When You Thought I Wasn't Looking

Came across this lovely poem by Mary Rita Schilke Korazan that I thought you might enjoy. It's a message every adult should read because children are watching you and doing as you do, not as you say.

When You Thought I Wasn't Looking

When you thought I wasn't looking,

I saw you hang my first painting on the refrigerator,

and I wanted to paint another one.

When you thought I wasn't looking, 

I saw you feed a stray cat,

and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking,

I saw you make my favorite cake for me,

and I knew that little things are special things.

When you thought I wasn't looking,

I heard you say a prayer,

and I believed that there was a God to talk to.

When you thought I wasn't looking,

I felt you kiss me goodnight,

and I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn't looking, 

I saw tears come from your eyes,

and I learned that sometimes things hurt,

but it's alright to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking,

I saw that you cared,

and I wanted to be everything that I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking,

I looked....

and I wanted to say thanks for all the things 

I saw when you thought I wasn't looking. 

Different Drummers

I came across this excerpt from David Keirsey's book, Please Understand Me II, in an old email today and thought I would share it with you. 

These words resonate pretty strongly with me at the moment as I try to understand the beat of another's drummer and they similarly try to understand the beat of mine. It can get pretty hairy sometimes because we can both be stubborn, but there are lessons in the words below that I will endeavor to take to heart in my less stubborn moments. 

Different Drummers

If I do not want what you want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong.
Or if I believe other than you, at least pause before you correct my view.
Or if my emotion is less than yours, or more, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel more strongly or weakly.

Or yet if I act, or fail to act, in the manner of your design for action, let me be.
I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me. That will come only when you are willing to give up changing me into a copy of you.


I may be your spouse, your parent, your offspring, your friend, or your colleague. If you will allow me any of my own wants, or emotions, or beliefs, or actions, then you open yourself, so that some day these ways of mine might not seem so wrong, and might finally appear to you as right -- for me. To put up with me is the first step to understanding me. Not that you embrace my ways as right for you, but that you are no longer irritated or disappointed with me for my seeming waywardness. And in understanding me you might come to prize my differences from you, and, far from seeking to change me, preserve and even nurture those differences.


Amen.

Book Review: To Bless the Space Between Us

Just finished this lovely book of poetry, To Bless the Space Between Us, by the late John O'Donohue. I first came across his poetry a few years ago and I have loved his work ever since. 

The book is divided into major life categories with poems within each chapter that cover pretty much anything you can think of.

Chapter 1: Beginnings

Chapter 2: Desires

Chapter 3: Thresholds

Chapter 4: Homecomings

Chapter 5: States of Heart

Chapter 6: Callings

Chapter 7: Beyond Endings

While I liked almost all of the poems (some I just could not make heads or tails out of at this point in time), some of the ones that spoke the most to me were A Morning Offering, For A New Beginning, For A New Home, For Freedom, A Blessing of Angels, For Longing, For the Traveler, For A Mother-To-Be, For a Friend on the Arrival of Illness, For a Parent on the Death of a Child, To Come Home to Yourself, Before Sleep, For Courage, For An Exile, For Solitude, For Grief, For the Interim Time, For One Who is Exhausted, For A Nurse, For the Time of Necessary Decision, For Citizenship, For a Leader, On the Death of the Beloved, and For the Dying.

O'Donohue's poetry touches my soul on a personal level. I would have loved to have known him in person, but the perception I have of him through his poetry is that he seems to have been a very intuitive and kind man who sought to give everyone who crossed his path kind words and comfort on the journey of life. Definitely a must-read for any of his fans. Be sure to check him out on YouTube, too!


All opinions are my own. I am not receiving compensation for this review.

When Death Comes

When Death Comes

by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

For Courage

For some friends and for myself on occasion when life seems so very dark. I hope you will find comfort in these words by the late John O'Donohue.

******************************

For Courage

When the light around you lessens

And your thoughts darken until

Your body feels fear turn

Cold as a stone inside,

When you find yourself bereft

Of any belief in yourself

And all you unknowingly

Leaned on has fallen,

When one voice commands

Your whole heart, 

And it is raven dark,

Steady yourself and see

That it is your own thinking

That darkens your world,

Search and you will find

A diamond-thought of light,

Know that you are not alone

And that this darkness has purpose;

Gradually it will school your eyes

To find the one gift your life requires

Hidden within this night-corner.

Invoke the learning

Of every suffering

You have suffered.

Close your eyes.

Gather all the kindling

About your heart

To create one spark.

That is all you need

To nourish the flame

That will cleanse the dark

Of its weight of festered fear.

