"A knowing versus a prayer? If hope is the thing, as Emily Dickinson wrote, with feathers, maybe faith is the thing with wings?" Beautiful ponderings, Jamie! Thank you for sharing your gown with us as you dress us in infinite wisdom! 💕
Thanks as always Sadhbh! Thanks for seeing the man underneath the gown! Thanks for reading and reaching out. Your support from the start here is a gift! As you know- Writing takes time. Presence and Absence. Born of solitude. I appreciate you. Thanks for Being - Here 🙏❤️
You are the poem Jamie. Your flesh, the words. Your soul the shape it takes. Continually changing. Editing afresh with each new dawn of expectation. ❤️
Jamie, aka Zorba, (yes it’s true!) your words are like the first touch of dawn on a quiet lake – gentle, reflective and luminous. Stirring and widening ripples of meaning that reach far beyond the surface, as you invite us to peer beneath the veil of the ordinary and step into the extraordinary.
Truly, I’m so captivated by how you poetically explore the interplay between flesh and soul - that whirling dance of presence and absence. And how faith, like poetry to you, has become a silent yet profound act of surrender to life’s deepest mysteries. I haven’t read Zorba the Greek, yet but feel called to do so, I'll look into it for sure.
As I listened to and read your reflections, I felt as though I was seated at the altar of your dawn, catching light as it curves and embraces the tender edges of soul and flesh. From one poet to another: believe me when I say your words are an invitation to dwell in wonder, and I’m so grateful to have stepped into their light.
And oh, how the morning gown lingers! How it wraps itself around lips and thoughts, embodying the rhythm of your prose. Then came the surprise of your poem - a featherlight touch of awe, effortlessly balancing the weight of longing. Reminding me that without love, light and laughter, the soul risks becoming a puddle of despair.
Your words reach into the marrow, dear poet, offering both solace and illumination - and for that, I thank you. ❤️🙏
Deborah! One of the final dances into the Being of a green witch is the Sirtaki! Oh Kazantzakis was a wizard. He knew Jung. You will love the biblical poetry of his writing! Zorba waits. You already live it! Bless you. Your poetic replies are never taken for granted. Thanks for listening too! The altar of dawn has secrets to share. Thanks for meeting me Here. A soul journey! 🙏❤️
Ah, well, it looks as though Kazantzakis will soon be sleeping and dreaming on my book shelves then with all the other poets, including yourself. In fact when Zorba arrives, I'll put him next to your own beautiful book and then you can both create odes to the art of living unapologetically, together! :)
Now that’s an honour for me to be anywhere near that priest of the invisible! And you, Deborah are a priestess of the same stature! Thanks for being here 🙏❤️ I know you will love meeting Zorba! I think you’ll recognize some archetypes.
Gorgeous dawning, inviting a new day of poeisis to unfold.
"Church to me as a child was mysterious. A place to sit and not speak. The inviting smells of swinging incense. The chanting sounds of an ancient knowing. Lots of dark colours filling the kneeling pews. Church was a scent. Church was a sound."
I can very much relate to this. Growing up in the Holy Land, we used to go to many churches and sacred places, not just of 'our Lutheran denomination'. So I am familiar with the smells of frankincense evaporating from swinging brass vessels, the chanting in an unknown language, the flickering light of hundreds of candles. Greek orthodox, Russian orthodox, Coptic orthodox, wherever we went we'd most certainly end up in or pass through a place sacred to someone.
Faith is the thing with wings! A wholehearted YES to that. 🦅 🪶 🤍🙏 🎶 🕊️
Sometimes the soul needs those wings to lift that body (never mind her own spirit)
Reverie and your poem join us here. May this spring keep us in good company with your words and graceful poems. Yesterday I was at a funeral of a good neighbour; body and soul. A grandchild recited Christina Rosetti and the April wind passed by. Words in good faith can do.
I am reading carefully, and all the good comments.
Kazantzakis in the dawning light, perhaps at the corner.
Thanks Phillip! Dancing to Theodorakis! Bless your neighbour as they pass through. To the other side of language. The wind knows. Thank you for being a force of light in my world. 🙏❤️
Ah, Jamie—your contemplation goes beyond the self. Remembering. The way you explore faith, the colors of the soul, and your sense of wonder: " A presence and an absence. It feels like I have a place, an existence, in both. A paradox?"
