Tag: beauty

Holy Wild, Muse in Brief

Muse in Media: Tempest Milky Way

Alison Leigh Lilly

Never fear. Though it's no longer August and I'm only two weeks from my wedding day, I have not abandoned the 30 Days of Druidry project. In fact, you can consider this a sneak peek at my up-coming post on Spirit and the gods. This amazing timelapse video was made by Randy Halverson (dakotalapse.com). It features stunning images of the milky way as part of a grand starscape turning above wheat and sunflower fields as thunderstorms blow in. This is definitely one video you should watch full-screen. Click to watch.

Holy Wild, Poetry & Music

How to Become a Poet

Alison Leigh Lilly

When I was a sophomore in high school, I applied for a really exclusive summer school for aspiring student artists. I had been fancying myself a writer since first grade, and more specifically a poet since fourth or fifth. I was anxious but confident. I made it past the first round of interviews.... but I didn't get in. Today I stumbled across two pieces of internet flotsam that reminded me of that teenage, poetry-ridden self of mine. The second was an article by Jim Moore, who recently saw his seventh book of poetry into print. Moore writes: "People sometimes ask, especially parents of aspiring writers, 'What does it take to become a poet?' From my own experience I would say four things matter most. Everything else takes care of itself. ..."

Featured, Holy Wild, Nature Photography

Late Summer Outdoor Altar

Alison Leigh Lilly

A few days ago, our landlord and his son asked us to clear our tiny front porch area while they worked on stripping and repainting the ceiling. Usually we have a small table set out front with a few candles and the odds-and-ends the kids bring back with them from the woods. We don't always do a great job of maintaining this outdoor altar, especially during the cold months of snow and ice... But today, I needed some spiritual down-time to ground in the textures and scents of the earth and replenish my soul a bit. Our landlord's home improvement project seemed a perfect excuse to revisit our outdoor altar with fresh eyes.

Muse in Brief

Ode to the Living Sylvan Land » No Unsacred Place

Alison Leigh Lilly

In my latest post over at No Unsacred Place, I talk about my mixed reactions to the news of the hydro-fracking spill up in northern Pennsylvania last week, and my struggle to stay grounded in my love for the local landscape as a living, holy presence while I confront the injustices and ignorances that cause such saddening destruction. I also highlight some of the inspiring news coming out of local communities in Pennsylvania, where citizens are standing up against pressure from oil and gas companies and working together to protect the lands they love from harmful development: "Local communities are fighting back, resisting the enormous pressure from gas and oil companies (and the politicians they've financed into office) to take advantage of the Marcellus Shale deposit that lies beneath nearly two-thirds of the state's mountains, forests and fields..."

Featured, Holy Wild, peace

Ancient Warriors, Celtic Peace

Alison Leigh Lilly

We consent to our own destruction, with the passing of time, with the changing seasons, with the restless intensity of living and breathing. Above the cold concrete and glass of the city skyline, sharp-wedged forms of birds wheel and tip in the dark, blustering sky. I find myself thinking again that it takes an awful lot of courage to live in this world sometimes, knowing that winter is coming, the dark is coming, and death, too, will eventually arrive to claim us. It takes courage to release ourselves, to enter willingly into the wild dance that whirls in this liminal space between life and death, creation and destruction. In my mind, the image of birds crashing through wind currents and swift-driven clouds commingles with the image of the warrior, poised in grace on the edge of chaos.

Holy Wild, Poetry & Music, story

After Beauty

Alison Leigh Lilly

Strange, that all of a sudden I remember the poem — the smell of the book it was in, like a palmed cigarette stub sweaty and stale with old smoke, and how worn it was, and loose in its faded jacket — and I don't recall the poem itself. Just that it was about a girl — I imagine her with oily hair in waves rich with grief that you could dip your fingers in — and perhaps a convenience store, closed for the night with security fluorescents churning in their cluttered hollows, or a living room in an old apartment with the shades drawn, or at least some other dark, crowded place where the noise and hands are hard and constant, tearing the throat out of dirty evening sunlight.

Holy Wild, peace

These Holy Days

Alison Leigh Lilly

My first customer of the morning was a disheveled-looking woman with suitcases and overflowing canvas tote bags piled up around her in the tiny booth where she sat sipping her coffee and fingering an unlit cigarette back and forth across her knuckles. The waitress from the midnight shift shrugged and shook her head. "It's not like she's out of her right mind or anything..." I glanced at the woman grinning dreamily across the dining room. "When she came in, she threw up her arms in the air in a bear-hug," my manager chimed in, "I thought she was going to attack you!" I walked a fresh pot of coffee over and topped off her mug. The woman winked. "It's cold enough out there to shiver my timbers!" I smiled. "That's what we're here for," I said, gesturing gently with the steaming pot.