Theresa captured it all – for sons, for daughters, for all of us – great advice.
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And so it has taken me all of sixty years to understand
This poem hit me viscerally…from the title through the last line. We learn so much, so late. Though arguably if we never learn, that would be the worst outcome of all.
Neither music,
fame, nor wealth,
not even poetry itself,
could provide consolation
for life’s brevity,
or the fact that King Lear
is a mere eighty pages long and comes to an end
and for the thought that one might suffer greatly
on account of a rebellious child…
And so
it has taken me
all of sixty years
to understand
that water is the finest drink,
and bread the most delicious food,
and that art is worthless
unless it plants
a measure of splendor in people’s hearts.
After we die,
and the weary heart
has lowered its final eyelid
on all that we’ve done,
and on all that we longed for,
on all that we’ve dreamt of,
all we’ve desired
or felt,
hate will be
the first thing
to putrefy
within us.
–Taha Muhammad Ali, Excerpt from the poem “Twigs“ in “So What, New and Selected Poems”
About…
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The English Plural
I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!!
The English Plural by George Carlin
We’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.
If the plural of man is always called men,
Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen?
If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth?
Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural…
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When Your Life Looks Back
This poem left me speechless and thoughtful. This – our lives.
When your life looks back—
as it will, at itself, at you—what will it say?
Inch of colored ribbon cut from the spool.
Flame curl, blue-consuming the log it flares from.
Bay leaf. Oak leaf. Cricket. One among many.
Your life will carry you as it did always,
with ten fingers and both palms,
with horizontal ribs and upright spine,
with its filling and emptying heart,
that wanted only your own heart, emptying, filled, in return.
You gave it. What else could you do?
Immersed in air or in water.
Immersed in hunger or anger.
Curious even when bored.
Longing even when running away.
“What will happen next?”—
the question hinged in your knees, your ankles,
in the in-breaths even of weeping.
Strongest of magnets, the future impartial drew you in.
Whatever direction you turned toward was face to face.
No back of the world existed,
no unseen corner, no…
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The New Work of Age: Deep Thinking
I have been having many conversations with friends of mine about what the second half holds. The key perhaps is in re-defining one’s understanding of the concept of ‘doing’ – turning that energy inward and valuing it as much as one valued all those years of externalized effort. Some thoughts for this morning…
Good Friday morning, everyone. My friend Dorothy Sander wrote today’s post. Dorothy blogs for the Huffington Post, and her blog, Aging Abundantly, is another joyful resource for those of us in the second half.
This is her response to “I Don’t Want to Live Forever”. I felt empowered by Dorothy’s words. Hope you do, too.
How very sad that advancing years seems to spawn despair and a sense of hopelessness and fear. About ten years ago, in my early 50’s I watched my parents journey through their last days, one dying at 89, the other at 97 and the thing that struck me then was exactly that. They couldn’t figure out how to live without “doing” something. I vowed then, that I would try to figure out a better way to die so that I don’t have to die in despair.
I have been wrestling with my own version…
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Lost
I keep returning to this poem, to these words – with my heart saying ‘yes’ and eyes wet with tears. Happy Sunday all.
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
~~ David Wagoner ~~
Beautiful Blessings Remain
Last week, my wondrous friend Lori (donnanddiablo.com) sent me one of John O’Donahue‘s exquisite blessings. I used to consider myself well-read – until I met Lori; moderately well-rounded – until I started following David Kanigan (davidkanigan.com), a tad lyrical – until I found Bill (drbillwooten.com). I also considered myself to have a modicum of some other qualities that have been brought into some question now that I am an avid fan of many of your blogs (and I could go on, but you know from my comments how highly I think of you very, very talented people who enrich my life so often). Creative, courageous, innovative, funny, unbridled – some of the adjectives that come to mind..
Anyhow, Lori and I are connected in ways too cosmic for me to fully understand. Our emails cross each other in the cyberspace almost daily, each of us thinking of the other simultaneously. She can intuit when something’s wrong, and I will feel a shadow across the sun if Lori is troubled. That I can sense something is ‘off’ with Jo for example, seems to come with breathing – we’ve known each other longer than we have known ourselves. But Lori and I began in tune without ever having met. I find it incredible and awesome. I feel this way about all those I love – each is a blessing. Corny? Mea culpa. Is there a way to say this without sounding corny? Probably, but this is a reflection of my limitation with the language nothing more.
I hadn’t heard of John O’Donahue. How I could have missed such beauty? So I share this with you – though it is Lori who should be thanked for this introduction. After emailing with a friend of mine earlier this morning, thinking about how we test ourselves and occasionally torture our thoughts and hearts, it seemed only right that I pass this along to you. I hope you receive it in the spirit with which it is given – with hope in the sunlight.
A Blessing For The New Year
On a day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The gray window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colors
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the curragh of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.
Random Acts of Kindness Caught on Film
This humbled me, made me smile and cry simultaneously…the small moments that people didn’t let get away and others will always remember.
the rest is just sand
I have read and heard this story many times – and it still strikes a chord in me..
I posted this in Sept. 2013 … but I think it’s about time to re-post. Personal I just love this story.
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle when 24 hours are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and two cups of coffee:
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. Again he asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor next picked…
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Story : What it matters is glass or lake, where you mix the salt?
What I particularly like about this story is the idea of expanding one’s perspective when feeling sorrow. Typically, when I’m sad or feeling bummed, I contract, making my world smaller and my sorrow much larger. I love the visual of ‘being the lake’…
Once an unhappy young man came to an old master and told he had a very sad life and asked for a solution.
The old Master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then to drink it.
“How does it taste?” – the Master asked.
“Terrible.” – spat the apprentice.
The Master chuckled and then asked the young man to take another handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake and when the apprentice swirled his handful of salt into the lake.
The old man said, “Now drink from the lake.”
As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the Master asked, “How does it taste?”
“Good!” – remarked the apprentice.
“Do you taste the salt?” – asked the Master.
“No.” – said the young man.
The Master sat…
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Write it on your heart…
I used to keep this in a frame on my desk in my office before I retired. I need to find the box it is packed in – wonderful words to live by.
Write it on your heart
that every day is the best day in the year.
He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day
who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.
Finish each day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in;
forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day;
begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit
to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
This new day is too dear,
with its hopes and invitations,
to waste a moment on the yesterdays.
~~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~~
Snap Your Joy
From Todd Lohenry and David Kanigan – a perfect Friday post.
Waiting for the Karma Truck 