It is incredible what I hear when I close my eyes and listen.
I closed my eyes and listened
To the hum of million sleeping minds
To the tiresome sonata of crickets and frogs
To the crack of the parting moon and sun
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The last line before Russ signed off says it all. We can be great, but not good. We can find our greatness in our goodness. Be good today for goodness sake.
My Beloved and I watched the new Oz movie a few days ago. I just flashed back to a scene in the movie where a man with many flaws who has wanted his whole life to be great and failed over and over again finally does something that is indeed great.
The woman he is with says something to him that is profound. It went something like this:
“Yes, you were great, but you were also something much better than that. You were good.”
The longer I live, the more I have come to understand the truth and wisdom in those words.
One can be great without being good, but there is greatness in goodness.
Love,
Russ
The Truly Great
Spring is near and should arrive in a few days. This March was reminiscent of last March with lots of snow. Last year, we had a tragedy as a young woman died in a car accident during the worst storm. She was an older sibling of former students and, although she was not a parent, she subbed for her mom as a classroom helper. I was apprehensive the first time, but it was an incredible and indelible experience. She made such an impact on the students and left me comfortable with the idea older siblings had much to offer.
Thich Nhat Hanh spoke about when people they leave their mark. When I pay attention, I can recognize this young lady’s greatness in our classroom. Stephen Spender wrote a lovely poem that reminds me of the greatness people leave. I pause and can how “these names fêted” by many of nature’s gifts. I smile having witnessed this greatness.
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 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 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 fêted 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 centre.
Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.
This is a beautiful poem. Silence is a time of letting go and just being. It is a good way to begin the week, the day, and end them, as well.
For Equilibrium, a Blessing:
Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity by lightened by grace.Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of god.”― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
John O’Donohue (1 January 1956 – 4 January 2008) was an Irish poet, author, priest, and Hegelian philosopher. He…
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The Opening of Eyes
I arrive at the end of another week. It was a quiet week in many ways. Next week includes parent-teacher interviews and will be more hectic. When I reflected, I thought of the Marcel Proust quote: “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” I need the quiet and the solitude which allows me to achieve one glimpse at a time.
I found my way to this David Whyte poem which proposed a similar message. The poet echoed Proust in the second stanza. As I open my eyes, my heart and mind open in astonishment as the wonder of silence finds a new world that was always there, a paradox.
That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
This poem and prayer is a great way to quietly begin the day. Take care and enjoy.
Haiku Sampling
I have not posted haiku for a while. We wrote haiku as our last activity of the poetry unit. Whenever we write poems, I roam the classroom with a marker in hand. There are four whiteboards in the room and I write randomly as thoughts come. It helps students on two levels. I write poetry and it is not just them being told to do it. As well, I offer exemplars, some good and some less so. Here is a haiku sampling.
Water seeks freedom
Released from lethargy
Water plunges, plummets.
Fry it in a pan
Friends for eggs and potatoes
Pig meat, oh soooo good!
Did I mention some were not great?
Fedora wearing
The coolest Rat Pack member
Sinatra maybe.
One student wears a fedora. I mentioned that it reminded me of the Rat Pack. He had no idea what that was or who Frank Sinatra was, but I told him it was cool to be compared to Frank Sinatra.
Well it is not this kind of day in Alberta. We are in the midst of a return of winter complete with cold and snow. But, it does not prevent me from closing my eyes and imagining this day as proposed by Billy Collins. I imagine being released from my snow-covered cottage.
TODAY
by BIlly Collins
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
Photo by CT1967, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:Billy Collins (born 1941) served as Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001-2003 and…
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My mother used to say, “If all your friends jumped off the High Level Bridge (insert your closest bridge with any drop), would you. Apparently, yes was not the right answer. We need to listen to the wisdom closest to us. As we grow up, it is from our elders, but eventually we become the elders. Then what?
Your Mom called. She just wanted to remind you:
Oh, and also, that ethics and honesty are REALLY important.
Enjoy!
original graphic credit: Classroom Posters
I pastori (The Shepherds)
I might have posted this lovely poem by Gabrielle D’Annunzio in September as I began school, but it speaks to me. Perhaps, I am better off to read it at other times than the beginning.
I recalled the poem, when I heard of the election of the Pope, Francis I. I thought it was a fitting name for the person who would be a shepherd. I hope he fulfills his Jesuit tradition of social justice and teaching.
When I heard the name he chose, it reminded of St. Francis of Assisi. Kathy and I used the Prayer of St. Francis as part of our wedding ceremony and hangs on our bedroom wall.
September, let’s go. It’s time to migrate.
Now in the land of Abruzzi my shepherds
leave the folds and go towards the sea:
they go down to the wild Adriatic
that is green like mountain pastures.
They’ve drunk deeply from the Alpine fonts,
so that the taste of their native water
may stay in their exiled hearts for comfort
to deceive their thirst along the way.
They’ve renewed their hazelnut sticks.
And they go along the ancient bridleway,
that is almost like a silent grassy river
in the traces of the ancient ancestors.
Oh voice of the one who first
discerns the shimmering of the sea!
Now along this coast moves the flock.
Without movement is the air.
The sun bleaches the living wool so that
it almost blends into the sand.
Swishing, stamping, sweet sounds.
Ah why am I not with my shepherds?
Teacher as Transformer 