Tanka
The fields are open
to the moon and falling snow,
an old, well-worn book
the moon reads through shadows
before she drifts off to sleep.
Gratitude List:
1. Sharing lists of favorite books
2. Mary Oliver’s Red Bird
3. That garlicky guacamole my mom made–if that doesn’t send this cold running, I don’t know what will
4. Moments of illumination
5. Fairy Tales
May we walk in Beauty
(on the day of the massacre of the people of the Conestoga 250 years ago)
Come with me now, Bright Souls
and we’ll sit in a circle together.
Silently a while. Then we talk.
Light six candles
for the people of the longhouse
who died that wintry dawning.
The air is filled already
with too many words.
The day carries so many mutterings
on the wind, on the wings
of the vulture, drifting
above the broken fields.
Sheehays, Wa-a-shen,
Tee-kau-ley, Ess-canesh,
Tea-wonsha-i-ong,
Kannenquas.
If we are to keep awake,
to live in the place
where the heart stays open,
then perhaps we must look
into the teeth of the story.
Together we gaze at those shadows.
Together we speak their names.
Together we listen for the sparrow’s call.
At the place of the great stone
I did not speak their names.
I left my shell there at that place
in the glittering sun.
Some days I cannot bear the darkness,
but I will close my eyes and sing
while you keep vigil near me.
And when you falter, too,
I will have found the strength renewed
to witness the tale while you sing to me.
Perhaps you will not believe me
when I tell you: As I drove
that road toward the River,
six deer ran across blue shadows
cast by afternoon sun on snow,
over the fields to the road.
They paused a moment to watch
the golden fish of my car approach,
then slipped across Indian Marker Road
and were gone, past the still pond
and into a fringe of wood.
Gratitude List:
1. Deer running through blue shadows on a snowy field
2. The winter slant of light, sparkling on snow
3. Roasted Brussels Sprouts, and radishes and turnips and potatoes and carrots
4. Snails. Who would have thought I would love snails so? Now that the fish has died, the snails provide much more entertainment than I would have expected. The big blue one has doubled its size in two weeks’ time. Their antennae are swirly.
5. Learning to listen, to wait
May we walk in Beauty.
Gratitude List:
1. The light will return, the light will return, the light will return.
2. Vegetables harvested from right out of the snows
3. Nate Willing’s hot sauce. I think this is an appropriate time for an O.M.G. Sublime. On scrambled eggs for breakfast and quesadillas for supper.
4. So much love. So much light.
5. The Motherline.
I am Beth Weaver-Kreider,
daughter of Ruth Slabaugh Weaver,
daughter of Lura Lauver Slabaugh,
daughter of Mary Emma Graybill Lauver,
daughter of Elizabeth Shelley Graybill,
daughter of Lydia Gingrich Shelley,
daughter of Elizabeth Light Gingrich,
daughter of Mary Dohner Light,
daughter of Anna Landis Dohner,
daughter of Fronica Groff Landis,
daughter of Susanna Kendig Orendorf Groff,
daughter of Elsbeth Meili Kundig (?),
daughter of Anna Barbara Bar Meili,
daughter of Barbara Biedermann Bar (born 1580 in Hausen, Switzerland). Thanks for starting up the conversation again, Sarah Preston.
May we walk in Beauty!
Before I had children, no one told me how sneaky I would have to become as a parent. How, in order to keep the house from folding in on itself from all the doodads and detritus and general junk accumulated at an alarming rate by the wee ones I would need to make regular trips through the house when the children are away or asleep in order to gather up bits and pieces and odds and ends to toss or give away. How the sound of that sweet little wonder-filled voice in the breezeway next to the giveaway boxes would strike frustration to the core of me: “Oh! I remember this!” This being a hard plastic Garfield tchotchke with a head that rotates on some sort of spring mechanism, only the spring part is broken, and the nameplate on the base has begun to wear off, leaving the letters “arf.” (Please don’t dig any deeper in that bag, please. . .)
So what a surprise today when we were cleaning and tidying, and all of a sudden my gadget-obsessed seven-year-old was handing me his entire collection of broken calculators, and the four-year-old gave away all the Angry Birds kitsch he scored at a birthday party two weeks ago.
These kids are so often little walls of resistance, using every tool they can create to define their own parameters, to make their choices their own. I am finding that there’s an exquisite balance here–to nurture and bless their autonomy while also giving them the boundaries they need in order to thrive. Sometimes my refusal to budge creates greater walls, creates defiance. And sometimes their resistance is simply rote reaction, and all they need is a little push from me.
I don’t like to be forced to give up my stuff either, but occasionally I would be glad of a little gnome wandering through my house at night and packing off a handful of projects that haven’t seen the light of day for months or years. She just needs to get them out of the house before I wake up and see them: “Oh! I remember this!”
Gratitude List:
1. Being considered for the job, even if it’s not my skill set.
2. Cleaning out
3. Clearing up
4. Seed Catalogs
5. Nothing is Written in Stone
May we walk in Beauty.
I was born after the death of JFK, so I could never quite understand the depth that a single news event carried in the lives of my parents’ generation. . .until the day I joined the world in observing a vastly different news story, one of great hope and joy, the day Nelson Mandela was released from jail. There’s a crispness and a clarity to the memory, a sense of knowing I was living in one of those historical moments that would carry significance beyond the mere opening of a prison door.
As a college student, my developing political and social consciousness gained focus and momentum from the worldwide pressure upon the South African government to do the right thing. It was my first experience with choosing to boycott corporations which put their bottom line before human rights. It was our opportunity as young activists to put our budding social consciences to work.
