Kathy and I made it to Phoenix, but it was quite a day. The flight was delayed for four hours due to mechanical problems. Considering the alternative, I am grateful, but it made for an incredibly long day including a time change. I leave you with a short, poignant John O’Donohue poem which echoes Life is a River.
Tag Archives: creativity
Fluent
Life is a River
Kathy and I head to Phoenix tomorrow. The contrast in weather is sharp. It is -60 C with lots of snow here and +280 C in Phoenix, but apparently they are ‘suffering’ through a heat wave. I considered a poem about a phoenix rising from ashes, but opted for one that percolated for a while.
I began to think about this topic as we wrote life metaphors. There is no shortage of ways of seeing life, but a constant theme, for me, is a journey. I voyage into the unknown, but I still see what slowly disappears around river bends or as the river drops. There is no preset map, but it is the letting go of certainty that I welcome.
A journey from headwaters
Self-discovery;
Always seek the hidden
Evident truths.
Turbulent rapids
Still waters;
A visible contrast
An invisible path.
Fight the currents
Chaos gives way;
Languish in mysterious pools–
Life`s depth revealed.
New, unknown shorelines–
Welcome them;
Familiar sights fade, yet remain;
Both are navigational instruments.
Safe passage
Without false certainty;
Sets life`s course–
The course of a life well-lived.
The Grasp of Your Hand
I injured my hand years ago playing hockey and later a dog bit it badly causing even more damage. It is badly bent and scarred. We walked as a family weekend mornings when our sons boys were young. One son would check my hands and quickly change sides if he had not chosen the ‘gnarled one.’
What made him choose that one? One person suggested it was to touch the hand in a way that offered a healing touch. We each need this whether it comes from those close to us or from a divine source. We need the comfort of being cared for in ways that heal.
Rabindranath Tagore wrote this beautiful poem which described the need for the intimate touch of loved ones when we stumble which I do on life’s journey. I am not alone on this journey.
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but
for the heart to conquer it.
Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved,
but hope for the patience to win my freedom.
Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling
Your mercy in my success alone; but let me find
the grasp of Your hand in my failure.
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.
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.
Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
I am often challenged to see life’s challenges as ways to grow; to turn the bitter into wine. It has become easier with age, maturity, and perhaps wisdom. It is easier to embrace change as inevitable and life is a transient journey I am on. Nothing remains constant and static. It becomes easier to reclaim my voice with an attitude of resilience. I stand in ways that allow me to move back and forth into the pain and breathe. Rilke spoke of this so well in this wonderful poem.
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell.
As you ring, what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.
Of Mere Being
Wallace Stevens wrote this beautiful reminder that we each have work to do. I recall something Jon Kabat-Zinn said: “Find a Job with a capital J. Stop doing someone else’s work. Find work that makes you complete.” I paraphrase here. It is easier to be fully present as fulfilled persons.
Thomas Merton and Parker Palmer wrote about the common roots of voice and vocation. I find meaning and completion in the work I do. Somehow, I make the world a better place. As I find my voice, my being made whole and any holes in that being filled. I understand the meaning of my life’s song with perhaps no clear meaning to anyone else.
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze distance.
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
The Donkey
I was not sure I would post tonight, but as I read comments left on don’t worry, be happy I came across one from Valerie. Valerie suggested a poem by G. K. Chesterton. We regard the donkey as a beast of burden, but it serves a literal and figurative purpose in the Christian world and perhaps beyond.
Literally, the donkey, that simple beast of burden, carried Jesus into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. This simple animal symbolically in the Middle East of Jesus’ time was an animal of peace. Today, figuratively we recall Jesus used this beast of burden as his mode of transport elevating it.
Why I Wake Early
Mary Oliver wrote this poem about being an early riser and what it can mean. I used to fight the alarm clock, turn over several times, and hit the snooze button. With age, I realized that 5:00 or 5:30 AM was the time my body wanted my mind to join it and begin the day. I eat breakfast quietly, go for a cup of tea, and reflect. I do all of this in solitude. Even the busiest Starbucks at 6:00 AM, is quiet. I find many of the things that make the day worth facing in that quiet and solitude. I find creative space there.
Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety –
best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning.
Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.
You Reading This, Be Ready
Recently, I attended a presentation and the person commented, “The only now we have is this one right here.” I began to use this with students. In the busyness of life, what do I want to remember? If I am present, right here, now, I can see the extraordinary aspects of the world I live in the now. I bring my mind into the room and it joins the shell, my body. William Stafford shared this Zen-like view of the world in this poem.
Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life –
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?




