feeling within me, be it love, anger, joy, or pain, ripples through the thousand invisible connections and is felt by you.

There is no difference between you and I, only space, only barriers, only skin, only molecules, and even that is an illusion

The only way forward is together

-Lucy Schwartz
April-2014.34

Note: I do not own the photograph included in this post, but I always try to link the photographs to their original source (when I can find it). If you want to find out more about the beautiful image & the photographer you can click on the image.

The Dig (The Art of Uncovering A Story)

Cloudy-headed thoughts arrive
Wanting to tell me something
Wanting to show me something
I follow the thoughts and find myself standing in a plot of unearthed land
And somehow I know, deep within,
There are treasures hiding underneath the soil

I notice a shovel
Lying in the dew-covered morning dirt,
I grab the shovel and – for no logical reason – I dig
And dig
And dig
Hours pass
The sun peeks out from the clouds
Heating the air
And baking my skin
Steam rising off of me
And dripping in small pools down my brow
I dig and I dig
Forgetting myself
Forgetting the time
Forgetting all sensible actions
Until I hit something hard
It’s…
A wooden object
Like a stick
Upon it
Engraved words
From another’s language
I have no idea what the text means
But it is beautiful to look at
Sweeping and lyrical phrases
Which envelop the eyes in a type of visual symphony
And it is old, this object,
Maybe hundreds of years old
I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life
And somehow, at the same time, it is eerily and most-lovingly familiar to me

I continue to carve the object out from the earth
Moving moistened brown dirt up and away
My arms tiring,
Aching and sore,
But my heart a-flutter
Thrilled by the discovery
And as I uncover it more fully
I realize that what I was seeing before, was just a single leg
Out of four
Belonging to a chair

After many hours of labor
The chair is freed from the earth

I hoist it up with all my strength
Set it upon the ground
And gaze at it with wonder

My brain is pulsing with questions
Why was I led here?
Why did I listen to this insane instinct of mine to dig?
How did I know to dig in this exact spot?
And what is this ancient relic?

Is it something I lost long ago that has found it’s way back?
Or is this our first meeting?

And who carved it originally?
Some mysterious and forever nameless face from centuries past
Did this long-gone stranger want it to be found or to remain hidden?
What would they think if they knew this object had ended up in my hands?
Or did the ghost of this stranger always intend for me to find it?

Was it fate that brought me to this strange and beautiful object?
Or simply blind luck?

And…
And…
A part of me even wonders…
Did it always exist there, under the soil?
Or did I somehow dream it into being?

And now that I have birthed it from the earth,
Does it belong to me?

I’m not sure I know
I’m not sure I’ll ever know
But somehow I was led here,
And for now at least,
The mystery of it belongs to me.

-Lucy Schwartz

12352.jpg

 

3/4 Through The War

Koublis_04.jpg

We live in quiet hope
That fear will not rule our hearts
That love will endure
That peace will overcome
That war will end
So that softly and with that same quiet hope
We may start again

-Lucy Schwartz
03_d_FRACTURE_ladders.jpg
tumblr_nuu1xdDPTt1rp9kgfo1_1280.jpg

Note: I do not own the photographs included in this post, but I always try to link the photographs to their original source (when I can find it). If you want to find out more about the beautiful images & the photographers you can click on the images.

Soft

tumblr_mar34blKUO1qz7m92o1_1280.jpg
She always wore the softest sweaters
In the hopes that she would be held.

And she was soft.
And she was held.

Her children clung to her so sweetly
Their little doe eyes drifting off to sleep
Arms wrapped around her
Like she was a great big tree

I tell you, she wore the most unbelievable fabrics
Her clothing felt like pink clouds
Like sheep
Like the silkiest river
Like the fuzzy slippers that you wear in the morning to keep from getting cold
Like a giant but gentle polar bear
Like a dream
And she smelled like pine and cedarwood and roses

And as her children ventured off to dreamland
She kissed them each on the forehead
And counted her blessings.

