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The Ancient One

The Ancient One

Mine is a pilgrimage to peace. I am a spiritual gardener sowing seeds of positive transformation. Life is a tapestry we weave each day and i seek to live by imagination while exploring new possibilities. I am attempting to actualize my highest vision while creating a spiritual environment of love , light and understanding. I walk a path of... more »
  • member since February 1 2009

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The Ancient One’s last login was 21 hours ago. show recent activity »

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Public Notes

  • Litsa M

    Litsa M says

    What is life?
    It is the flash of a firefly in the night.
    It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.
    It is the little shadow which runs across
    the grass and loses itself in the sunset.

    Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior

    posted 3 days ago. ( send a note )
  • Karla F

    Karla F says

    Thank you! That was beautiful.

    posted 9 days ago. ( send a note )
  • Julianna Bleu

    Julianna Bleu says

    That's adorable.

    posted 3 weeks ago. ( send a note )
  • WordGirl

    WordGirl says

    Good day Ancient One... thanks for adding me. I'm wondering though, what prompt you to quote Mother Theresa for me? Perhaps it is more than a random selection.. Suffice to say, it is appropriate.

    posted 3 weeks ago. ( send a note )
  • alwaysange

    alwaysange says

    Thank you for sharing your poetry with me. You have a gift.

    posted 3 weeks ago. ( send a note )
  • Top Hat.

    Top Hat. says

    Here's a personal favourite of mine :)

    Song of Wandering Aengus

    I went out to the hazel wood,
    Because a fire was in my head,
    And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
    And hooked a berry to a thread;
    And when white moths were on the wing,
    And moth-like stars were flickering out,
    I dropped the berry in a stream
    And caught a little silver trout.

    When I had laid it on the floor
    I went to blow the fire aflame,
    But something rustled on the floor,
    And someone called me by my name:
    It had become a glimmering girl
    With apple blossom in her hair
    Who called me by my name and ran
    And faded through the brightening air.

    Though I am old with wandering
    Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
    I will find out where she has gone,
    And kiss her lips and take her hands;
    And walk among long dappled grass,
    And pluck till time and times are done
    The silver apples of the moon,
    The golden apples of the sun.

    — William Butler Yeats

    posted 3 weeks ago. ( send a note )
  • Kitty

    Kitty says

    Are we having a poem-off? Here's one I like:

    Death is nothing at all,
    I have only slipped away
    into the next room.
    I am I,
    and you are you;
    whatever we were to each other,
    that, we still are.

    Call me by my old familiar name,
    speak to me in the easy way
    which you always used,
    put no difference in your tone,
    wear no forced air
    of solemnity or sorrow.

    Laugh as we always laughed
    at the little jokes we shared together.
    Let my name ever be
    the household word that it always was.
    Let it be spoken without effect,
    without the trace of a shadow on it.

    Life means all
    that it ever meant.
    It is the same as it ever was.
    There is unbroken continuity.

    Why should I be out of mind
    because I am out of sight?

    I am waiting for you,
    for an interval,
    somewhere very near,
    just around the corner.

    All is well.

    -Death Is Nothing At All by Henry Scott Holland

    posted 3 weeks ago. ( send a note )
  • Krista J

    Krista J says

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
    --William Butler Yeats

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • TANYA M

    TANYA M says

    hi how are u ...i was not in touch in these days as i did not have access to net...how is life going ..

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Pamala J. Bookhoarder

    Pamala J. Bookhoarder says

    I love that.
    And loved Life of Pi. I still puzzle over the symbolism of the island of floating carnivorous trees, though.

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Hermy

    Hermy says

    That is so nice, thank you so much for sharing it with me :)

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Skaruma

    Skaruma says

    Hello :) Thank you for the add :)

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Pamala J. Bookhoarder

    Pamala J. Bookhoarder says

    Hello again, oh wise and Ancient one. Thanks for befriending me and responding back with a note. I haven't been a member long enough to explore the networking but it sounds like fun. MY, but you have a lot of contacts. You must have been a member here for a very long time and must be kind of like a loftier version of a welcome wagon. HA ha!

    I took a look at your shelf. You have very wide and varied interests. I saw Life of Pi on your to-be-read shelf. I read that a few years ago and it remains a favorite and something that I still puzzle over occasionally. I thought the book was pure genius. I hope you move it up in your TBR pile and enjoy it too.

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Jaie Hart

    Jaie Hart says

    That quote was absolutely beautiful! Thank you so very much for sharing. :) I hope you're having a wonderful evening. :)

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • elphe

    elphe says

    thank you for sharing that awsome poem....

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Gayle M

    Gayle M says

    Welcome oh Ancient One, I think you would be a wonderful asset to a private discussion group called Books of the Occult. I will send you an invitation to join us.

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Mita Sharma

    Mita Sharma says

    With a hope to learn more and improve the less learned..thank you

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Angie

    Angie says

    The Winter of Listening
    by David Whyte

    All those years
    listening to those
    who had
    nothing to say.

    All those years
    forgetting
    how everything
    has its own voice
    to make
    itself heard.

    All those years
    forgetting
    how easily
    you can belong
    to everything
    simply by listening.

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Audrey Adella (:

    Audrey Adella (: says

    Beautiful poem, and thanks for adding me(:

    posted 1 month ago. ( send a note )
  • Nohemi F

    Nohemi F says

    Hello. Thanks for sharing your lovely poem and for the friend's request. Have a beautiful week.

    posted 2 months ago. ( send a note )


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