one for sorrow, two for joy


one for sorrow, two for joy;
three for a girl, four for a boy;
five for silver, six for gold;
seven for a secret, never to be told;
eight for a wish, nine for a kiss;
ten for a bird that's best to miss
.

* .
the magpie (pica pica)
.
an overview:

Magpies seem to be jacks of all trades - scavengers, predators and pest-destroyers, their challenging, almost arrogant attitude has won them few friends. With its noisy chattering, black-and-white plumage and long tail, there is nothing else quite like the magpie in the UK. When seen close-up its black plumage takes on an altogether more colourful hue with a purplish-blue iridescent sheen to the wing feathers, and a green gloss to the tail. Non-breeding birds will gather together in flocks.
.
so, being a bit of a jack myself I scavanged a thought from Dave today. . .

and am revisiting Kahil Gibran's The Prophet. . .
.
Then a woman said,
"Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

.
needs must, eh

10 comments:

mig said...

How absolutely lovely :)

(I'm back!)
hugs
xxx

I, Like The View said...

YOU'RE BACK!!!! you're back!!!

last night, as I was sitting stitching my tapestry, I wondered to myself "when is Mig coming back?" and I hoped that you'd had a good time!!

XXXX

hope you did

and lots of hugs too!!

Mel said...

:-)

She's BACK!!!!

There's a fine example of joy.

(-:

mig said...

I am two magpies :)
Lots more hugs to you all :)
It's really great to be back - I've been clumping around in the snow wishing I could share RIGHT NOW instead of having to wait! And Swedish Lapland is teasingly full of other people's laptops!

Dave said...

I haven't gone anywhere. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to afford to go away again.

Mel said...

Click your heels three times and repeat after me:

There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.

:-)

Ain't it GREAT to be home?! :-)

Mel said...

*waving*

Happy Thursday!

I, Like The View said...

There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.
There's no place like home.


*clicking heels furiously*

Sorrow said...

Home is where the heart is?
I have a booger of a head cold, am blasted tired of winter, but Mig sent me this way, and that is my absolute favorite Gibran.
sigh.
now I need to take my self to bed, and let Joy run rampant thru my house..
LOl

I, Like The View said...

me too sorrow a cold (altho mine is in my bones) feeling generally icky and wanting sunshine and spring

Gibran is excellent, all of them - but this one particularly. . .

hoping you feeling better soon

hugs

XX