Tag Archives: mindfulness

An Angry Young Poet

Each year, I spend time on poetry with the students. Two years ago, a student asked if I wrote poetry in junior high school and I was able to say, “Yes!”. He asked me to share with them. I found them in a small lock box I keep at home and shared several with the class.

I mentioned in Culture of Peace Sam Intrator. He suggested teachers expose adolescent students complex, existential questions of life as they move through those formative years. I wrote my poems in about 1969. It was a time when identity was increasingly rooted in the global nature of the world, not just immediate community and family. War, even in Canada, entered our homes via television. I found voice in poetry and expressed an abhorrence to institutional and government approved murder. What set me apart from my peers, was I took no sides. Each was equally wrong in my mind. Mr. McKenzie, an innovative English teacher, encouraged that in us-find our voices.

I shared the following poem with my students. I concede it is not exactly the original, as it was pretty angry. I hope the original message is still there. Students asked for more poems and I complied. These past few months I rediscovered my poet’s voice. It is a gentler voice, I hope.

Win or Lose: What Difference Does it Make?

 One game

If it is one

No fun to lose

No great thing to win.

War!

Hollow

Men, women, children gone

In no time

Woe! The vanquished losers;

No winner

Each, vanquished in every sense.

Divided

In ruins

Rebuilding

On countless graves

Rudderless.

Without pride

Beggaring citizens

Values of others

Resenting conquerors

What does war bring?

No jobs

No hospitals

No schools

No homes, but the streets

Destruction everywhere.

What does war bring?

Death of innocence

Loss even in victory

Comrades fallen

But see an enemy vanquished.

Killing

Proving nothing

What fools

Going on forever

Will we learn?

We must

I pray

For human survival.

Take care and have a great 20th of July, 2012.

I’m Tired, I’m Whipped by Nevin Compton Trammell

I spent a great day on Sunday. I read, had a major nap which caused me to struggle sleeping last night, and spent time with friends doing pizza. I was completely disconnected. It is in these moments I find my voice.

I’m tired

I’m whipped

too dumb to quit

too smart

to let life go by

I’m working hard

to find truth

in my own backyard

I’ve done everything

but die

Took the long way around

on a short ride to town

found a pass

where few have been

Gained a love

lost a friend

scraped my knees

learning to please

started out

with no choice

somewhere

somehow

found my

voice.

It is a journey; not a destination. Take care and have a great 17th of July.

In My Haste to Post I Forgot the Title

It was an interesting day. In the midst of it, Parker Palmer posted a poem by Wendell Berry on Facebook. It is a special day when Parker posts a poem by Wendell Berry, Mary Oliver, or himself. The poem was How to Be a Poet (to remind myself). Wendell Berry is low tech and uses a typewriter to craft his words. Parker pointed to an aspect of the poem’s message: “Shun electric wire/Communicate slowly/Live a three-dimensional life.”The slow of life is worth something. It lets us be the person we are most fully.

Later, I began to think about two songs by two artists I enjoy and have seen multiple times live. Guy Clark sings The Carpenter and John Wort Hannam sings With the Grain. Both songs are rich with the metaphors of living a three-dimensional life. It is no coincidence the topic is that of a carpenter in both cases. It is about true to one’s self and living a life with value.

Sabbath

Silence, solitude, sacred

A mountain’s strength

The sky’s expanse

A lake mirrors

Words of wisdom

Spoken so softly.

Disconnect to reconnect

Listen that silent sacred space

The inner teacher beckons

Be present

Wisdom revealed

Let it heal, repair

A single thread at a time

The web of life so fragile.

Questions emerge

Hold gently

Live their mystery

They answer only when ready

Until then they lie dormant

Ready when ready

Embrace life as it is.

I salute you and take my leave for a few hours. Have a wonderful 16th of July.

Seasons of Clouds

Kathy’s niece took these pictures of boomers the other night west of Edmonton. Kathy and I talked about what we saw in the clouds. There is a lot in there and yesterday, as I walked, I understood clouds meaning something different during different seasons of life.

The spring of childhood,

Clouds were homes

Where

My imagined friends

Came to life

Nursery rhymes, fairy tale, cartoons

People lived there.

A voice called: “Hurry home before it rains.”

Spring met summer

Romance arrived

A single rain drop touched us

We scrambled

Holding hands

We discovered shelter

In each other

And laughed: “Let it rain.”

The dog days of summer arrived

I looked up

Storm clouds overhead

Ominous

Please, I need to finish the lawn

Or there goes the BBQ tonight

I hear my voice: “Hurry home before it rains; so much to do.”

In autumn

A safe distance

We view

But, don’t hurry

Clouds

Real places in our imagination

Together, we share

God’s chair, a child’s face, google eyes

It may rain tonight

I hear my voice: “I am here again.”

Ode to Teachers

I wanted to blog and post pictures of some great cloud formations around Edmonton last night, but I received an email and there was an idea I could not resist. We each had teachers, and I use the word in its broadest definition, who made an impact on our lives. Ruth is someone I taught with for 12 years.  I use the word taught guardedly and refuse to use the work word to describe our relationship. We learned together. Learning is different and is relational. In her email, she described a visit with a parent of a former student and shared this phrase, ‘child whisperer.’

