I am taking a class on personal ethics and a central theme is the role happiness plays, if at all, in ethics. I don’t think writing a haiku is important for a strict moral perspective, but I feel good when I do.
writing a haiku
words select me carefully
a written picture.
poetry written
a feeling of happiness
emerging gently.
I am reading Wayne Muller‘s Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest. He shared the following: “The word humility, like the word human, comes from humus, or earth. We are most human when we do no great things. … We are simply dust and spirit–at best loving midwives, participants in a process much larger than we. … We are granted the tremendous blessing of knowing that we do very little at all by ourselves” (p. 176).
He closed that chapter with a short, tongue-in-cheek poem by Robert Aitken Roshi who examined more closely humility and the role of soil in the human condition:
When people praise me for something
I vow with all being
to return to my vegetable garden
and give credit where credit is due.
One of my students took these pictures and allowed me the privilege of posting them along with a Haiku. She is using her new phone and this butterfly felt drawn to her finger and hand.
Rest on my finger
Unifying quietly
The peaceful soul rests.
stop on the way home
butterfly rests on human
pause on the journey.
Some days, when I sit to write, I find it hard to start and this poem by Mary Oliver came to me this morning.
I want to write something
so simply
about love
or about pain
that even
as you are reading
you feel it
and as you read
you keep feeling it
and though it be my story
it will be common,
though it be singular
it will be known to you
so that by the end
you will think–
no, you will realize–
that it was all the while
yourself arranging the words,
that it was all the time
words that you yourself,
out of your own heart
had been saying.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts through comments and making my words more than just my words.
Kathy and I stopped as we passed through Brocket Alberta which is between Fort Macleod and Pincher Creek on the way to Spokane. I took these pictures with the camera on my PDA. Brocket is the home to the Pikani First Nation or the Peigan Nation.
Mountains,sky, clouds
A backdrop
Winged machines
March across the prairie
Product of human hand
Point us towards
A river
Seemingly without pattern, yet poetic
Finding its way, as planned
By unseen hands
Of A Creator.
We are traveling to Spokane this weekend so I can continue the doctoral journey. We go through Fernie British Columbia which is a small town in the mountains.
These were not my best pictures, but they resonated with me on another level.
Touch the evening sky
Two shades of grey become one
Slowly day joins night.
the last gold flecks dance
bidding farewell to daylight
night gently arrives.
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
To be present and aware in the world is a rare gift. Here is a gift from William Stafford.
Enjoy.
I occasionally forget what got me where I am today. I follow a blog called Slappshot and its author poses questions. Recently, he asked, “What’s your line of work and if you could choose another career…what would it be?”
I responded, “I would not want to change anything, but, if I could keep everything else in tact, I want to be a professional hockey player.” You see what I have is very good. Yes, I struggle with things each day, but around me there are people who care and this poem is for them. I am learning to focus on the positive in life instead of the negative.
Each morning
Awaken
Tentatively step forward
Discover voice
Discover meaning
That which nourishes, waters, and heals the soul
With those who stand with you
For you
By you
Share the journey
Break bread
Mutual, Reciprocal, Companionship
A refuge in each other
Speak mindfully, heartfully, graciously
Hear mindfully, heartfully, graciously
Your self and the other present.
I found these picture of a small lake in the Crowsnest Pass when I was looking at the pictures I posted at A Time to Listen. Nature is a spectacular and paradoxical part of creation and I hope this is revealed in the following.
Green, aqua, granite
Nature draws from her palette
Drawing me to her.
Water cascading
Suddenly appears out of rock
Disappears again.
Calmness and chaos
Nature speaks in paradox
Harmony emerges.
ivonprefontaine
Teacher as Transformer 