Don’t Quit

Edgar A. Guest wrote this poem that seems apt now. I watch the students struggle each day with the end of the year coming. For a number they will transition into new schools and those that stay behind much change is around the corner. They seem apprehensive. I remind them daily that they will be able to stay in touch. Technology makes this world so different. We can pick up a phone or send a message via email, Facebook, or text. It would be easy to quit on the relationships they have built up over the year because they might not see each other daily.

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
when the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
when the funds are low and the debts are high,
and you want to smile but you have to sigh,
when care is pressing you down a bit – rest if you must,
but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns.
As everyone of us sometimes learns.
And many a fellow turns about when he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow – you may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than it seems to a faint and faltering man;
often the struggler has given up when he might have captured the victor’s cup;
and he learned too late when the night came down,
how close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out – the silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
and when you never can tell how close you are,
it may be near when it seems afar;
so stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit – it’s when things seem worst,
you must not quit.

Who I Am

Anytime I come across a Parker Palmer quote it is a great way to begin the day. Parker suggested we spend too much time wondering what we are, why we do certain things, and how we do those things. Those are all important questions, but ‘who I am’ should lead them. Who is the person that leads this life? It takes time and quiet to sit and visit with that person.

Laura Flett's avatarIt Started with a Quote

Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am.  Parker Palmer

I have been listening…trying one idea after another.

Yes you have.

But other people seem so certain about themselves.

Haven’t you felt that way before?

Yeah, then life steps in and mixes things up, leaving me with doubts and a shaky foundation. Then I wonder if I’m really who I think or say I am.

Who are you today?

A bunch of questions and ideas. Listen…I have this idea…I could write the Palmer quote in a little notebook and go about my day. A gardening seminar, lunch with a friend, some reading, a trip to the grocery store…and those words would be right there, like a foundation for the day. Pretty much what I do with this blog. But then tonight before I go to bed I’d do a timed writing…

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On The Rise

One of those pictures that captures the imagination and is perfectly complemented by the Bob Marley lines underneath. It is a new day. Enjoy as you rise.

Happiness

Jane Kenyon wrote this thoughtful poem about happiness. It is the flip side of a country song that suggests we look for love in all the wrong places. Happiness is right there in front of us. We see it and struggle to recognize it. Perhaps, it is just too obvious for us to see it and grasp it. There is just no accounting for happiness, because it just shows up and finds us.

There’s just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.

It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.

Whose Life Is This

This is an interesting way of seeing the world and reminds me of a Jon Kabat-Zinn quote: “Find a Job with a capital J. Stop doing someone else’s work.” We need to find our passion in life and, when we do, blend it with compassion.

Paul Mark Sutherland's avatarGYA today

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The Holstee Manifesto

You can read the story of the Holstee Manifesto HEREWe thank them for their vision, commitment, and inspiration.

Enjoy …and give something today!

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Sanctuary

I am beginning to feel the leaving part. It is hard after almost 15 years in a place that helped me find my voice as a teacher, a learner, and, most importantly, as a person. Here, I watched young people grow and flourish. What I want to try to remember is the Buddhist understanding of departure. We take something with us from each experience and leave something behind. We are never fully gone from where we were or separated from those we were with. There is something indelible left on both sides of the relationship.

One thing that the leaving part has done is given me some words to write. That has been the gift of the last year: I find words in many places and experiences.

A true paradox this space-

Not always quiet–

Still a sanctuary;

In this space–

Refuge emerged.

We co-created

Learned together–

Grew as one,

Remained individuals

Not easy things to do.

Relationships flourished–

Built inseparable bonds.

In this rectangular circle,

Welcomed each others presence

Witnessed each others human essence

Called each others name

Called those names from the heart.

When we leave–

And, we must,

We look at our time together

Look back with reverence

With no regret.

It’s better …

Yesterday, I commented we were beginning to bring good-byes forward. There are students leaving and beginning a new part of their journey. Tears were beginning to show up as these young adults have built such healthy and positive relationships with each other. It is easier and more cleansing to let the tears flow than to be angry.

LAND OF FUN's avatarLAND OF FUN

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Now I Become Myself

We had a very good day. We are beginning to say good-bye. It has taken many years for me to reach this place. As May Sarton suggested, I ran madly many times seeming to think that busyness was the order of the day. Or I wore the faces of other people. I think these faces were often mine, but that they masked the real me. It was hard to let the guard down and be my self at times. It is easier and easier and I can stand still right here in this moment and now in this moment. Ah, what a feeling.

Now I become myself. It’s taken

Time, many years and places;

I have been dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people’s faces,

Run madly, as if Time were there,

Terribly old, crying a warning,

“Hurry, you will be dead before—”

(What? Before you reach the morning?

Or the end of the poem is clear?

Or love safe in the walled city?)

Now to stand still, to be here,

Feel my own weight and density!

The black shadow on the paper

Is my hand; the shadow of a word

As thought shapes the shaper

Falls heavy on the page, is heard.

All fuses now, falls into place

From wish to action, word to silence,

My work, my love, my time, my face

Gathered into one intense

Gesture of growing like a plant.

As slowly as the ripening fruit

Fertile, detached, and always spent,

Falls but does not exhaust the root,

So all the poem is, can give,

Grows in me to become the song,

Made so and rooted by love.

Now there is time and Time is young.

O, in this single hour I live

All of myself and do not move.

I, the pursued, who madly ran,

Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

clouds are free

The other day compassion was free. Today, we have free clouds. Do I ever stop and wonder what is free in my life that I take for granted?

dear occupant's avatarwho could know then

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thCAVN1YTK

and there are days after days when
this gritty world holds so liitle appeal
…to be anyplace, but where i stand

in submerged pain when this history
so swift a snare, in its bear claw trap
jailed in recall…in tragic rerun memory

i tire of these arms, these familiar legs
so weary of this face i already know
and a name, i never asked to own

where do i find this release
where is that, wipe my slate clean
and this shapeless anonymity i need?

it’s weightless that i want to be
to catch a current…to float without fear
follow any breeze because clouds are free

…these clouds i crave

……to be in them

……….to be through them

……………to be of them

to be recognized one minute
and so simply gone the next,
with neither pain nor regret

because it’s weightless, that i want to be
to…

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Petals

This is a soft, quiet poem to begin the day. The poet, Ronnie, has not been very active. This was one of the first blogs that followed mine and I followed this one. I always look forward to the poems.