You write so beautifully. To lean into the gift of this kind of faith—the quiet act of watching without trying to contain, just allowing ourselves to witness.
I loved this line: "Dawn is what I have come to know as faith. She loyally arrives in a consummation of colour. Every day. Faith just arrives. A knowing. Darkness releasing her light. Day born of night. Remembering." It stayed with me. You manage to see right through everything, not with your eyes, but with your soul—and you spill that soul across the pages of your notebook.
Thank you for bringing up Nikos Kazantzakis—he’s one of my favorites too. A deeply spiritual, brilliant being who made me wonder, laugh, and embrace both light and shadow. His writing got me feel that intuition and intellect don’t have to be opposites—that everything can complement everything else, if we stop trying to take sides.
Everything is everywhere, if we're willing to look—really look—not only with our eyes.
Ah Katerina! Thank you for your kind words! I’m glad you love Kazantzakis! Zorba is only one of his gifts. You will see lots of archetypes flowing through all of his work. I love what you said about his writing.
Spilling soul all over a page is all I could ever hope to do! Thanks for seeing the unseen. The witnessing. The observation on the other side of the lens. “Everything is everywhere, if we're willing to look—really look—not only with our eyes.” Now that’s a poem you just shared. To me that morning gown doesn’t see with eyes. It just knows. Remembering. Faith. We are the poem. Thank you so much for being here. I look forward to your next piece too!
I listen to your post in the waking, breaking dawn, stretching out and rupturing the cocooning veil between the two worlds — I feel.
We make sacred, these moments of wonder in a day — when we are lead to notice her offerings, an observance of our soul. Our body is of service to our soul, its exploration of the physicality of existence — one aspect of its expansiveness. Sometimes I wonder how many bodies our soul inhabits, in how many dimensions — our infinite universe, all wrapped up in your morning robe, harbouring the contemplation of our be-ing. There is such beauty in the seeming simplicity and wonder of a new day, and that may be the soul’s calling to her human curiosity?
I feel that faith is a deeper knowing — that is beyond naming or explanation — for exploration — a “poem”. And with each cycle of being, with each day, comes the possibilities to create among the beauty of the day — to answer our soul’s calling, as you have done with your beautiful prose and poetry of being. 🙏 💙 🌅
Thank you so much for being here Simone! You always write a poem with your responses! You give me so much to think about and to write about! Living into the questions. Definitely a soul journey. Be-ing. Sacred awe! 🌀🙏💗
Somehow, it’s knowing the mystery and not needing to fully understand. As I grow a little grayer I’m starting to realize that meaning might just elude me. Yet I still know something is there. Is here. Slowly I surrender into it. I remember!
Thanks so much for all your support Sam .Your poetry is inspiring. Keep writing. We need you. 🙏❤️
As all ways Jo! You always make me smile! Yes, the wind tickles under the gown and has secrets to tell. The gown blushes back. Thank you for always showing up here. When I started, there were only a few here. One was you. Without that initial support I wouldn’t be here sharing. Growing. Writing into the mystery. Thanks for being a kindred spirit. I appreciate you. 🙏❤️
Yes! I love this: "The closest thing to a bible or a holy book for me has always been Zorba the Greek, written by the incredible spiritual priest we know as Nikos Kazantzakis."
Zorba the Greek - good choice of Bible. I would appreciate the aromas of orthodox christianity now much more than the austere grey evangelical 'free church' stuff of yesteryear. Your writing almost makes me want to set foot inside a church again - (something I vowed I'd never do after leaving). Still. I appreciate the sense of the senses and the role it plays in the mystery of life, which as you say, might be approached humbly but never grasped and appropriated. And in accepting that, we find a certain peace. Religion at its best invokes wonder - which you post does.
Thanks Josh! I appreciate your kind words and contemplation as always. I’ll meet you at the church of mystery! Invoking wonder and awe. In the spaces between the words. 🙏❤️
You wrote, "Faith is a poem. A flower whose gaze I meet. I rest my head in her lap.
I let my mind fall silent and the words arrive." Someone, probably you, once told me 'silent' has all the same letters as 'listen', just arranged differently. You do, in fact, need to be silent to listen and, to be done presently, listen to be silent. You do both. Very well, I might add.
