Colored Pencils

, originally uploaded by

Jennifer Belthoff


I have been quiet here lately. Turning into myself. Looking find answers to some questions within my heart. As it turns out though there is no need for me to answer any questions. Someone has answered them for me. So I would like to share with you a poem from the great David Whyte.

The House of Belonging

I awoke

this morning

in the gold light

turning this way

and that

thinking for

a moment

it was one


like any other.


the veil had gone

from my

darkened heart


I thought

it must have been the quiet


that filled my room,

it must have been

the first

easy rythm

with which I breathed

myself to sleep,

it must have been

the prayer I said

speaking to the otherness

of the night.


I thought

this is the good day

you could

meet your love,

this is the black day

someone close

to you could die.

This is the day

you realize

how easily the thread

is broken

between this world

and the next

and I found myself

sitting up

in the quiet pathway

of light,

the tawny

close grained cedar

burning round

me like fire

and all the angels of this housely

heaven ascending

through the first

roof of light

the sun has made.

This is the bright home

in which I live,

this is where

I ask

my friends

to come,

this is where I want

to love all the things

it has taken me so long

to learn to love.

This is the temple

of my adult aloneness

and I belong

to that aloneness

as I belong to my life.

There is no house

like the house of belonging.