The Right Moment Arrived

We were hit by a somewhat unexpected winter storm today. The forecasters predicted it for parts of northern Alberta, but it slumped towards Edmonton. Driving was slow, but I took my time and arrived on time, just when I was supposed to arrive. Sometimes in the fog or blizzard of life’s busyness, I lose my way. We are into report cards and we have the latest system designed just for us. I was not very happy yesterday and was letting stress get to me. Today, I took a message from nature and slowed down and it got done.

It arrived–

A winter storm

Unexpected,

I felt unsure

Slow down.

Grasping frantically,

Busyness overtakes

I let go

I arrive on time

In the very moment that just arrived.

We are not alone, but the ones on the margins are the most visible. The ones in the middle are hidden from our view.

hovercraftdoggy's avatarhovercraftdoggy

King Penguins, photograph by AP Photo(Robert E. Klein

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Self Discovery

Father Richard Rohr wrote an excellent meditation this morning. He wrote about discovering the self and all day his words came back into my quiet moments. I am tired, but I feel more awake now, because there is something exciting in being lost.

Discover self–

Imperfect, unrefined;

Genuine, real–

Not hidden;

Unvarnished, vulnerable.

Happiness appears;

Refuge

Falsehoods recede–

Ever so slowly,

Spirit wakens–

Revitalized and awake.

Although I think there are limits to what is acceptable literature, I believe we need to include the great books that pass the test of time and enhance learning, curiosity, and human growth at appropriate ages. This post struck me as important to our conversation about these big topics.

John Spencer's avatarCooperative Catalyst

I don’t know why I had to read Scarlet Letter, but I know that the themes of hypocrisy, sin, redemption and religion imposing on individual will should have resonated with me. My guess is that I hated it, because it was assigned. It’s why I loved Brave New World, The Great Gatsby, Catcher in the Rye and The Color Purple. None of them were assigned. None of them required a book report.

So, a former student bitches about Beowulf. Pardon the language, but that phrase just sounded fun, so I kept it. Anyway, he’s all upset about how irrelevant it is to his life. He mentions slaying dragons and dying a hero’s death and says that none of it makes sense to his world.

My first response is this:

Thoughts on Beowulf: Because if you haven’t do so yet, you will someday have the chance to slay dragons and in…

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Teaching on the Margins

Last week, I wrote Mojo Gathers Momentum. A gift of my journey to Bainbridge was the realization I had lost the belief I was a good teacher. I have never believed this was my place to speak to that. There is a certain humility a teacher should have and extends beyond patting myself on the back. What I do know and recognize is I am different teacher. I have modeled my approach after teachers I believed operated on the margins and accepted that is their place. It was a place that they could do more good for students and the communities we live in.

false security

when hidden

yet, fully surrounded–

paradox of my humanness.

stand out

reveal blemishes

make them obvious

revel in them.

great teachers

found comfort on the margins

not hidden in the crowd

stepped out with pride.

humanness lived;

so fully

it reveals imperfections

for I am human, after all.

Brought some wonderful memories back of walking in Jasper and Waterton this past summer with the mountain lakes reflecting the sky, mountains, and trees. We need mirrors in our lives.

Tiny's avatarTINY LESSONS BLOG

Heaven and earth joined seamlessly

in the quest to calm your mind

gently sustain your soul

provide you with peace

and still you to quietly reflect

on the grandeur of creation.

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Beyond Questions

I close my week with this wonderful poem by May Sarton. As I reflect on the week passed, I hope I am left with more questions than answers and the time to luxuriate in the space between the question and answer. I noticed today and yesterday, when I pause and let go, my monkey mind chatter is greatly reduced. It has been helpful.

The phoebe sits on her nest

Hour after hour,

Day after day,

Waiting for life to burst out

From under her warmth.

Can I wave a nest for silence,

Weave it out of listening,

Listening,

Layer upon layer?

But one must first become small,

Nothing but a presence

Attentive as a nesting bird,

Proffering no slightest wish

Toward anything that might happen

Or be given,

Only the warmth, faithful waiting,

Contained in one’s smallness.

Beyond the question, the silence.

Before the answer, the silence.

This is a wonderful poem and image to begin the day.

A Space for All Stories

It was a long week and I am not sure, in my tiredness, where this poem came from, but it appeared on the horizon. I thought I would try to let it write itself.

Listen–

Stories seek space

A space where they come to life

A space to speak their words.

Listen deeply–

Some stories

Of those oppressed

Remain unheard.

Listen with your heart–

Lean into those words,

Give those voices life

Join them with yours.

Each day we set out, interact with our environment and its inhabitants, and write a story in some medium. We create and author our life’s story in this fashion.