Yes, you wear a morning gown, but even underneath your clothes, you are naked. You wear your nakedness beautifully. Always vulnerable, always curious, always caught in wonder. You share openly and wildly and that, my friend, is so beautiful. Thank you. You humble us all. You invite us all in to sit for a while, to silent listen together, to share with one another, to allow us each to be seen and heard, be supported and encouraged, to wear each other. In those ways faith IS your deeper knowing. XO
“To wear eachother”… Thank you so much Danielle that’s a poem! We wear each other. That just brought on a feeling. If that’s what we’re doing here…. Listen, silent, share, be seen, be heard, be supported. Wear eachother. Touching upon our nakedness. Feeling into a bigger conversation. Beyond ourselves. Thanks for being here. I know you’ve been on one hell of a journey. I celebrate everything you’ve accomplished, and everything you are still becoming. Now get naked in the forest 🙏❤️
"A knowing versus a prayer? If hope is the thing, as Emily Dickinson wrote, with feathers, maybe faith is the thing with wings?" Beautiful ponderings, Jamie! Thank you for sharing your gown with us as you dress us in infinite wisdom! 💕
Thanks as always Sadhbh! Thanks for seeing the man underneath the gown! Thanks for reading and reaching out. Your support from the start here is a gift! As you know- Writing takes time. Presence and Absence. Born of solitude. I appreciate you. Thanks for Being - Here 🙏❤️
You are the poem Jamie. Your flesh, the words. Your soul the shape it takes. Continually changing. Editing afresh with each new dawn of expectation. ❤️
Thanks Alice-Ann! Soul shaping is a journey! Transformation. To let ourselves be changed. Thanks for reading and Being - Here. 🙏❤️
Jamie, aka Zorba, (yes it’s true!) your words are like the first touch of dawn on a quiet lake – gentle, reflective and luminous. Stirring and widening ripples of meaning that reach far beyond the surface, as you invite us to peer beneath the veil of the ordinary and step into the extraordinary.
Truly, I’m so captivated by how you poetically explore the interplay between flesh and soul - that whirling dance of presence and absence. And how faith, like poetry to you, has become a silent yet profound act of surrender to life’s deepest mysteries. I haven’t read Zorba the Greek, yet but feel called to do so, I'll look into it for sure.
As I listened to and read your reflections, I felt as though I was seated at the altar of your dawn, catching light as it curves and embraces the tender edges of soul and flesh. From one poet to another: believe me when I say your words are an invitation to dwell in wonder, and I’m so grateful to have stepped into their light.
And oh, how the morning gown lingers! How it wraps itself around lips and thoughts, embodying the rhythm of your prose. Then came the surprise of your poem - a featherlight touch of awe, effortlessly balancing the weight of longing. Reminding me that without love, light and laughter, the soul risks becoming a puddle of despair.
Your words reach into the marrow, dear poet, offering both solace and illumination - and for that, I thank you. ❤️🙏
Deborah! One of the final dances into the Being of a green witch is the Sirtaki! Oh Kazantzakis was a wizard. He knew Jung. You will love the biblical poetry of his writing! Zorba waits. You already live it! Bless you. Your poetic replies are never taken for granted. Thanks for listening too! The altar of dawn has secrets to share. Thanks for meeting me Here. A soul journey! 🙏❤️
Ah, well, it looks as though Kazantzakis will soon be sleeping and dreaming on my book shelves then with all the other poets, including yourself. In fact when Zorba arrives, I'll put him next to your own beautiful book and then you can both create odes to the art of living unapologetically, together! :)
Now that’s an honour for me to be anywhere near that priest of the invisible! And you, Deborah are a priestess of the same stature! Thanks for being here 🙏❤️ I know you will love meeting Zorba! I think you’ll recognize some archetypes.
Archetypes, archetypes, did you say, archetypes! Oh how the green witch's ears twitch! Thank you, I can't wait. 🧙♀️💚
Breathtakingly beautiful. I have missed your voice. It is good to be back in such fine company. I will be reading this again and again. Thank you.
Thanks Muriel! We share a connection to these local trees and an eldering energy of becoming! I appreciate you! 🙏❤️
Gorgeous dawning, inviting a new day of poeisis to unfold.
