#offering

These are public posts tagged with #offering. You can interact with them if you have an account anywhere in the fediverse.

Josh

I regret to inform you that if you are repenting as a means by which to enter the kingdom of heaven, your repentance is not different than Cain's offering.

That is not the offering God desires. You have not understood the story.

#theology #salvation #faith #genesis #christian #torah #bible #offering

Oct 31, 2024, 18:52 · · 0 · 0
Doyu Shonin

At this high bridge begins silence, even
as whitecapped water beneath
runs against rock and fills the hearing

with its white roar; this is not the sound
of human trivialities, of men disrespecting
women, women turning aside

with embarrassed smiles from men,
the sound of pulling of tabs,
ripping of aluminum, assorted

purrs and rumbles of fire along the pavement,
wrapped in steel. She gathers her oldest friends,
space blanket, matchsafe, whistle, map,

cheese, bread, water bottle, and poncho,
and stuffs them in her old firefighter's vest.
This is a new place, but deduction finds

the lightly traveled path, snaking across
a landscape steeped in stillness.
The vine maples have yet no leaves,

and the moss-lined nests in their jointures
contain no eggs. There are times
when tall firs on these ridges

creak and suffer, a forest of bent masts
in a wind-smashed harbor: this is no such time.
She has been used to walking alone in forests;

has walked among peaks dawn-rosed
at sunrise, or hunkered under wuther
of rain-heavy winds, or under smother of clouds

among tree-trunks. Now, for a sudden,
she stops, puzzling her alienness. What
can be different? There are yellow violets,

trilliums, oxalis. She gathers moss and horse lettuce,
a couple of conks, and pebbles, yet connection
is missing. Her heart leaps cold in her chest,

and her pulse rattles. On an impulse she whirls
round on her track, examines
the trail behind her and a hillside of

silences. The silence is plural, but how
do you read absence? What does she not see?
Bear? Cougar? It is a feeling one has

when the sights of the rifle are trained
on the back of one's neck. Often in life
she has felt this, but only in cities

and the lifelines of cities, those rivers
of asphalt and their pageant of strangers.
She must establish herself here, she feels;

some introduction has been omitted. She searches
her vest and locates an old pipe,
a treasure remaining from another life;

it goes where she goes, though she thinks of it seldom.
There is little tobacco in the bowl, but enough,
and she chooses a bit of mountain,

a leaf of kinnikinnik, to add. Self-consciously
borrowing culture, she aims the pipe
at four points of the compass, the grey sky,

the soundless earth at her feet, then sits
fumbling with the lid of her matchsafe.
Fire lit, she sends smoke quietly aloft.

It rises uncertainly, then finds the drift
of cold air sliding downslope into evening.
Whatever seemed angry seems to her angry still,

but gives way before the smoke of offering,
and makes with her a capful of truce: she will not
be eaten today, it seems, tripped up, or smashed.

She will not name the place, "place where I broke
my leg" or "place where I lost my spirit."
In return, she must finish this hike now

and not soon return. Replacing the horse lettuce,
conks, moss, and stones, she wryly smiles
a little: if this is superstition, so let it be,

she says to herself. We do what we have to do.
The silence, which she'd thought a hieroglyph
of an unknown tongue, nods and agrees.


#hiking #cougar #offering #poem #poetry
Poem by Shonin from about 2002. IIRC the forest she hiked in has burned over five times since: in 2005, 2017, 2021, 2022, 2023.

Oct 28, 2024, 01:51 · · 1 · 0
lobster

Dear friends of Nun/non smokers,
Just been for a #Sunday #morning #walk in the #foxy drizzle. Only the occasional smoker, dog #walking it's owner. The #leaves of #autumn for blowing wind off.

Just back in time for a crone coffee and #candle #offering to Her #Hollyness the #Chenrezig Christmas.

Oh and there was a police siren to #wake up those requiring early morning #puja.

Today I have plenty of #plans to #abandon. Letters not to write. #Chocolate to melt and ... I think I may just go back to sleep with a #cat I don't have and #chant #softly to the #ghosts of Scroogle the searching engine of Christmas gruel passed ... :byebrows:

Dec 03, 2023, 07:13 · · 0 · 0
lobster

Dear Friends of #Yama, :ablobblastoff:
I like her #unexpected #scythe, her #dementor type #garb. Her angry #stomping.

As we may know, #death comes in #unexpected #forms, not always to those who deserve; The #innocent, the #pure, the by stander. The scythe cuts #wheat,
#chaff, #trees and #everyone.

#Today is a #good day to #Live, as the #Klingons might say (not in this #fantasy)

Just a #reminder to #prepare. We won't be bringing what we stand up in. Your coin for the #river #Styx is #invalid currency. You can try #offering a #fish sole, shoo sole, soul solo. No use. The row is over. The furthest shore empty.

#Rest In #Peaces
britannica.com/topic/Yama-Hind

#treesofmastodon #earthcommons #moorland #dartmoor #Moor #Earth #tree

Yama | Ruler of Dead, Judge of Souls & Lord of Dharma

Yama, in the mythology of India, the god of the dead.…

www.britannica.com
Nov 30, 2023, 05:38 · · 0 · 1
WIST Quotations has moved!

A quotation from Emerson, Ralph Waldo:

«
The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a gem; the sailor, coral and shells; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.
»

Full quote, sourcing, notes:
wist.info/emerson-ralph-waldo/

#quote #quotes #quotation #gift #giving #offering #sacrifice #self

"Gifts," Essays: Second Series, No. 5 (1844). - Emerson, Ralph Waldo | WIST Quotations

The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed…

WIST
Nov 25, 2023, 21:24 · · 1 · 0
cohan

#Māras /Mara's Day or Great Mother Day in the #Latvian tradtion- is now mostly celebrated Aug 15, conflated with the Virgin Mary; really it should be around Aug 6, for the cross-quarter day between Summer Solstice/Autumn Equinox. Māra is the #prechristian Great/Earth Mother celebrated several times a year. This one marks final flowering, harvest, final days of summer. Digital altar this year, +more in this #blog post from 2021 with an #altar #offering
cohanmagazine.blogspot.com/202 #animist #pagan

photo collage in 9 panels, framed in very dark violet in centre blending to pale yellow gree top and bottom. There is added framing in outer border, a quietly frilly decoration of fine black dots, overlaid with a fine white line with additonal fine loopy scribbles in each corner. Clear large text in earthy gold across the two centre lines says Blessed Mara's Day. Images are two pods of peas, a green a purply; an aster with bee with buzzing wings; bright yellow sow thistle against black shade background and tiny bee. My fingers holding two small stones found on the gravel road- one is worn black with faint lines almost suggesting an abstract face, the other a nearly square whitish stone, pitted lined and gently lumpy; a small frog sits on green leaves, as does a shiny flower fly, and finally, a cluster of half red crab-apples.
Aug 16, 2023, 20:58 · · 3 · 0

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