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Early afternoon, when the sun's still high, is the best time for sleeping under a tree. During those hours, a warm shade comes straight down around the trunk. Any clothing that is not crumple-proof is suitable. The idea is to wake up wrinkled on the outside but straightened out a bit on the inside.
~John Sinor~
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Song Of The Wind
Listen closely as the gentle wind blows
It sings songs of joy for you
Of sweet places where pure water flows
It sings of mountains, trees and misty dew.
It sings a lonely sacred song
As it whistles through the pines
It sings to us and we must listen
With our hearts, our souls, our minds
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Till There was you
*
There were bells on the hill,
But I never heard them ringing.
No, I never heard them at all,
Till there was you.
*
There were birds in the sky,
But I never saw them winging.
No, I never saw them at all,
Till there was you.
*
And there was music,
And there were wonderful roses
They tell me
In sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew.
*
There was love all round
But I never heard it singing.
No, I never heard it at all,
Till there was you.
*
There was love all around,
But I never heard it singing.
No, I never heard it at all,
Till there was you.
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| Who made the mountains, Who made the trees? Who made the rivers flow to the sea? And who sends the rain when the earth is dry? Somebody bigger than you and I!
Who made the flowers to bloom in the spring? Who made the song for the robins to sing? And who hung the moon and the stars in the sky? Somebody bigger than you and I!
He lights the way when the road is long, He keeps you company, and His love to guide you, He walks beside you just like He walks with me!
When I am filled with despair, Who gives me courage to go on from there? And who gives me faith that will never die? Somebody bigger than you and I!
(Lange, Heath, and Burke,
Music and Lyrics)
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Ancient Wisdom
He who knows the ways of beast and birds,
Who can distinguish them by sound and cry,
Who knows the bright quicksilver life in streams,
The courses that the stars take in the sky,
May never had laid hands on books, yet he,
Is sharing wisdom with infinity.
*
He who works with sensitive deft hands
At any woodcraft, will absorb the rain,
The sunlight and the starlight and the dew,
That entered in the making of it's grain;
He should grow tall and straight and clean and good,
Who daily breathes the essence of wood,
*
He who finds companionship in rocks,
And comfort in the touch of vine and leaf,
Who climbs a hill for joy, and shouts a song,
Who loves the feel of wind, will know no grief;
No loneliness that ever grows too great;
For he will never be quite desolate...
He shares, who is companioned long with these,
All ancient wisdom and philosophies.
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