Category Archives: Reflective Moments

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.

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.

Medicine Wheel

Medicine wheels are part of many First Nations’ cultures. They serve to connect people to the environment and reflect our interdependence with nature and each other. They signal the need for balance required in our lives and ground us with and in our world. I took the picture on Bowen Island and began to write the poem.

I feel welcomed–

At home,

I found my way–

Linked to the universe,

With each being

Inseparably bound–

I could not lose my way

A voice gently beckons,

“Cross the hearth.”

Bask in its warmth–

Refresh with its water–

Breathe its sweet air–

Let the earth ground–

Replenish here;

No magic–

Only magical.

The Panther

I had a great day today. The beauty of mindfulness is I am learning that good and not so good pass and flow into another moment. I waited more than 1/2 of my life, I hope, to learn this lesson. The day was long, but sharing tea and conversation at the end completed it so fully.

Today, as I reflected on yesterday’s ‘trials’ I recalled Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem, The Panther. I felt like that yesterday. When I let go, I felt so much better; I no longer pacing behind bars.

From seeing the bars, his seeing is so exhausted

that it no longer holds anything anymore.

To him the world is bars, a hundred thousand

bars, and behind the bars, nothing.

The lithe swinging of that rhythmical easy stride

which circles down to the tiniest hub

is like a dance of energy around a point

in which a great will stands stunned and numb.

Only at times the curtains of the pupil rise

without a second … then a shape enters,

slips through the tightened silence of the shoulders,

reaches the heart, and dies.

My Status Quo

Is it a full moon tonight? The classroom and beyond was full of energy and it was not always healthy. I was a little frustrated and visibly annoyed part way through the afternoon. I taught one more year and wanted to teach these students so it hurts when they are disrespectful. On the way home I realized I need to set the pace. My ability to influence is my ability to shake up my status quo and walk into the fire so to speak. I chose to have a dog in this fight so what am I going to do. Even weeds of a tough day have purpose. They fertilize and increase the yield of a crop: children’s learning. This is not lost on me.

transformation–

my status quo defenseless;

an ongoing quest

seek a vision

unearth the true self

one digs deep

rest in sureness of the heart.

transform–

polish the gems of self

right speech! right action!

be confident

challenge my status quo,

influence others seriously

your time has arrived.

A Stranger’s Voice

When Monday rolls around and I spent Sunday disconnected, I find things quite loud and hectic. I even find my voice loud and my mind hurried and harried, but I do find I am increasingly able to recognize this is the case in that moment.

I heard a voice–

At once, both

Familiar yet unfamiliar.

This voice–

Somehow too loud

Intruded upon the day.

Tried to lean in

Attempted to recognize

Where had I heard this stranger?

Suddenly,

Without warning

I recognized it!

It was mine–

Out of place

After a spacious silence.

How do I listen?

I commented on a re-blog, Here’s an Idea that Mimi‘s post coincided a PBS show about a branch of neuroscience called Contemplative Mindfulness. Rudolph Tanzi is central in this work which has grown from other recent research by Richard Davidson, Ellen Langer, and Jon Kabat-Zinn. Mindful practices have been with us for centuries and are found in Christ’s, the Buddha’s and Mohammed’s teachings. Mindful listening begins with me, moves outward, and is eloquently described by Hafiz, a Sufi poet. Mindful listening requires humility those teachers emulated in their lived practice as the servant as leader.

How

Do I

Listen to others?

As if everyone were my Master

Speaking to me

His

Cherished

Last

Words.

Stay human friends.

A Place; A Space

Recently, I began to consider the word organization and its meaning. We use it as a noun for the places where we work, learn, and play. Its root, organ, suggests life and interaction. Without all parts working together in some cohesive way, it disintegrates. As well, an organ, as a musical instrument, needs a human touch. Humans organize, work, learn, and achieve through a common purpose. When we fail, it is the humanity around us that helps us back to our feet.

This place–

This space–

Welcomes–

Beckons.

Cold, aloof–

Some frigid lover.

Not frantically clinging–

An anxious lover

Here one moment; gone the next

A capricious lover

No! Fully alive–

Not on life support!

Exudes a hearty warmth–

Healthy, vibrant.

It is the human touch;

A lover’s gentle embrace–

Arms hold close;

Not too tight

An invitation.

A place–

A space–

I want to be.

A place–

A space–

That calls me–

Gives me voice

Something in common.

Grace

Although I am not American, I think this poem’s theme is universal. A colleague shared this lovely poem that speaks eloquently about today wherever we live. The poet is Rafael Jesus Gonzalez.

Thanks & blessings be
to the Sun & the Earth
for this bread & this wine,
this fruit, this meat, this salt,
this food;
thanks be & blessing to them
who prepare it, who serve it;
thanks & blessings to them
who share it
(& also the absent & the dead).
Thanks & Blessing to them who bring it
(may they not want),
to them who plant & tend it,
harvest & gather it
(may they not want);
thanks & blessing to them who work
& blessing to them who cannot;
may they not want – for their hunger
sours the wine & robs
the taste from the salt.
Thanks be for the sustenance & strength
for our dance & work of justice, of peace.