Each of us, had or have people in our lives in many forms who fit the phrase. They remind us of what the root word of educate is–educare. Even the Latin word speaks of care, which I think is vital to the relational nature of learning.

I can think of many who filled the role. Sister Phillips was my first grade teacher. She was a member of the Catholic order the Sisters of Service and it was special in her class. Later, in high school, I had Ms. Lyford, a short, stocky Australian woman who loved Shakespeare. She once said, “Ivon, if you only tried you would be an A student.” She did it loving and in a caring way, I think. I was good with a B and explained that to her.

Outside school it was my grandmother and mother. I still learn from them although the former is long past away and my mother lives 8 hours away. I learned from my father-in-law and mother-in-law and, needless to say, I learn from the daughter I married. I learn from our boys and my students in many ways. This list is incomplete, but the point is : Great teachers are great not because they tell you do something, but because they lead you to want to do it and ignite your imagination and spirit for learning in a magical way .”

Blend compassion and passion

Bring out the best in each child

Walk with them

Open your heart

Greet them

With your story

Receive their stories gently

Reveal vulnerability

Be a guide they need

In each moment

Learn, share, create

Listen and hear

And speak in a voice

Only a child whisperer can.

Take a moment, tell us about a teacher or teachers who made a difference for you, who whispered at the right moment and spoke the right words lighting a fire in your spirit.

Henry David Thoreau

It is the 150th anniversary of Thoreau’s death. I find his thinking and writing refreshing. His quotes always give on pause to think about the world and this short poem expresses what one can hope life will be like. I just finished reading Experiments in Ethics by Kwame Appiah. If I could summarize that with one quote, it would be this one by Thoreau. I added a haiku below the picture.

experience life

a rich, bountiful harvest

savour over time.

Have a great July 12, 2012. Smile at someone; make them wonder.

Is It Art?

Last night, I went for a short walk and on the way back sat on a bench overlooking the Spokane River. There are two benches there. I glanced over at the second bench and noticed three pine cones. There is a pattern emerging here: one of me, two benches, and three pine cones. The cones were neatly organized and I wondered who left the art behind. The wonder was strong enough I share the picture and a few lines of poetry.

A gift received

Left by nature in some form

Maybe urban art.

Have a great July 11th, 2012

There Are a Lot of Mockingbirds in This Book by Mary Oliver

Sabbath was good. I feel rejuvenated and more at rest plus I got a lot done. Sat quietly twice during the day, went to church, and shared pizza with friends.

I read. I randomly chose a poem from Evidence by Mary Oliver called There Are Lot of Mockingbirds in This Book and read when I first got up. The last three stanzas really stood out. We plan and over plan and it is those unexpected things that reveal themselves. We just have to wait. I also read Derek Boks, Parker Palmer, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Wayne Muller, a bit of an eclectic mix.

The quiet gave me time to digest food and food for thought. I disconnected to reconnect.

this is isn’t nature

where the sweetest things, being hidden in leaves

and thorn-thick bushes

reveal themselves rarely–

this is a book

of the heart’s rapture,

of hearing and praising

and never forgetting

so that the world

is what the world is

in a long lifetime:

singer after singer

bursts from the thorn bush,

now, and again, and again,

their songs in the mind forever.

Have a great 10th of July. Smile at someone secretly.

Sabbath – A Poem

Recently, I posted Humility and referenced Wayne Muller’s book Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest. He suggested we all need to take time, disconnect, and do those things and be with those people in our immediate lives which bring us moments of quiet and refuge. He has offered a new awareness for me of what was missing in my life, a calm, tranquil, restful time I share with those immediately around me and my self. I am disconnected for the next 36 hours. I will just be.

I leave with a found poem of sorts. I chose words from the book that exemplified my understanding of Sabbath. I look forward to comments and likes when I return on Monday morning.

Shine the light

Reveal a next step

On the journey.

Moments of remembrance

Blessing gifts received

Delight in life

Reflect in wonder.

Uplift the spirit

Care for the body

Rest your soul

Take refuge

Take sanctuary

In the moment

Hibernate, lie fallow.

Insight, wisdom, compassion

Arise from stillness

A bell chimes

Time transformed

Mindfulness consecrates the day

Timeless words revere the day.

Bring forward

Right speech, right action, right effort

Break bread

Companionship

Refuge.

Heal, liberate, surrender

Receive and give

Lovingkindness

In each breath

An inner light attracts

Leads home

In each breath

The rhythms of life, earth, action, rest

The Sabbath arrives.

Haiku Haven

I had some thoughts come to me while sitting quietly and wanted to share them in the form of a haiku.

ebbing and flowing

each moment’s uniqueness

a tended garden.

Melody Lowes inspired the second poem. She is a wonderful poet, photographer, and gardener. She posted a poem called Baby Steps.

 slow is freedom’s flight

a question to live into

gifts of poetry.