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Monthly Archives: July 2013


Parker Palmer wrote this poem with double-meaning in the title. I can live life as a process which ravages, furrows, and scars m face. Living in the past does this. Life is harrowing that way. Or, I leave the travails of yesterday as humis or humility as a foundation for a new crop. I can turn soil, make it richer, and create a greener world.

The poem reminded me of Gadamer‘s concept of fused horizons which is emerging as a central concept in my journey. We can build on the past by using it, good and bad, as a way of making the future a better place. Today’s view; this moment is the place we find our way from.

The plow has savaged this sweet field

Misshapen clods of earth kicked up

Rocks and twisted roots exposed to view

Last year’s growth demolished by the blade.

I have plowed my life this way

Turned over a whole history

Looking for the roots of what went wrong

Until my face is ravaged, furrowed, scarred.

Enough. This job is done.

Whatever’s been uprooted, let it be.

Seedbed for the growing that’s to come.

I plowed to unearth last year’s reasons—

The farmer plows to plant a greening season.

Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything.

I get to listen to CKUA on the Internet and it allows me to feel like I am at home still with the eclectic music and shows. Sometimes, it does not have to be on and I am listening to my own music.


MusicFrom Sun Gazing

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The happy lamppost!

This reminded me of a picture that Kathy took as she drove down through Glacier National Park. It has the same quality of being framed against the blue sky. Enjoy.


I can hear your heart beaming
Your light shinning through
The bluest of skies, crowned
By a Lei of yellow and green
Enhancing the azure above.

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This is a beautiful way to describe the role of poetry in a person’s life, or any writing for that matter

Ars Poetica

My writing is one-dimensional now. I wrote a lot this week. I spend 15-30 minutes everyday free-writing and do more formal writing for classes and dissertation. Nothing has popped up for new poetry, but I feel that will change over the next week or two. Slowly, I am finding that creative, meditative space that poetry occupies and speaks when I am quiet enough to hear.

I read earlier today and came across this poem by Archibald MacLeish. I am unfamiliar with the poet or poem, but the lines about poems being silent and wordless make sense. It is sometimes in the spaces between words that we find the greatest meaning. Here I find my soul. In those moments of silence, regardless their length I am present and attentive.

A poem should be palpable and mute

As a globed fruit;


As old medallion to the thumb;

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone

Of casement ledges where the moss has grown–

A poem should be wordless

As the flight of birds.

A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs;

Leaving, as the moon releases

Twig by twig the night-entangled trees–

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,

Memory by memory of the mind.

A poem should be motionless in time

As the moon climbs.

A poem should be to:

Not true.

For all the history of grief

An empty doorway and a maple leaf;

For love

The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea–

A poem should not mean;

But be.

Haiku: SWING

This is a follow up to yesterday’s re-blog and some reading of articles today. Play makes us better humans. Enjoy.


Tire Swing

old tire and a tree
shape a thousand hours into
memories of joy.

Inspired by the word prompt “SWING” at


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It don’t mean a thing

Although, LaDona writes about music this could apply to life generally. It is sort of like having some mojo or a spring in your step. The other thing is if we walk with a little swing people might wonder what music we are listening to in our heads.

Astonishing Light

Some days we feel like we are upside down and things are not going well. Being optimistic is a way of getting through that moment. We have our light to shine.

Russ Towne's A Grateful Man


“I wish I could show you, when you are alone or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” -Haviz (Source: Let’s Be Positive Together)

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I struggled for a few days with the overwhelming job, or so it seemed, of beginning to craft a purpose statement for the dissertation topic. Thankfully, my advisor told me to read and read and read the classics in education and the not so classic. I immersed myself in John Dewey, who I have read before, Alfred North Whitehead, who I had not read, and Ivan Illich, who worked with Paulo Freire. I am going to re-read Freire.

Last night, I fell asleep thinking about these people and woke up still thinking about them. As I got mobile, it dawned on me what happened and I recalled Mary Oliver’s beautiful poem. I don’t hold answers. I hold questions. Their eloquence lead me into life daily and the answers are often in the things I take for granted. I posted a re-worked purpose statement, based on just letting things percolate and doing some free writing, and one of my colleagues commented back that it was making more sense. Be mindful scholar.

Every day

I see or I hear


that more or less

kills me

with delight

that leaves me

like a needle

in the haystack

of light.

It is what I was born for–

to look, to listen,

to lose myself

inside this soft world–

to instruct myself

over and over

in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking

about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful–

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

how can you help

but grow wise

with such teachings

as these–

the untrimmable light

of the world,

the ocean’s shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

Love Is A Magic Ray By Khalil Gibran

This is a beautiful way to begin any day.

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