My Father's Geography
By Afaa M. Weaver
I was parading the Côte d'Azur,
hopping the short trains from Nice to Cannes,
following the maze of streets in Monte Carlo
to the hill that overlooks the ville.
A woman fed me pâté in the afternoon,
calling from her stall to offer me more.
At breakfast I talked in French with an old man
about what he loved about America--the Kennedys.
On the beaches I walked and watched
topless women sunbathe and swim,
loving both home and being so far from it.
At a phone looking to Africa over the Mediterranean,
I called my father, and, missing me, he said,
"You almost home boy. Go on cross that sea!"
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Tuesday Thought: Compassion
"A human being is a part of the
whole called by us universe, a part
limited in time and space. He experiences
himself, his thoughts and feeling as
something separated from the rest, a
kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.
This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires and to
affection for a few persons nearest to us.
Our task must be to free ourselves from
this prison by widening our circle of
compassion to embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty."
--Albert Einstein
"A human being is a part of the
whole called by us universe, a part
limited in time and space. He experiences
himself, his thoughts and feeling as
something separated from the rest, a
kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.
This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting us to our personal desires and to
affection for a few persons nearest to us.
Our task must be to free ourselves from
this prison by widening our circle of
compassion to embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature in its beauty."
--Albert Einstein
Monday, November 08, 2004
Looking back...
Sometimes I wonder if anybody cares about
the same things I care about. Blame it on my
nostalgic side, but for me it is important to
reflect on the past at times.
For example, click here and find out something
about our next door neighbors in Martins Ferry
in the 1950s.
Sometimes I wonder if anybody cares about
the same things I care about. Blame it on my
nostalgic side, but for me it is important to
reflect on the past at times.
For example, click here and find out something
about our next door neighbors in Martins Ferry
in the 1950s.
The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
This one never gets old...
"God grant me the serenity to accept
the things I cannot change, courage
to change the things I can, and wisdom
to know the difference."
--The Serenity Prayer
I first encountered this prayer in 1969
when I graduated high school. A plaque
with this prayer was given to me by a
neighbor in St. Clairsville, Mrs. Styles, as a
graduation present.
At the time, I thought it was silly because
at 18 I was dead-set on changing the world.
The older I get, the more this small prayer
has come to mean to me.
Dear Mrs. Styles, Thank you from the
bottom of my heart.
"God grant me the serenity to accept
the things I cannot change, courage
to change the things I can, and wisdom
to know the difference."
--The Serenity Prayer
I first encountered this prayer in 1969
when I graduated high school. A plaque
with this prayer was given to me by a
neighbor in St. Clairsville, Mrs. Styles, as a
graduation present.
At the time, I thought it was silly because
at 18 I was dead-set on changing the world.
The older I get, the more this small prayer
has come to mean to me.
Dear Mrs. Styles, Thank you from the
bottom of my heart.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Autumn Poem
By Mary Oliver
In the last jovial, clear-sky days of autumn
the mockingbird
in his monk-gray coat
and his arrowy wings
flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing — but it's neither loose, nor lilting, nor lovely —
it's more like whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges.
All birds are birds of heaven
but this one, especially, adores the earth so well
he would imitate, for half the day and on into the
evening,
its ticks and wheezings,
and so I have to wait a long time
for the soft, true voice
of his own glossy life
to come through,
and of course I do.
I don't know what it is that makes him, finally, look
inward
to the sweet spring of himself, that mirror of heaven,
but when it happens —
when he lifts his head
and the feathers of his throat tremble,
and he begins, like Saint Francis,
little flutterings and leapings from the pine's forelock,
resettling his strong feet each time among the branches,
I am recalled,
from so many wrong paths I can't count them,
simply to stand, and listen.
All my life I have lived in a kind of haste and darkness
of desire, ambition, accomplishment.
Now the bird is singing, but not anymore of this world.
And something inside myself is fluttering and leaping, is
trying
to type it down, in lumped-up language,
in outcry, in patience, in music, in a snow-white book.