She always wore the softest sweaters
In the hopes that she would be held.

And she was soft.
And she was held.

-Lucy Schwartz

lars-waestfelt-03.jpg1bFX7.jpg

Note: I do not own the photographs included in this post, but I always try to link the photographs to their original source (when I can find it). If you want to find out more about the beautiful images & the photographers you can click on the images.

Past Lives

The many lives I lived before
Are laid out before me
Like diverging hallways
Echoing
Each door
Wanting to be known
A will-o’-wisp leads me through the chambers
bouncing merrily along the dark, stone, castle corridor
She is the only light in the darkness, but for the dim, flickering, lanterns which adorn the walls,
The wisp looks like the floating ghost of a dog,
or perhaps a butterfly,
It’s hard to tell,
She keeps shifting and changing shape,
At times she turns to nothingness,
Her form stretches outwards into thin air and then returns to itself,
She nearly disappears every time she turns a corner,
I find myself having to walk faster and faster just to keep up,
After a long time of chasing the wisp, we reach an ancient door,
Green, wooden, and covered in moss and vines,
The wisp slyly opens the door and pulls me through,
My body is lifted up into the heavens,
I feel myself drenched in coldness,
As if I am naked in snow,
Consumed by ice,
And I find that I am frozen stiff, completely unable to move,
And yet, I am moving at incredible speed, faster than I have ever traveled before,
And then – with no warning –
I land
Thud!
Heavy as lead
I feel the hard crunch of dirt and grass beneath my feet

And that’s when I see myself
The way I was before
In this other life
How very strange to be looking at another version of myself
She is me and she is not me all at once
She was completely forgotten to me in my consciousness
And yet, it’s very clear she was known to me all along
I can hardly catch my breath

I know now that the past is not an echo
It’s alive

tumblr_mlhvz523wh1s1wxgzo1_500.jpg
tumblr_mgy0c4CZEV1rse1ipo1_1280.jpg
Saoirse Ronan
tumblr_mo16iqnfsV1s59p7wo1_500.jpg

-Lucy Schwartz

Note: I do not own the photographs included in this post, but I always try to link the photographs to their original source (when I can find it). If you want to find out more about the beautiful images & the photographers you can click on the images.

The Twister

tumblr_mo8xznVh3A1r5cncro1_500

My dearest Roan,
Don’t be afraid.

Toss up the winds!
Let them roar!
Welcome the twister who knocks at your door.

Now is not the time to stand firm and unmoving,
Like an old, decaying castle, bombed after battle, with holes in your side,
Crumbling apart but refusing to fall,
Now is a time to let go
To jump into uncertainty
There’s no stopping the winds of change
Once they’ve decided to blow down your house

See,
Here they come now,
Ever closer,
The uninvited guests
Barreling towards you at fantastic speed
Howling like a pack of wild dogs

So let them come
Allow yourself to be swept away
With arms open
Into the wind
Whatever it holds
Sometimes, its the only way to fly.

– Lucy Schwartz

https://www.google.com/search?btnG=1&pws=0&q=Quint+Buchholz+Der+Flug&gws_rd=ssl
1428358455469
Note: I do not own the photographs included in this post.

The Golden Days

You should have seen it then
Gold!
Sparkling in the light
Like the sun dazzling dizzy upon the sea
California
Hot and hopeful
In the days of the rush
Men digging up fortunes
Beneath the brush
All the treasures of the earth
Till now untouched
The kind of dreams you thought you’d never taste
But you always hoped would be so sweet

Two teenage boys
Jerry and Jim
Hopping the freight trains
Like regular jumping jacks
Laughter rolling out of their pockets and ripening into orange trees in the last hours of daylight
And under its leaves, a bit of rest and shade
Two friends
Best of friends
Partners in play
Once, and forever,
(Living) in the golden days

-Lucy Schwartz

aa583e61910973344aec1ed24d80b371
19f6560456ea84a4275ad9c41efc879e
57
portrait3