This is a beautiful graphic and poem to begin the day. We each need to see and be the wholeness we can be.
Miracle Generator
I am back online. It was a busy few weeks with a trip home and back to Spokane for the American Thanksgiving weekend as well as finishing my course work. I am home for Christmas and am into the next phase of work: my proposal seminar. This seemed like an appropriate entry point. Some days, it is easy to overlook the small things which are real miracles in and of themselves. The continued traffic to my website and the support of family and friends are part of that.
Vulnerability
This is a beautiful quote. I need to remember it takes a risk to move forward and this makes me vulnerable. It is in those spaces I find the creative pieces of my life and the relationships that make life most fulfilling.
Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” ~ Brené Brown, Daring Greatly
Ponder This
I will be a less active the next few days as I wind up some projects. I will post, but need to finish things for the end of the week so I need to balance my commitments as Sartre wisely advised.
What are you totally committed to? What evidence do you have to demonstrate this commitment?
Start taking action towards the things you feel genuinely committed to. Make the choice to step into your power by putting your thoughts into action today.
Ambition In The City
I Think Continually of Those Who Were Truly Great
It is the end of a long and busy day. I chose this poem as it explored the need to remember who we are and what we belong to, that which went before us. Stephen Spender suggested it is remembering soul’s history and listen for it in the world.
I think continually of those who were truly great.
Who, from the womb, remembered the soul’s history
Through corridors of light where the hours are suns
Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition
Was that their lips, still touched with fire,
Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song.
And those who hoarded from the Spring branches
The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is never to forget
The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs
Breaking through rocks in the worlds before our earth.
Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light
Nor its grave evening demand for love.
Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother
With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields
See how these names are listed by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s center.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun,
And left the vivid air signified with their honor.
Today’s Quote
This is a beautiful way to come out of Sabbath. Did I live fully? Did I love well? These seem like simple questions, but my guess is they would keep me busy reflecting.
Parable
As I check out for Sabbath, I came across this playful poem by Richard Wilbur. Some days, it is nice to allow the horse to find the way home. It would our personal quixotic and random journey on that given day.
I found this poem n a book about reading and writing poetry called Rules for the Dance by Mary Oliver. The great poets have an eye for great poetry. Life is a dance that brings its own rules.
I read how Quixote in his random ride
Came to a crossing once, and lest he lose
The purity of chance, would not decide
Whither to fare, but wished his horse to choose.
For glory lay wherever he might turn.
His head was light with pride, his horse’s shoes
Were heavy, and he headed for the barn.
My November Guest
Winter approaches. Today, was a dreary day and the trees are becoming littered on the ground as their leaves fall. Yet, as Robert Frost pointed out, there is something lovely in the barrenness of November days. This reminds me that, as fall turns to winter, of a need for the seasonal shifts that bring new life into the world. It is part of the healing process nature provides.
My Sorrow, when she’s there with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay,
She talks and I am fain to list;
She’s glad the birds have gone way.
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday, I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
measure your life in love
Humberto Maturana proposed “love is the only emotion that expands intelligence.” Live a life of love and know that is its own reward.
Velvet Verbosity: Bend of the River
We stand beside many rivers, literally and metaphorically, without hearing them. when we take a moment and pause, we hear the world speak to us, perhaps even the cosmos when we listen even deeper.
Teacher as Transformer 