Oh, goodness. I am exhausted tonight. Here’s a placeholder poem. One of my rules is that the poems don’t have to be polished. I go into the month knowing, especially in November, that I will have some evenings when I struggle to function, and can only publish a little bit of fluff.
How the Day Closes In by Beth Weaver-Kreider
my brain is fogged in caught in the mists not even the foghorn not even the lighthouse not even the grim shadows can guide me tonight my ship is enharbored for the foreseeable future
Gratitude List: 1. Cats who want to be next to me 2. Thanksgiving Break is coming up 3. A brisk after-dinner walk 4. Salmon patties 5. The satisfaction of a good stretch May we walk in Beauty!
Once, a few years ago, a student came running into class in an extreme state of excitement saying, “Ms Weaver-Kreider! I just discovered something amazing! I always thought that flamingos were like unicorns or fairies, but I just found out that they’re real!”
What a delightful discovery! To learn that something you always thought was mythical and magical actually exists! The absolute epiphany of that. The hope. Yes, it is indeed truly amazing.
Last week Keri, one of my beloved niblings*, wrote to tell me that she’s been seeing that flamingo story in her own self as she explores her own deep truths, and finds out who she is. She told me recently that she feels like she’s finally learning to love herself, discovering who she really is, and finding that discovery extremely satisfying. She said she feels like the girl discovering that flamingos are real. This thing, this elusive thing, that she’d always imagined was possible but slightly mythical is actually real! What a delight!
When you are on a journey of self-discovery and inner exploration, new fantastical creatures like unicorns and flamingos keep popping into existence. What a poetically rich way of looking at it.
May you find your flamingos. May you find your flamingos!
(*Nibling is the inclusive term for niece/nephew. I love it. Though every one of them is taller than me, some by more than a foot, they’ll always be my niblings.)
Gratitude List: 1. We’re on the way out of the tunnel. If you don’t experience winter blues or sadness, if you love this season, it’s hard to describe. It’s not about hating the cold or the darkness. It’s being exhausted to your bones. It’s exhaustion at a cellular level. Weary. I am doing all the right things: light therapy, drinking the teas, sleeping a lot, exercising more, eating good protein and well-balanced meals, yoga, breathing, meditation, grounding. The only real cure is for the sun to come back. And we’re on the way there. This one sounds much more like a complaint, but I think the context is important to express how grateful I am to be on this side of the winter tunnel. Every day, a little more light. 2. My colleagues. Part of the reason I am eating well is that in January someone brings lunch for everyone every day. Part of the reason I am being really good about exercising is that we’re doing our January Step Challenge right now. Some of these people are really competitive, so I’m not sure I am a great asset to my team, but I am plugging along, and getting a lot more steps than I would otherwise, which is the point. 3. The ruby-crowned kinglet we saw on the balcony this week. Such a little bunting of a bird, with a tiny touch of red on its head. 4. Fountain pens 5. Flamingos. Both the actual birds, and the delightful inner discoveries. May we walk in Beauty!
“Solitude is not an absence of energy or action, as some believe, but is rather a boon of wild provisions transmitted to us from the soul. In ancient times, purposeful solitude was both palliative and preventative. It was used to heal fatigue and to prevent weariness. It was also used as an oracle, as a way of listening to the inner self to solicit advice and guidance otherwise impossible to hear in the din of daily life.” —Clarissa Pinkola Estes
“No human race is superior; no religious faith is inferior. All collective judgments are wrong. Only racists make them.” —Elie Wiesel
The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
“In the course of history, there comes a time when humanity is called to shift to a new level of consciousness, to reach a higher moral ground. A time when we have to shed our fear and give hope to each other. That time is now.” —Wangari Maathai
“Language helps develop life as surely as it reflects life. It is the most important part of the human condition.” —Jane Yolen
“It is through beauty, poetry and visionary power that the world will be renewed.” —Maria Tatar
“And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.” —William Shakespeare, “As You Like It”
As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses For the people hear us singing, bread and roses, bread and roses.
