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Understanding Poetry


This is a fun way to begin the day. Do we really understand poetry? Or, do we encounter it in some particular way that changes with each new encounter?

Originally posted on Bound 4 Escape:


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I did not see any snowdrops this morning and it is a beautiful day. I did see flowers blooming suggesting that spring is here and won’t be denied. Enjoy your day.

Originally posted on purehaiku:

I watch the gentle
snowdrops nod their heads. Now Spring
will not be denied.
Elizabeth Leaper 2014

Elizabeth Leaper is a poet and has several blogs, one of which can be found at simply elfje

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136 Syllables at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center

Each morning, I sit in the little chapel that is on-site. It is a daily Sabbath I keep up. While in Spokane, I stay in a building that was once a convent and it retained some of convent-like features. I retreat each morning and try to quiet my mind in readiness for entry into the day.

It is interesting to notice what shares the space with me. Sounds come from outside. Crows are cawing and smaller birds cheep. The sunlight casts a finger through windows brightening the space.

Allen Ginsberg captured the essentialquiet and solitude where I am never alone. People visit as thoughts flow. It is a simultaneous opening up to what is around  and what is inside .

When I began sitting in the chapel, I brought my cell phone and checked time. Now, I leave it in the room and my practice suggests when it is appropriate to begin the day.

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.

Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room — Thistles blossomed late afternoon.

Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch.

A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitoes.

At 4 A.M. the two middle-aged men sleeping together holding hands.

In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades.

Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep
cheep cheep.



This is a great acrostic poem that starts my day thinking about what Life is. Whitehead and Dewey said Life and all its manifestations are the only necessary curricula for education.

Originally posted on memyselfandela:

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Happiness,,,, Matthieu Ricard no less……


Mathieu Ricard who is mentioned and quoted above is a Buddhist monk who also holds a PhD in molecular genetics. I am just beginning to read his work on happiness and it is fascinating. Letting go is so important to our happiness. We cannot simply wish and want to be happy. It comes effortlessly with much work. Happiness is a form of paradox.

Originally posted on C PTSD - A Way Out:

“So the way in which we experience these waves of suffering depends a great deal on our attitude.
It is therefore always better to familiarize ourselves with and prepare ourselves for the kind of suffering we are likely to encounter, some of which will be unavoidable, such as illness, old age, and death, rather than to be caught off guard and sink into anguish.
A physical or moral pain can be intense without destroying our positive outlook on life.
Once we have acquired inner well-being, it is easier to maintain our fortitude or to recover it quickly, even when we are confronted externally by difficult circumstances.
Does such peace of mind come simply because we wish it to?
We don’t earn our living just by wishing to.
Likewise, peace is a treasure of the mind that…

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Tewksbury Road

There is something about walking in nature that stimulates all the senses. I come alive in those walks and feel energized. We walked the North Saskatchewan River Valley two years ago during Autumn. The leaves turned colour. Over time, I smelled rich decay as Nature continued in her life-cycle.

Nature celebrates her Sabbath. It is a time of renewal emerging from what was alive. She never wastes.

John Masefield described a pastoral scene I imagined in a multi-sensory way. There is a universality in these scenes that touches the spirit.

It is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where,

Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why;

Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air,

Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.

And to halt at the chattering brook, in a tall green fern at the brink

Where the harebell grows, and the gorse, and the foxgloves purple and white;

Where the shifty-eyed delicate deer troop down to the brook to drink

When the stars are mellow and large at the coming on of the night.

O, to feel the beat of the rain, and the homely smell of the earth,

Is a tune for the blood to jig to, and joy past power of words;

And the blessed green comely meadows are all a-ripple with mirth

At the noise of the lambs at play and the dear wild cry of the birds.



This is such a simple message with such a powerful underlying idea. What it means is largely idiosyncratic. We are unique and beginning will look so different from person-to-person.

Originally posted on Coco J. Ginger Says:

Do your work.
Write. RISK.
C  R  E  A  T  E.

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