By Mary Oliver
In the last jovial, clear-sky days of autumn
the mockingbird
in his monk-gray coat
and his arrowy wings
flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing — but it's neither loose, nor lilting, nor lovely —
it's more like whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges.
All birds are birds of heaven
but this one, especially, adores the earth so well
he would imitate, for half the day and on into the
evening,
its ticks and wheezings,
and so I have to wait a long time
for the soft, true voice
of his own glossy life
to come through,
and of course I do.
I don't know what it is that makes him, finally, look
inward
to the sweet spring of himself, that mirror of heaven,
but when it happens —
when he lifts his head
and the feathers of his throat tremble,
and he begins, like Saint Francis,
little flutterings and leapings from the pine's forelock,
resettling his strong feet each time among the branches,
I am recalled,
from so many wrong paths I can't count them,
simply to stand, and listen.
All my life I have lived in a kind of haste and darkness
of desire, ambition, accomplishment.
Now the bird is singing, but not anymore of this world.
And something inside myself is fluttering and leaping, is
trying
to type it down, in lumped-up language,
in outcry, in patience, in music, in a snow-white book.
Saturday, November 06, 2004
James Wright Festival, 2005
Is it on your schedule? It should be!
This is the 25th annual festival to celebrate the poetry of James Wright in Martins Ferry, Ohio, which is his hometown and mine, and my buddy Dan Shimp in Santa Fe, .
Check it out here.
Is it on your schedule? It should be!
This is the 25th annual festival to celebrate the poetry of James Wright in Martins Ferry, Ohio, which is his hometown and mine, and my buddy Dan Shimp in Santa Fe, .
Check it out here.
On second thought...
"For a long time it had seemed to me
that life was about to begin--real life.
But there was always some obstacle in
the way, something to be gotten through
first, some unfinished business, time still
to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life
would begin. At last it dawned on me that
these obstacles were my life."
-- Alfred D. Souza
"For a long time it had seemed to me
that life was about to begin--real life.
But there was always some obstacle in
the way, something to be gotten through
first, some unfinished business, time still
to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life
would begin. At last it dawned on me that
these obstacles were my life."
-- Alfred D. Souza
Friday, November 05, 2004
Road Poem
By Don
Braving the highways of life,
Six AM,
Numbing radio talk...
just idle chatter,
I-80 eastbound...
Mercer just behind me
Clarion just ahead,
So many 18-wheelers
this rainy Thursday morning,
Memories of old times
in Martins Ferry...
drift by like butterflies in clouds,
Dreary morning...
thinking alone,
before my coffee.
By Don
Braving the highways of life,
Six AM,
Numbing radio talk...
just idle chatter,
I-80 eastbound...
Mercer just behind me
Clarion just ahead,
So many 18-wheelers
this rainy Thursday morning,
Memories of old times
in Martins Ferry...
drift by like butterflies in clouds,
Dreary morning...
thinking alone,
before my coffee.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
On second thought...
Believe nothing just because a so-called
wise person said it. Believe nothing just
because a belief is generally held. Believe
nothing just because it is said in ancient
books. Believe nothing just because it
is said to be of divine origin. Believe
nothing just because someone else
believes it. Believe only what you
yourself test and judge to be true.
[paraphrased]
--Buddha
Believe nothing just because a so-called
wise person said it. Believe nothing just
because a belief is generally held. Believe
nothing just because it is said in ancient
books. Believe nothing just because it
is said to be of divine origin. Believe
nothing just because someone else
believes it. Believe only what you
yourself test and judge to be true.
[paraphrased]
--Buddha
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Monday, November 01, 2004
Sunday, October 31, 2004
~ The Invitation ~
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow.
If you have been opened by life's betrayals,
or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own.
If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own self.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday,
and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,
for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow.
If you have been opened by life's betrayals,
or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own.
If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own self.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty everyday,
and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone,
and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
On second thought...
Sann-ya-sin
"One who . . is dedicated to the life of spiritual growth and values, and to their teaching to others." Source: "Serving Humanity", Alice Bailey
"A Sannyasin cannot belong to any religion, for his is a life of independent thought, which draws from all religions; his is a life of realisation, not merely of theory or belief, much less of dogma".
