Tag Archives: poetry

These Days

Posted on March 3, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I take my leave for the next day and will return Monday. I find in the quiet time those important things, their roots, and the dirt they grew in. Several Buddhist authors wrote about the need to recognize both the flowers and the weeds in our gardens. Charles Olson wrote this beautiful, simple, short poem I think echoes that message. I examine life fully and grow attentive, present, and creative in moments of solitude. The gap between stimulus and response grows. I explore radical opportunities to respond, not react. Enjoy.

whatever you have to say, leave
the roots on, let them
dangle

And the dirt

Just to make clear
where they come from

12 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Buddhism, charles olson, Charles Olson. These Days, creativity, Mindful Practice, poetry, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Preface to Leaves of Grass

Posted on March 2, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I re-blogged Distraction and Love yesterday. John posted it originally at What is Real True Love? He followed up to comment and left a long, wonderful comment with quotes. What distracts us? I only ask and answer that question when I have the space and solitude. It is in those moments that I can hold my questions and have enough compassion to receive the answers. I was led to this passage by Walt Whitman from John’s comments. I gently question my facts and truths, learned throughout my life in the quiet of meditation and prayer.

I love his beard and hair. When I grow up, I might look like him. I hope to find the wisdom Whitman spoke of so eloquently. Enjoy.

“Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote you income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take your hat off to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul your very flesh shall be a great poem.”

23 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, leadership, Leaves of Grass, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Walt Whitman, What is Real True Love. Bookmark the permalink.

Life Is…

Posted on February 28, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

We are writing poetry at school. Tomorrow, we write extended metaphors. I provide examples for students. I wrote this extended metaphor several years ago. I hope you enjoy.

Life is a spirited ride…
It soars;
Plummets;
Break neck speed.

Out of control;
On the edge;
It swerves–
Remains on the rails.

Never fully alone;
Solitude appears when needed;
Safe, yet vulnerable–
This paradox.

I breathe deep,
Exhilarated—
Life fully lived and experienced;
Not meant to be tamed.

39 Comments

Posted in Education, Lesson Plans, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, Life is, metaphors, Mindful Practice, poetry, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Posted on February 26, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

This is not the poem. I chose a part that speaks to me deeply. I tend to be a bit of rebel. I know it hard to believe, but I am always willing, when others are not, to shake up the things as they are. T. S. Eliot said it so well: “Do I dare/Disturb the universe?” I find comfort some days in the power of that question. What in my universe needs to be disturbed? Even as I grow older, what does wisdom call on me to do that ruffles my feathers and those around me?

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea…

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

14 Comments

Posted in Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, eloquent questions, leadership, Mindful Practice, mindfulness, poetry, T. S. Eliot, teacher as transformer, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Bookmark the permalink.

Stillness, Silence, Insight, Clarity

Posted on February 24, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I am reading Buddha’s Brain which summarizes the neuroscience about the benefits of meditation and solitude. The authors, Rick Hanson and Richard Mendius, intertwined science and poetry from practitioners of contemplative practices.

A few weeks ago, I began to blog differently and blogged less each day plus plus continued to take a day away from the computer. I thought I would feel less connected, but I feel more connected. I might have more clarity when I blog as I move in and out of stillness and quiet. I leave you with this short and profound poem by Tenzin Priyadarshi from the above noted book.

If there is no stillness,

there is no silence.

If there is no silence,

there is no insight.

If there is no insight,

there is no clarity.

27 Comments

Posted in Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged blogging, clarity, insight, Mindful Practice, poetry, quiet, Richard Mendius, Rick Hanson, spirituality, stillness, teacher as transformer, Tenzin Priyadarshi. Bookmark the permalink.

Little Gidding V

Posted on February 23, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

As I rested today, I missed the opportunity to be out there exploring. T. S. Eliot eloquently spoke of this. I seek for and find when I explore the cyclical journey we call life. When I open my eyes, my heart, and my mind like a small child I find the apple-tree of my dreams. When I quiet my thoughts I can hear in the stillness between the waves. The gap between the stimulus and response grows in that way.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, remembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half heard, in the stillness
Between the two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always–
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of things shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

17 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, Little Gidding V, Mindful Practice, nature, poetry, spirituality, T. S. Eliot, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

The Way It Is

Posted on February 21, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

William Stafford wrote this beautiful poem about letting life emerge. There is something that guides each of us. We can call it wisdom, intuition, tradition, or common sense. It is at one level indefinable and, yet very real. Life unfolds for us despite our best plans. Retrospectively, I see the path I walked is different than the one I might have envisioned in my plans. Something helped with each step; that indefinable thread. I am grateful for many of the things I received which I did not plan for.

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread

14 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community wisdom, creativity, inner wisdom, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, The Way it Is, William Stafford. Bookmark the permalink.

Manifesto of a Mad Farmer

Posted on February 19, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Tony at A Way With Words asked if I like Wendell Berry. I do and rank him among my favourite poets. When I hear or read his name, I think of this poem.

What does it mean to be radical? The word radical comes from Old English and means going to one’s origins or roots. When I read this poem, it reminds me of the possibilities in a radical life. I can seek out my roots, the wisdom of those who came before me, and lived on the land. I love the second stanza and it just carries on from there for the rest of the poem.

Do something that does not compute, make many tracks, and sometimes confuse the world of where I go. Go against the grain.

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion – put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

21 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Synchronicity and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, Manifesto of a Mad Farmer, Mindful Practice, nature, poetry, stewardship, teacher as transformer, Wendell Berry. Bookmark the permalink.

Let Evening Come

Posted on February 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I am at the end of the week. It was good. Silver Birch Press invited me to submit a poem for publication and I sent End of the Week for an upcoming anthology. When I began to write poetry again a few months ago, it filled a creative and reflective void in my life. I did not expect the invitation, so I am grateful for the invitation and acceptance.

Jane Kenyon wrote this beautiful poem about the end of day. I think it speaks to the need for sabbath on a daily basis and at the end of the week. Last week, when I attended a presentation by Dr. Philip McCrae he used the term digital sabbath at one point. As I navigate this emergent digital landscape, I recognize the importance of taking time each day away from the computer. It made a difference this past week. In the silence, I find peace, wisdom, and love in the gap between each moment.

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

32 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged creativity, End of the Week, Jane Kenyon, Let Evening Come, Mindful Practice, Phil McCrae, poetry, Silver Birch Press, spirituality, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Making Contact

Posted on February 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

What drew me to education? I believed, and still do, I make a difference in the lives of young people entrusted to me for a year or more by their parents. It is a covenant. Yesterday, someone noticed a sticker on the classroom door. Someone had written: “Mr. P. is a good Math teacher.” A student asked if I was a good Math teacher and I responded, “No, I teach students, not subjects.” Virginia Satir described the contact teachers encourage children’s lives. We must never lose this aspect of relationship with other people, particularly children. The reciprocal nature of being is critical to humanity and humanness. The whole person emerges in the safety of these relationships.

I believe

The greatest gift

I can conceive of having from anyone

to be seen by them,

heard by them,

to be understood

and touched by them.

The greatest gift

I can give

is to see, hear, understand

and to touch

another person.