It’s not grief, really, that I feel at his death today at the age of 95. We knew the day was coming. Indeed, there were premature reports of his death only a few months ago. It’s been rehearsed. Nevertheless, a great light has gone from among us, a powerful chapter has come to a close, a good man has gone on.
Gratitude List for the gifts Mandela gave the world:
1. For his unswerving commitment to human rights and equality, to basic human dignity.
2. For his tenacity in the face of injustice, great hardship, and terrible wrong.
3. For his firm choice to choose a path of reconciliation and peace rather than vengeance and retribution, even when vengeance seemed his right.
4. For the way he turned our minds and hearts towards the work of creating a more just world.
5. For his humanity and humility.
May we walk in Beauty.
“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” –Nelson Mandela
“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” –Nelson Mandela
“I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.” –Nelson Mandela
“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” –Nelson Mandela
“Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.”–Nelson Mandela
<Quotations found on GoodReads>
<Prompt 30: Last One. Write a Disappearing Poem> An interesting piece of synchronicity: someone declared today (Nov. 30) to be the International Day of Remembrance for Lost Species.
One black rhino falls on the Savannah.
Deep in shadowed jungles,
the Formosan clouded leopard
winks out of time.
Poor old Lonesome George,
the last Pinta Island Tortoise,
slowly ages to stone. And gone.
Celia, the last Pyrenean Ibex, taking
one last breath beneath a quivering acacia
on a windswept, sunset plain.
The Japanese river otter. The Liverpool Pigeon.
The Eastern cougar. Javan Tiger. Golden Toad.
The Ivory-Billed. . .don’t say it.
The Ivory. . .no, not yet.
Keep that door open yet a little longer.
Listen for the wheep and cluck
deep in the swamp. Watch
for that flash of white through the mosses.
From the State Museum of PA
Gratitude List:
1. Hope
2. Warmth
3. Light
4. Art
5. This moment.
May we walk in Beauty.
<Prompt 29: Write a Commercial Poem> Oy. I’m tired. Here’s a toss-off:
Face it. You’re not good enough,
not clean enough, not nice enough,
not beautiful.
You need more stuff to fill you up,
to ease your grief, to fit your need,
to fill the hole.
Don’t you feel that blinding ache,
relentless need, the restless urge,
desire’s pull?
Just buy more stuff, just do your part
to keep the Corporation in the black,
to meet our goals.
Gratitude List:
1. Venus! She is so big and bright she makes me want to grab my frankincense, saddle up the camels and slouch off to Bethlehem with the other rough beasts.
2. Day trip to the State Museum of PA. We got a membership to all the state museums for half price, and free parking for the day, to boot. It was wonderful and educational.
3. The Bird People of the Susquehannocks. Carved as glyphs into the rocks into the middle of the river, wings spread and soaring. Carved standing into shell and bone, wings folded, beaked faces watchful.
4. Reading Anne of Green Gables to the boys.
5. You. Have I said that yet? I am so very grateful for you.
May we walk in Beauty.
<Prompt 28: Write a Bird Poem>
Laughter hovers like a bird
in the listening air around us.
Chuckles like feathers
float around the room,
and all is well for this breath.
And for this one.
The air crackles and rustles
with the winged ones watching.
And all is well.
All is well for this moment.
Gratitude List:
1. You. Just You.
2. Because how knowing you makes me be a better me.
3. Because you make me see colors and hear sounds and taste flavors that I wouldn’t have understood without you.
4. Because you make sense of things that I can’t make sense of.
5. Because you ask the right questions, and don’t always have the answers, but sometimes you do.
May we walk together in Beauty.
<Prompt 27: Write a Local Poem>
It may feel like a secret,
like a spider hidden in shadow
in the corner by the bookcase,
but I see how your heart opens
again, like a flower, like the view
when the trees have shed
their summer dresses
and the view from Mt. Pisgah
opens toward the River.
The riot of green, then autumn,
though lush and rich, has hidden
the heart from the valley below,
and now, when the trunks stand bare,
the truth of the valley
is laid out before you.
Gratitude List:
1. Secret messages
2. Rafiki’s Maandazis
3. Conversations with strangers
4. Pope Francis
5. Hyssop and rose tea
May we walk in Beauty.
<Prompt 26: Write a (Blank) Free, or Free (Blank) Poem, or both>
The poem that I wrote yesterday was in a Spanish form called shadorma. Six lines, 3/5/3/3/7/5. Today’s poem is also a shadorma. I love the name.
You are free
to tell your story
as you please.
Always you
are free to shift the plot or
wander off the page.
The 1719 Hans Herr House and The Longhouse recreation
Gratitude List:
1. Naps! Especially this part: While I was napping on the couch, Joss found a blanket and carefully covered me up, then found another and fell asleep with it on the floor beside me. When we woke up and I thanked him for taking such good care of his Mama, he walked over to me and kissed my hand.
2. Parent-teacher conference. Really, we have lucked out (seriously lucked out) with an amazing teacher for Ellis’s first year. She likes his smile. And his careful deliberation in his work. And she loves to teach.
3. Two people in my circles who have been on ventilators are breathing on their own, both waking up. Thanks for all your prayers. Recovery may be long and arduous, but the first bout of anxious waiting is coming to an end for their loved ones.
4. Crossword puzzles
5. Wool sweaters and hot tea
May we walk in Beauty.
Mockingbird Chronicles 