Temple of Solace

“Art is not tame, and Nature is not wild, in the ordinary sense. A perfect work of man’s art would also be wild or natural in a good sense.”

- Henry David Thoreau

“Let the wheel spin out,
Till all created things
With shout and answering shout
Cast off rememberings…”

- Philip Larkin

Attribution: Philip Larkin (1922–1986), British poet. “All catches alight.”

courtesy e-notes quotes.

“I turn my head to sky rains falling,
wash the wounds of numbness from my soul.
Turn my heart in tides of fierce renewal,
where love and rage run whole.
Come drink deep.”

- Carolyn McDade

Attribution: Carolyn McDade (20th century), folk–singer and hymn-writer. Worship Comes Alive. “Come Drink Deep,” l. 6-10 (1991).

courtesy e-notes quotes  

Heather’s post for Darryl’s birthday was chosen within a week of her own for Featured Blog for the Temple. This is wonderful, Heather. A great tribute.

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

Lighting a candle at the Temple for the people of Peru.

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

On the following day of Lori’s post picked up by Portugese WordPress, English WordPress have captured the post made giving the news, with Temple of Solace again appearing as “Featured Blog”. Fantastic. This follows Heather’s post for Bo being featured a little earlier this month. The Temple is proving a place where people want to gather.

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

Portugese WordPress have given accolades to Lori’s post on grief. Like the accolades for Heather’s post for Bo, the Temple of Solace been listed as a “Featured Blog”. Congratulations, Lori!

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

On Saturday the 11th August 2007, southern hemisphere time, Heather’s “Wintered Womb” post for Bo was featured blog for WordPress in English Language (above), and then in Spanish (below). Here are the shots of the selection, showing the Temple and what it offers, as well as a great post and image from Enchanteur. We are all really proud. (Imogen)

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

Some words of wisdom…

Loss and Gain

“When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.

But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Found these words again, full of wisdom and common sense, so I thought I’d post them here at the Temple.

If

“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!”

Rudyard Kipling

This poem is from a book about the seasons of life, and seeing it’s nearly Spring, this fits for now, coming out of Winter.

“God - stir the soil,
Run the ploughshare deep,
Cut the furrows round and round,
Overturn the hard, dry ground,
Spare no strength nor toil,
Even though I weep.
In the loose, fresh mangled earth
Sow new seed.
Free of withered vine and weed
bring fresh flowers to birth.”

Friends forever
in the currency of soul,
abiding, thriving,
in infinity,
in gold.

No beginning,
no end,
blessings sent,
love
received.

A currency of
gold,
not sold, tainted,
or left bereft.

Friends in gold
live in an abundant
state of knowing,
oak-like,
forever.

In reciprocity,
in gold,
ever after,
evermore.

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

The Temple of Solace and Soul Food Cafe are volunteer run, free-to-access, online resources that help many people around the global community.

If you would like to do something to help, there are various ways to contribute:

1. Join the community and post pieces that will provide comfort and support to others.

2. Comment on people’s writings.

3. Offer support to people who may need it.

4. Send artist trading cards that can be used in care packages.

5. Visit the Soul Food Cafe Front Page and make a donation, no matter how small.

6. Visit the Cafepress hosted “Soul Food Cafe” online store and make a purchase.

7. Buy recommended resources through this site.

8. Contact Heather Blakey at technologicalgarden at gmail.com and become a Wild Gardener.

Browse the Temple Directory

Honour the blessed dead,
as self would honour self,
They are wise as the stars,
float, breathe, glow, flow,
industrious.
Their ever-turning universe,
the Green Dragon,
sages, robes,
The Wise,
fire by, like flames propelled
by a different force,
believed in, known.

The Unknowable and the
unknowing, is accepted
and overseen, without
judgement or speculation,
yet it is wise beyond
earth’s knowing.

Honour the blessed dead.

(Inspired by Rupert Brooke’s “Clouds”.)

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

Footnote:

Knowing virtually nothing about Rupert Brooke, yet being led to this piece of perfection in poetry on a very difficult subject, I decided to find out more about him. In my mind, when I read his words, I assumed he was a wise, elderly gentleman who had lived out a long life of rich meaning. This can be seen in his sage-like use of words, expressed way beyond the usual understanding. However, it was the biggest surprise to find him a wise old sage of twenty-seven when he died, though with much experience behind him, nonetheless. Here is the link to the Rupert Brooke Society. So I guess what I am really doing is paying homage to him, for in my own difficult time, his words have brought comfort to me. Viva, Rupert Brooke, 1887-1915, “Clouds” was written in 1913 when he was in service in the First World War at twenty-six.

Woe to the status quo,
the rigid stone,
the hard bone,
the bough break,
the stand still.

Woe.

Venus is in
communicado with
Saturn,
and the heavens
alight,
with sparks of
stars.

Go.

For the love of
Venus,
Saturn melts in
the light, -
transforming -
in communicado.

Slow.

The rivers flow,
nature aglow,
light at night,
sparkling stars
adrift, the
crescent moon,
sighs.

Heavens above,
scrupulous love.

Grow.

(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)