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Category Archives: Poetry

Trusting Love

via Trusting Love

This is a wonderful post about love Charmed Chaos

Love is what makes us human, brings us together, and allows each of us to grow. For humans, love is part of who we are and is instinctual. It does not have to be taught, unlike hate and war.

I used an activity, Culture of Peace, and had students describe the difference between a culture of hate and one of peace. We filled whiteboards describing a Culture of Peace and the conversation ended quickly about one of hate. It affirmed my faith in children and the role of love in their lives.

Paulo Coehlo asks and answers how love comes to be in our lives.

How does light enter a house? If the windows are open. How does light enter a human? If the door of love is open.

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#EchoesFromPastEra . . .I seek strength,…

via #EchoesFromPastEra . . .I seek strength,…

This is a beautiful Indigenous passage shared by Purple Rays. I have been thinking of deep ecology more the last few days and this poem reminded me of how I am not separate from the universe and others who share it with me.

Even in an urban setting, nature is immediate and surrounds me, providing context for my life. As I walk, I listen to birds, see squirrels, observe flora, and, sometimes, walk in the rain, as I did this morning.

How I live in nature and in relationship with others I can cleanse my hands and spirit, finding strenght and preparing for the next step in my journey.

I took this picture walking in the river valley, which divides Edmonton. The terns are always there during the spring, summer, and fall. When I walk on the path that is surrounded by trees, at this time of the year I smell how nature renews itself as trees shed their leaves and they are absorbed into the natural cycle.

Gulls at Neurotsis Inlet

Be The Tree #poem

via Be The Tree #poem

I tried to reblog this wonderful poem by Didi, but, for the second time in the past week, I was unable to do so. Instead, I will press it as my sharing for today.

This wonderful poem reminded me of Matthew’s verse (6:28) about lilies of the field growing for the sake of being and making the world a better place without doing so consciously.

The line that stood out for me was life is “not a competetion, a judgement, or a race.” At times. my life and who I am calls me to just be and not plan, worry, and overthink what that means. It means to live meditatively and be in the present moment, mindful and attentive to the world.

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Kathy took this picture while driving through Glacier National Park. The trees add depth, contrast, and boundaries. Taken-for-granted are the trees, which are the boundary between the road and valley in the forefront.

Gallery Hop – I, Too, Sing America: The Harlem Renaissance at 100 Mural Series

via Gallery Hop – I, Too, Sing America: The Harlem Renaissance at 100 Mural Series

This post is a bit longer than ones I usually press, but it brought back memories of teaching.

I taught Language Arts and, as a result, poetry. I was drawn to Langston Hughes who was critical in the Harlem Renaissance, although he was not originally from New York. He was from Joplin, Missouri, found his way to Harlem, and added a wonderful voice through poetry to the Renaissance.

One of the murals in the post is of Richard Pryor who would have begun his career in the latter stages of Langston Hughes’ life. I did not think of it that way until today as I looked at the post and realized there was an overlap in their careers.

Like Hughes, Pryor was not born in New York, but moved there from Illinois. I watched Pryor on the Ed Sullivan Show in the late 1960’s, enjoying his humour and social critique.

I leave you with a Langston Hughes poem: Dreams. I shared this one with my students each year, reminding them to have dreams and chase those dreams.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

 

A Simpler Life

Kathy and I are doing some house cleaning and it is interesting what we find.

Kathy looked through some papers we had stored and found poetry I wrote in 1969, in Grade 10. There are things that are consistent in life and one of them is seeking moments of solitude and silence, which I wrote about in this poem. I took liberties and edited the poem, orginally called The Simple Life.

It is good to be alone at times,

Sheltered by comforting trees,

The wind singing a song,

Here, I experience freedom and peace,

For the moment, worries set aside.

Minnows dart at the water’s edge,

Dancing between light and shadows,

Seemingly, without a care,

There, they experience home’s safety;

Its primal call.

Here, this is me,

I experience a simpler life;

An unseen hand beckons me,

I wave to this simpler life,

Enjoying it each time I return.

I took this picture in Waterton Lake National Park several years ago. I came around a corner and there was a doe and two fawn. I could have touched the one fawn it was so close, but it was separated from its mother. I stood as still as possible, moving slowly to get the camera ready. The mother whistled to the one fawn and waited until the young one found its way over to her, back to the safety of where it belonged.

this…is who we are

via this…is who we are

I read this post the other day on the blog Lead Our lives. It resonated with me.

When I see myself as somehow separate and distinct from the universe that envelops me, I mistake my place in the universe as that of an outsider, a visitor, and spectator.

When I think of myself in that way, I allow myself to believe and shape a universe I can somehow master. This is unrealistic and sets me up for failure.

Alan Watts and Parker Palmer write about faith and fidelity as opposed to belief. When I have faith and trust in what is to come, I set aside the idea that life is plannable. Yes, I need plans, but they are in flux, open to improvisation in each ensuing moment. When I form a rigid set of beliefs, I end up in a binary and polarizing place, where only my answers are right and certain. When I am follow with faith and fidelity, I seek answers in the diversity and flux of the universe.

In the post, there is a reference to Father Richard Rohr who used the quote from Rabbi Rami Shapiro in one of his daily meditations, which I also receive. Whatever I call God, it is intriguing how much diversity and beauty in that name.

Mount Robson is a place I drive by frequently on trips to and from British Columbia. It is magnificent and is a symbol of uncertainty. As often as I drive by it, I cannot know it completely. It stands as a deep mystery. Having said this, I have faith each time I drive in this direction it will be there. Its majesty is grounded in both mystery and certainty that come together.

Robson

Wednesday – native prayer

via Wednesday – native prayer

Dymoon shared a beautiful indigenous prayer attributed to Chief Dan George (born Geswanouth Slahoot) who was an actor, author, and activist. He did not become an actor until he was 60 and worked as a longshoreman, logger, and musician, as well as being chief of the Tsleil-Waututh Nation in British Columbia.

The prayer reminds me that nature is a place to be. We are not separate from it, but live in nature’s midst. Nature’s gifts, including silence, are a rich bounty we cannot live without.Gulls at Neurotsis Inlet

I took this picture several years ago walking along the North Saskatchewan River, which runs through Edmonton. Nature is always with me.

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