Source: Swami Vivekananda
Sann-ya-sin
"One who . . is dedicated to the life of spiritual growth and values, and to their teaching to others." Source: "Serving Humanity", Alice Bailey
"A Sannyasin cannot belong to any religion, for his is a life of independent thought, which draws from all religions; his is a life of realisation, not merely of theory or belief, much less of dogma".
Source: Swami Vivekananda
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Friday, October 29, 2004
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
By Our Presence Alone
By Don
Inspire me,
don't lead me,
show me by example,
don't tell me,
let me hear you laugh,
let me see you cry,
let me hear your questions,
not the answers you find,
give me room to grow,
in the sunlight outside your shadow,
reassure me with your presence,
not your intervening thoughts or actions,
just be there and be who you are,
then I can find myself.
By Don
Inspire me,
don't lead me,
show me by example,
don't tell me,
let me hear you laugh,
let me see you cry,
let me hear your questions,
not the answers you find,
give me room to grow,
in the sunlight outside your shadow,
reassure me with your presence,
not your intervening thoughts or actions,
just be there and be who you are,
then I can find myself.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
On Friendship
By Don
Friends are wonderful living reminders,
they help us take off our blinders,
they fill us with good cheer,
and tell us not to fear.
Friends wake us when up we're sleeping,
they keep our love from seeping,
they show us the way when we are lost,
and give us their love at no cost.
Friends sit by our side when we're sick,
never a fight do they pick,
they tell us the things we need to hear,
even when we don't want to look in the mirror.
By Don
Friends are wonderful living reminders,
they help us take off our blinders,
they fill us with good cheer,
and tell us not to fear.
Friends wake us when up we're sleeping,
they keep our love from seeping,
they show us the way when we are lost,
and give us their love at no cost.
Friends sit by our side when we're sick,
never a fight do they pick,
they tell us the things we need to hear,
even when we don't want to look in the mirror.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Monday Thought: Einstein the Buddhist
"A human being is a part of the whole
called by us universe, a part limited in
time and space. He experiences himself,
his thoughts and feeling as something
separated from the rest, a kind of optical
delusion of his consciousness. This delusion
is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to
our personal desires and to affection for
a few persons nearest to us. Our task
must be to free ourselves from this prison
by widening our circle of compassion to
embrace all living creatures and the whole
of nature in its beauty."
--Albert Einstein
"A human being is a part of the whole
called by us universe, a part limited in
time and space. He experiences himself,
his thoughts and feeling as something
separated from the rest, a kind of optical
delusion of his consciousness. This delusion
is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to
our personal desires and to affection for
a few persons nearest to us. Our task
must be to free ourselves from this prison
by widening our circle of compassion to
embrace all living creatures and the whole
of nature in its beauty."
--Albert Einstein
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Friday, October 15, 2004
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Autumn Day in Cleveland
By Don
Noisy rambunctious bluejay,
bouncing frantically limb to limb,
golden sunlight streaks through treetops,
warming my inquisitive face
pressed against the window,
a single red maple leaf lets go
of her need to hold on,
Autumn day in Cleveland,
happiness is comfortably within reach today.
By Don
Noisy rambunctious bluejay,
bouncing frantically limb to limb,
golden sunlight streaks through treetops,
warming my inquisitive face
pressed against the window,
a single red maple leaf lets go
of her need to hold on,
Autumn day in Cleveland,
happiness is comfortably within reach today.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Shadow Truths
By Don
In ancient shadows find,
the sacred and sublime,
where darkness reveals the light,
the heart sees with perfect sight,
without the one, there is no other,
seek the truth without cover,
walk the path where shadows fall,
learn to walk it very tall,
the shadows tell what sun light hides,
for there too truth abides.
By Don
In ancient shadows find,
the sacred and sublime,
where darkness reveals the light,
the heart sees with perfect sight,
without the one, there is no other,
seek the truth without cover,
walk the path where shadows fall,
learn to walk it very tall,
the shadows tell what sun light hides,
for there too truth abides.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Monday, October 11, 2004
Sunday, October 10, 2004
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