"Church to me as a child was mysterious. A place to sit and not speak. The inviting smells of swinging incense. The chanting sounds of an ancient knowing. Lots of dark colours filling the kneeling pews. Church was a scent. Church was a sound."
I can very much relate to this. Growing up in the Holy Land, we used to go to many churches and sacred places, not just of 'our Lutheran denomination'. So I am familiar with the smells of frankincense evaporating from swinging brass vessels, the chanting in an unknown language, the flickering light of hundreds of candles. Greek orthodox, Russian orthodox, Coptic orthodox, wherever we went we'd most certainly end up in or pass through a place sacred to someone.
Faith is the thing with wings! A wholehearted YES to that. 🦅 🪶 🤍🙏 🎶 🕊️
Sometimes the soul needs those wings to lift that body (never mind her own spirit)
Reverie and your poem join us here. May this spring keep us in good company with your words and graceful poems. Yesterday I was at a funeral of a good neighbour; body and soul. A grandchild recited Christina Rosetti and the April wind passed by. Words in good faith can do.
I am reading carefully, and all the good comments.
Kazantzakis in the dawning light, perhaps at the corner.
PS Theodorakis I mention while the music lasts.
Thanks Phillip! Dancing to Theodorakis! Bless your neighbour as they pass through. To the other side of language. The wind knows. Thank you for being a force of light in my world. 🙏❤️
Ah, Jamie—your contemplation goes beyond the self. Remembering. The way you explore faith, the colors of the soul, and your sense of wonder: " A presence and an absence. It feels like I have a place, an existence, in both. A paradox?"
You write so beautifully. To lean into the gift of this kind of faith—the quiet act of watching without trying to contain, just allowing ourselves to witness.
I loved this line: "Dawn is what I have come to know as faith. She loyally arrives in a consummation of colour. Every day. Faith just arrives. A knowing. Darkness releasing her light. Day born of night. Remembering." It stayed with me. You manage to see right through everything, not with your eyes, but with your soul—and you spill that soul across the pages of your notebook.
Thank you for bringing up Nikos Kazantzakis—he’s one of my favorites too. A deeply spiritual, brilliant being who made me wonder, laugh, and embrace both light and shadow. His writing got me feel that intuition and intellect don’t have to be opposites—that everything can complement everything else, if we stop trying to take sides.
Everything is everywhere, if we're willing to look—really look—not only with our eyes.
Thank you for the questions, the poem, the space.
For the gift of contemplation.
Ah Katerina! Thank you for your kind words! I’m glad you love Kazantzakis! Zorba is only one of his gifts. You will see lots of archetypes flowing through all of his work. I love what you said about his writing.
Spilling soul all over a page is all I could ever hope to do! Thanks for seeing the unseen. The witnessing. The observation on the other side of the lens. “Everything is everywhere, if we're willing to look—really look—not only with our eyes.” Now that’s a poem you just shared. To me that morning gown doesn’t see with eyes. It just knows. Remembering. Faith. We are the poem. Thank you so much for being here. I look forward to your next piece too!
🙏❤️
Hi Jamie,
I listen to your post in the waking, breaking dawn, stretching out and rupturing the cocooning veil between the two worlds — I feel.
We make sacred, these moments of wonder in a day — when we are lead to notice her offerings, an observance of our soul. Our body is of service to our soul, its exploration of the physicality of existence — one aspect of its expansiveness. Sometimes I wonder how many bodies our soul inhabits, in how many dimensions — our infinite universe, all wrapped up in your morning robe, harbouring the contemplation of our be-ing. There is such beauty in the seeming simplicity and wonder of a new day, and that may be the soul’s calling to her human curiosity?
I feel that faith is a deeper knowing — that is beyond naming or explanation — for exploration — a “poem”. And with each cycle of being, with each day, comes the possibilities to create among the beauty of the day — to answer our soul’s calling, as you have done with your beautiful prose and poetry of being. 🙏 💙 🌅
Thank you so much for being here Simone! You always write a poem with your responses! You give me so much to think about and to write about! Living into the questions. Definitely a soul journey. Be-ing. Sacred awe! 🌀🙏💗
A poem has been poking — for a few days, perhaps it starts here 🙏 🤣 💜
🧚🏡👨🌾🪶💐🪕🪘🌊🚐🧚♂️
🤣🖤🙏🏼
Thanks Lady G! 🙏❤️
Slow sunrise~ Souled skin
surrenders to faithful flesh?