A new confidence will come alive

To urge you toward higher ground

Where your imagination

Will learn to engage difficulty

As its most rewarding threshold!

The Journey of Life

Here is another lovely poem by Terah Cox. Hope you enjoy it!

Measure of a Man

Found this lovely poem by Terah Cox that I thought you might enjoy.

For a New Beginning

The poetry fest continues! This is a poem by another of my favorite poets, John O'Donohue. Enjoy!

For a New Beginning

by John O’Donohue

In out-of-the-way places of the heart,

Where your thoughts never think to wander,

This beginning has been quietly forming,

Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire,

Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,

Noticing how you willed yourself on,

Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety

And the gray promises that sameness whispered,

Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent,

Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,

And out you stepped onto new ground,

Your eyes young again with energy and dream,

A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear

You can trust the promise of this opening;

Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning

That is at one with your life's desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure;

Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;

Soon you will be home in a new rhythm,

For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

From the book, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

The Journey

Next up, a fabulous poem by Mary Oliver about finding yourself, your own voice, your own song, in spite of all of the well-meaning advice from those around you, who might wish to keep you small "for your own good" and for their comfort, (even if they don't even realize it.) It's a journey you choose to embark upon because you simply have to. Because you'll never know who you really are and what you can do until you make this journey.

The Journey

by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

The Cookie Thief

Today I thought I'd share one of my favorite poems. I first heard it on a Wayne Dyer recording and thought it was brilliant. It speaks to certainty, and how maybe we don't really have all the facts or see things as they really are and act anyway. I've certainly done it in the past, and this poem is a good reminder for me to stop and try to consider other possibilities before acting. Hope you enjoy it!

The Cookie Thief

By Valerie Cox

A woman was waiting at an airport one night
With several long hours before her flight
She hunted for a book in the airport shop
Bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop

She was engrossed in her book but happened to see
That the man beside her as bold as could be
Grabbed a cookie or two from the bag between
Which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene

She munched cookies and watched the clock
As this gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by
Thinking, "If I wasn't so nice I'd blacken his eye!"

With each cookie she took he took one, too
And when only one was left she wondered what he'd do
With a smile on his face and a nervous laugh
He took the last cookie and broke it in half

He offered her half as he ate the other
She snatched it from him and thought, "Oh brother!
This guy has some nerve and he's also rude
Why, he didn't even show any gratitude!"

She had never known when she had been so galled
And sighed with relief when her flight was called
She gathered her belongings and headed for the gate
Refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate

She boarded the plane and sank in her seat
Then sought her book which was almost complete
As she reached in her baggage she gasped with surprise
There was her bag of cookies in front of her eyes

"If mine are here" she moaned with despair,
"Then the others were his and he tried to share"
Too late to apologize she realized with grief
That she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.

 



The Touch of the Master's Hand

I came across this lovely poem by Myra Brooks Welch yesterday for the first time in years. Hope you enjoy it!

Photo found at http://www.mystudios.com/manet/1860/musician/violin.html

 The Touch of the Master's Hand

 "Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who'll make it two
Two dollars, and who'll make it three? 

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
And going - and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand -
What changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the masters hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on,
He's going once, and going twice -
He's going - and almost gone!
But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the MASTER'S hand.

~Myra B. Welch

Desiderata

I received this in an email recently and thought it very appropriate for this time of year, or anytime, actually. Please enjoy these very wise words from Max Ehrmann.

Desirderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let not this blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

~ Max Ehrmann

Increments

Increments
by Me

It started so small, so innocuously.

There was something I wanted badly,

And I knew it was bad for me.

For days I struggled to decide whether I should pursue it.

What would I have to give up in order to have this?

I would have to sacrifice something dear to me.

But I really wanted it.

Could taste it.

And it wouldn't be around forever.

It was fickle, and fleeting,

And could be gone before my next thought.

The thought of not having it was too much to bear,

So I caved and accepted what I told myself was a very small sacrifice.

I could live with it this one time.

But, as is often the case with things like this,

Once was not enough.

I gave in again, telling myself that twice wouldn't hurt me,

But it did.

There were no immediate repurcussions from my choices,

So of course I did it again, and again, and again.

Just a little white lie here,

And a small compromise of my beliefs there...

Those were nothing, I told myself,

In comparison to the immediate gratification that I had become addicted to.

A part of me still knew that I was wrong

And wanted to turn back before it was too late.

But a childish heart wants what it wants when it wants it,

And the tantrums of the flesh are often more than a match for the wisdom of the soul.

And so the soul is beaten into submission once again

Until at last one day in the future,

I look into the mirror and don't know who I am anymore.