Category Archives: Mindful Life

A Real Christmas Gift

I struggled to get the words together. I find I forget the message of this time of the year. Jesus was marginalized at birth, but I can imagine the regal presence and bearing of his parents. He was devoted to those in need. I think of Jesus as rebel as he helped the marginalized. He disagreed with political and religious leaders of the time and sought out those on the margins; those in the most need.

Along a dusty road–

A carpenter strode,

The expectant mother rode,

A donkey her only transport

Her regal carriage–

Back straight, head high

Refuge sought–

Turned away countless times.

Marginalized–

He arrived humbly

Born in a stable,

Cradled in a manger,

Welcomed by beasts,

Royal gifts showered upon us–

Without cost;

Priceless.

He only asks, “Can you open your heart?”

He returns each year–

Lights our way,

A source of strength,

Humbly receive gifts,

Restock spirits,

Replenish the soul.

Make Music with Your Life

Bob O’Meally wrote this poem. As I read it, it reminded me whatever I choose in life, it is  music. I am grateful for creative spaces as a learner and teacher. They provide music in my life.

I left the poem on the left margin to stress the way the poet formatted the poem.

Make music with your life
a
jagged
silver tune
cuts every deepday madness
Into jewels     that you wear
Carry 16 bars of old blues
wit/you
everywhere you go
walk thru azure sadness
howlin’
Like a guitar player

Lasting Change

I began writing this a couple of months ago. Each day, I feel increasingly certain lasting change begins and ends with me. I am unsure what that will mean, but am more able to hold the tension in the uncertainty that surrounds that certainty. This is the paradox of life.

I change–

Proceed patiently,

Wisely,

Prudently,

Trust new road signs

Set aside vanity,

Proceed without ego

One that demands others change

And the me remains unchanged.

Real change–

Change of substance–

Feels glacial,

Is worthwhile,

Invites me on the journey

Casts a new light

Softly, oh so gently

Shines outwards.

Be present in each moment.

What I seek finds me–

No search required;

Sit and await its arrival–

It will be on time

Cease the chase,

The hunt concludes–

Rest in this moment

Only its reality exists.

Unmanaged, Fully Lived

I find I want certainty, but it is impossible to orchestrate. Life is a series of complex, chaotic, messy events and relationships that defy the logic. Life is not unplanned. I need to be awake and attentive for moments outside my plans. What do I do then?

I engineer life,

Manufacture it

Driven–

Overstimulated–

Drown in options

To what end–

I ask.

Try and manage,

Plan,

Organize,

Pursue material wealth–

Seek false power

An ego massage

But no real choices.

One choice–

Live life,

Experience it fully;

Dig deep,

Find what animates

Sow seeds,

Be patient.

Tend barren ground–

Await the richness and bounty–

Trust what emerges

These are the real gifts–

Not easily found,

But always near at hand–

Unmanageable life

But fully liveable.

Lost

David Wagoner wrote this poem. It reminds me, as I enter Sabbath, there is a need to be still, to be quiet, and listen attentively. It is in the quiet I hear answers and sometimes those are new questions without the certainty of a ready answer I sought. Those answers sought are often formed before the question is posed.

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

Stranded

I was not sure I had a poem today. It is a bit hectic with parent-teacher interviews, but this morning I had an email waiting and saw a path. I am not sure about the title, but here goes.

The last few days I have watched a friend struggle with being involved in something she is very passionate about. As I watch, I see her struggling. Her contributions are simply expected and thus unappreciated. Often, I think, we feel this way and believe we are alone in our struggles. Me experience points to another truth. We need to look up and across, open our minds and hearts and discover there are others who we can lean on.

Stranded–

Alone on an iceberg

Look around;

Look up;

Open your eyes–

Recognize others with you

Share stories–

Pearls of wisdom

In those oyster shells–

Found in deepest waters.

Experiences fully lived–

Reflect on them

Open heroic hearts;

Extend welcoming arms;

Proffer capable hands;

Share construction–

Bridge open water,

Calm perilous seas–

You are not alone

Others await your company.

 

The Peace of Wild Things

I have parent-teacher interviews for the next two evenings. It limits the time available for posting my own words. I began thumbing through one of my many poetry anthologies and came across this wonderful Wendell Berry poem that echoed yesterday’s post, Children in ways. Two of his poems at the link are about mad farmers. Wendell Berry is a compassionate, opinionated person. When I grow up, I want to be similar.

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Children

I have thought about the role children play in the lives of adults. Our role as stewards reminds me of the Native American proverb: We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children. With responsible adult and community stewardship, this is possible. It takes a special effort, but it is its own reward.

Children–
Nature’s gift;
Craft and hone–
Appreciate their future;
Nurture and cherish–
Mature under our watchful gaze,
Cradled in loving community.
Elders shepherd;
Care and tend–
A most precious flock
Share wise words
Open hearts
Act prudently
Generous, ceaseless, joyful work.

Winter Nights

It is December 1 and Christmas is just around the corner. The last few days I recalled what it was like in rural northern Alberta at this time of the year. We used to sit upstairs and look out the window on cold, cold nights shimmering with white. What caught my eye and ear was the magic provided by the Northern Lights or Aurora Borealis. They don’t appear in Edmonton as I recall them from my childhood memories. What message was in those celestial colours and sounds?

Small children–

Breathlessly wait,

Peer through frosted window

Soak it in.

Heavens ripple–

Lights undulated;

A celebratory fury

An indisputable guide.

This old house speaks;

Nature answers–

Crackles from the heavens

Sweet symphonic sounds.

Earth’s floor–

Blanketed in white

Celestial colours shimmer

Captures young eyes.

A vivid winter scene,

A sensual, sensory palette,

Reminds me–

Christ’s Mass draws near.

pic_wonder_northern_lights_lg

The photo came from Seven Wonders of Canada.

Life’s Purpose

Professional development days at school leave me wanting so much more. It is a pretense of doing something, but is busyness personified. I am left tired, unsatisfied, and with a bit of headache. I just want a choice. What fuels my spirit?

Day’s end arrives,

Quiet seeks me out–

Busyness dissipates;

A frenetic pace abates–

No hurry,

No frantic pursuit of something;

Whatever that thing might be

Remains uncertain…

Unclear,

Lost in a mist

Focus a little off–

I remain unsatisfied

Until, I wonder aloud:

What is life’s purpose?

Or is life its own purpose.