Sigh~ spring smiles.
Thank you Marisol
Faith always speaks to the soul
Flesh is the witness
Thank you for stopping by ! I appreciate you reading and reaching out 🙏❤️
"Is faith about belonging or letting go?
Is faith about a deeper knowing?
A deeper knowing that doesn’t need a name or an explanation.
Remembering."
i like the idea that faith can be about a deeper knowing. having faith doesn't mean walking blindly in life. it may have to do with understanding.
Somehow, it’s knowing the mystery and not needing to fully understand. As I grow a little grayer I’m starting to realize that meaning might just elude me. Yet I still know something is there. Is here. Slowly I surrender into it. I remember!
Thanks so much for all your support Sam .Your poetry is inspiring. Keep writing. We need you. 🙏❤️
The Tao that can be spoken……
Thanks Charlie! Somehow I’m feeling into it first 🙏❤️
I think we will always be feeling into it.
Jamie, I smiled when I saw your dressing gown. It felt so intimate I might have blushed! Intimate yet at home/homely.
I just absolutely love your musing and poem. My fav so far in 18 months of our Substack relationship. :-) I resonate with so much you share.
Stunning. Thank you. Enjoy those Spring lips and eyes and flowers. ❤️
As all ways Jo! You always make me smile! Yes, the wind tickles under the gown and has secrets to tell. The gown blushes back. Thank you for always showing up here. When I started, there were only a few here. One was you. Without that initial support I wouldn’t be here sharing. Growing. Writing into the mystery. Thanks for being a kindred spirit. I appreciate you. 🙏❤️
Thank you Jamie. Likewise. ❤️🙏
“My soul contains my body” - a perspective I need to contemplate. Beautiful insights here.🩵
Thank you so much Grace 🙏❤️
I need to listen again, Jamie. So much to think about today
Yes! I love this: "The closest thing to a bible or a holy book for me has always been Zorba the Greek, written by the incredible spiritual priest we know as Nikos Kazantzakis."
Thanks Mo! I remember that article you wrote years ago on Zorba! One of the best I’ve ever read! Thanks for reading! Hope all is well 🙏❤️
Zorba the Greek - good choice of Bible. I would appreciate the aromas of orthodox christianity now much more than the austere grey evangelical 'free church' stuff of yesteryear. Your writing almost makes me want to set foot inside a church again - (something I vowed I'd never do after leaving). Still. I appreciate the sense of the senses and the role it plays in the mystery of life, which as you say, might be approached humbly but never grasped and appropriated. And in accepting that, we find a certain peace. Religion at its best invokes wonder - which you post does.
Thanks Josh! I appreciate your kind words and contemplation as always. I’ll meet you at the church of mystery! Invoking wonder and awe. In the spaces between the words. 🙏❤️
A whispered, "so beautiful!"
You wrote, "Faith is a poem. A flower whose gaze I meet. I rest my head in her lap.
I let my mind fall silent and the words arrive." Someone, probably you, once told me 'silent' has all the same letters as 'listen', just arranged differently. You do, in fact, need to be silent to listen and, to be done presently, listen to be silent. You do both. Very well, I might add.
Yes, you wear a morning gown, but even underneath your clothes, you are naked. You wear your nakedness beautifully. Always vulnerable, always curious, always caught in wonder. You share openly and wildly and that, my friend, is so beautiful. Thank you. You humble us all. You invite us all in to sit for a while, to silent listen together, to share with one another, to allow us each to be seen and heard, be supported and encouraged, to wear each other. In those ways faith IS your deeper knowing. XO
“To wear eachother”… Thank you so much Danielle that’s a poem! We wear each other. That just brought on a feeling. If that’s what we’re doing here…. Listen, silent, share, be seen, be heard, be supported. Wear eachother. Touching upon our nakedness. Feeling into a bigger conversation. Beyond ourselves. Thanks for being here. I know you’ve been on one hell of a journey. I celebrate everything you’ve accomplished, and everything you are still becoming. Now get naked in the forest 🙏❤️