As we come marching, marching, we battle too, for men, For they are in the struggle and together we shall win. Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes, Hearts starve as well as bodies, give us bread, but give us roses.
As we come marching, marching, un-numbered women dead Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread, Small art and love and beauty their trudging spirits knew Yes, it is bread we. fight for, but we fight for roses, too.
As we go marching, marching, we’re standing proud and tall. The rising of the women means the rising of us all. No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes, But a sharing of life’s glories, bread and roses, bread and roses. —James Oppenheim
“History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.” —Martin Luther King, Jr.
“Be kind to yourself—especially when others are not yet ready to affirm your favorite parts. Love at least one person more than they deserve.” —Bishop Meghan Rohrer
“We are called to assist the Earth to heal her wounds and in the process heal our own – indeed to embrace the whole of creation in all its diversity, beauty and wonder. Recognizing that sustainable development, democracy and peace are indivisible is an idea whose time has come.” ―Wangari Maathai
ollyollyoxenfree! who are olly’s oxen? why are they boxed-in and searching for freedom? like children running from hide and seek or kick-the-can uncaught uncaptured last to be found racing to safe haven sun setting over the hill oxen giggles echoing wiggling into base safe
I’m trying to drag myself through November and into December right now. I always feel a little guilty about these winter blues, as though I’m not trying hard enough to be energetic, not pushing myself through the blues. I would never tell a depressed person to suck it up and just try harder, so why do I tell myself to do that during November’s blahs and December’s doldrums?
I read a lovely thing today about how trees in our climate need their time of winter rest in order to survive. They actually need to winter. So. Me too. I’m going to let myself winter. Just sit on the couch and read or knit after dark (which feels like all the time when I am home these days). I ran a little this evening, but only a half mile or so. I’ll keep trying to get necessary exercise when I can, because I know that is supposed to help, but I am also going to get more sleep.
Gratitude List: 1. Cloud Dragons 2. I feel like all my classes are really into the class novels right now. I love sharing story with students. (We’re reading Touching Spirit Bear, Catch-22, and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) 3. Spaghetti Squash 4. Remembering to let myself Winter/hibernate/settle 5. You May we walk in Beauty!
“Healing comes in waves and maybe today the wave hits the rocks. And that’s ok, that’s ok, darling. You are still healing, you are still healing.” —Ijeoma Umebinyuo
“No matter where we are, the ground between us will always be sacred ground.“ —Fr. Henri Nouwen
“The truest art I would strive for in any work would be to give the page the same qualities as earth: weather would land on it harshly; light would elucidate the most difficult truths; wind would sweep away obtuse padding.” —Gretel Ehrlich
“The fact that these words and the jumble of lines that create their letters has no real, inherent meaning outside of a human context, yet they hum with life, is a wonderful reminder that what we imagine can easily become real and powerful simply because we decide it should be so.” —Jarod K. Anderson, The Cryptonaturalist
“Writing at the library. Surrounded by thousands of books, windows into other minds. Some of these writers are living. Some are not. Neatly ordered rectangles of concentrated human life and intellect. A book is certainly a kind of ghost and libraries are pleasantly haunted places.” —Jarod K. Anderson, The Cryptonaturalist
“The beauty of the world…has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.” —Virginia Woolf
I know nothing, except what everyone knows — If there when Grace dances, I should dance. —W.H. Auden
“I do believe in an everyday sort of magic—the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.” —Charles de Lint
“The innocence of our childhood lives on, in each one of us, no matter how old or battered we may be. Still that original goodness, that simple goodness, remains within us. Our best nature never grows old. What the Spirit first intended us to be is still there, peeping out from wrinkled eyes, caught in a quick glance in the mirror: the laughing, shining, curious child who lives again. And again and again. For we are made of the intention of heaven, a part of the perfect life at the center of all creation. Watch for your inner self, the ageless soul, and see it smiling back at you, like a little child caught beside the cookie jar.” —Steven Charleston
Mockingbird Chronicles 