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Category Archives: teacher as transformer

The World Goes On

via The World Goes On

With his post, Eddie provided me with an opportunity to share and reflect on a Mary Oliver‘s poem Wild Geese.

The poem is about belonging to the larger family we each live within. It is also about being who we are and not fretting about what that might mean. Certainly, it is essential to living to reflect on who we are and who we are becoming, but we sometimes we let this become greater than the life we are living.

I think to experience the world and living most fully I need to be present and mindful of what I am experiencing and letting go in each moment. This is challenging, as the human mind scurries here and there, but, when I let go and am present, the riches are enriching and add to the becoming in ways I cannot predict and caculate in advance.

Moon Rise

I took this picture at Radium Hot Springs during an evening walk while on retreat there. I was surrounded by all the beauty nature has to offer in these moments.

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New Beginnings

via New Beginnings

Wildflower Women posted a lovely quote from Mary Oliver ushering in 2019.

We celebrate moments as if they are unique to a particular time. To be present and live in the world fully, perhaps each moment is a New Year flowing endlessly in the form of a river.

As I embrace the present moment, I kiss possibilities of what will be in the following moment without knowing this in advance.

Whitehead contended the present moment is holy ground where the past and future are always meeting and becoming whole. Holy, whole, and healing are linked etymologically.

Kathy took this photo as we travelled to BC just over a year ago.

The Wisdom of the Universe in a Blade of Grass

via The Wisdom of the Universe in a Blade of Grass

Strawberry Indigo posted a wonderful piece that included some of my favourite writers: Walt Whitman, Mary Oliver, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Rabindranath Tagore each writing about a blade of grass and its wisdom.

It reminded me of the passage from Matthew 6:26 about lilies of the field, which exist for the sole purpose of their existence: “consider the lilies of the field, how they grow.They don’t toil, neither do they spin.” Other writers have made reference to lilies of the field. For example, Edith Wharton critiqued the rich and famous for their idle ways.

To be is to live fully and experience in living. It is to be present, living in the moment and mindful of the world as we experience it.

Daffodils, Lake, and Mountain in Glacier

Kathy took this picture of flowers, grass, trees, a lake, and mountains in Glacier National Park. Each of them just exists to be in the world, filling a particular role. One role is to make the world a better and beautiful place.

Feel a River

via Feel a River

Eddie shares a quote from Rumi. It reminded joy flows like a river through life. It takes on meaning in ways I cannot anticipate.

Fraser River Near Headwaters

I took this picture of Kathy and the Fraser River in East Central British Columbia. Around the bend is a waterfall one can hear, but not see from this vantage. The river flows.

 

Merry Christmas

I have been lax with my blogging, particularly the writing part. I plan on being more with it in the New Year.

I posted this post several years ago. It speaks to what I feel about Christmas and what I feel we have lost as it has become more commodified each year.

I recall cold winter nights, almost minus 40 at night. My bedroom window was almost completely frosted over. On moonlit nights, the light kept me awake or that is what I told others.

To give you a sense of how sound travels in the cold, when we are at the farm during the winter, I hear the train (about a mile away) and it sounds like it is coming through the house.

Growing up in Northern Alberta, the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) and Christmas were a big part of growing up and it was not just their light show. I heard and saw them, dancing and crackling in the night sky. I thought the sky talked to me.

During Advent, my mom and older brothers walked across the street for evening Mass. The younger ones, including me, went to bed. I did not fall asleep right away and watched out the window. I thought no one saw me, but my Mom would come up and tell me to go to bed.

Small children–

Breathlessly awaiting,

Peering through frosted window

Soaking it in.

Heavens rippling–

Lights undulating;

A celebratory fury

An indisputable guide.

This old house speaks;

Nature answers–

Heavens crackle

Sweet symphonic sounds shimmering.

Earth’s floor–

Blanketed in white

Celestial colours speaking

Capturing young senses.

A vivid winter scene,

A sensual, sensory palette,

Reminding us–

Christ’s Mass is here.

pic_wonder_northern_lights_lg

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.

100_4784

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.

 

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