Blog Your Blessings: Right Here, Right Now

This week's blessing is this very moment, and every very moment that preceded it time and time again. I think I first learned this lesson years ago when I worked part-time as a waitress. Though everyone is hungry at once and wants everything served at once and wants to be the center of the universe at once, a waitress can be in one place at one time doing one thing at a time. Learning that one meant being able to do more things and to do them more efficiently than I could have if I had been pulled apart by the demanding eyes of all those hungry people.

When my daughter was born ten years ago Wednesday, I relearned that lesson. From the moment she landed all warm and wet on my belly and hungry and noisy, she was the only project on hand at any given moment until started working again. Dust settled. Laundry accumulated. Chores piled up. But nobody died or suffered as a result. And the time to address those needs presented itself in such away that I am not typing from under a ten-year accumulation of dust and debris.

Having returned to full-time work, I find myself living this lesson every day. Nothing is more important than the person right in front of me. Nothing. When they go away, the next person is the most important person. And on and on. This is a beautiful thing. It makes even the atrocious moment and those people who resist being liked at all costs somehow essential and beautiful (though sometimes more so in retrospect).

This is a lesson that makes it possible for me to step away from everything and read the Tao and attend a Buddhist teacher's meditations on the lessons of that text and to take it in and let it make the most of me one moment at a time. In a way, this means my daughter's milestone birthday; its celebration; and my private, personal, and very happy thoughts about her life are every bit the blessing to me that the worst nightmare of a child is in my toughest class. That is true. The difference: my daughter is my daughter, for all that can mean to a mom.

It's all true. It's all good. Thank you for being here. You're all that matters, and you are beautiful.


Blog Your Blessings

Skywatch Friday: Art Imitates Nature

Skywatch Friday

Thursday Thirteen: Verse 22 of the Tao

Verse 22 of the Tao tells us: "The ancients said, 'Accept and you become whole,
Once whole, the world is as your home.'"

Which is wonderful if you can get it. I feel at the moment that I want to get it-- especially at work, where some difficult kids who don't want to learn don't want anyone around them to learn, either. Some days they wear me out; our interactions become conflicts between "I Want You to Learn" and "I Don't Care so Leave Me Alone"--"Life Is Beautiful" versus "Go away, Miss."

So I've decided to face every day with a genuine smile even when doing so requires more imagination that I think I can muster. I have decided to insist on joy. Here are 13 lines from this verse that leads me to the conclusion there is no other way to live well:

Accept and you become whole,
Bend and you straighten
Empty and you fill,
Decay and you renew,
Want and you acquire,
Fulfill and you become confused.

The sage accepts the world
As the world accepts the Way;
He does not display himself, so is clearly seen,
Does not justify himself, so is recognized,
Does not boast, so is credited,
Does not pride himself, so endures,
Does not contend, so none contend against him.


Thursday Thirteen

My World Tuesday: Stained Glass at St. John's

This photo captures detail in a stained glass window at St. John's Episcopal Church in Waterbury, Connecticut. The window itself is a gigantic eagle flying over the Connecticut hills, and this small cityscape in the corner captures the church (far left, along with the Mattatuck Museum and a few other Brass City landmarks. St. John's is one of the oldest Episcopal parishes in New England and contains some very beautiful stained glass and other works of ecclesiastical art. It's a beautiful place committed as much to the needs of the people in the community as to celebrating the beauty and wonder of the world, all in the name of God.

My World Tuesday

Weekend Snapshot: Blessed Peace

Weekend Snapshot

One Single Impression: Gift

My mother gave me a gift
In passing
One day long ago:

Don't ask people questions,
she said;
People will tell you what
They want you to know.

What they want you to know
They want you to know what

They want you to know

So I don't ask questions.
I let the stories find me.

Stories? Yes.
They are people

Always people who don't much bother
With the where and the when
And often not very much even with the who

They start with the what--
What happened
What happened to them
What they made happen

But they don't stay there very long

Always they are interested
In the why of the thing

And if these stories are my friends
We look for it together,
Always and forever
And without ever asking

Seeking to know why.

One Single Impression

Blog Your Blessings: Friends who Listen

This week's blessing: Friends who listen, even when they're tired, too.

Blog Your Blessings

Skywatch Friday: The Apple Boughs for No Man

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Skywatch Friday

Thursday Thirteen: Word is the Word

An eighth-grade girl counts off the languages of which she has some knowledge: "I speak English, Spanish, French, Italian..."
Her boyfriend smiles and looks up from the desk where he rests his head. "Yeah?"
"You know it!"
He is not finished: "Yeah? You speak Ghetto?"
She isn't finished, either: "I'm speaking to you, ain't I?"

Ghetto, the language of Over There. I am learning to understand the speak if not speak the speak, one word at a time. Today's word is Word. In the beginning was the Word. Much later, the Word was made flesh. And the word is forever. In the ghetto, as in the church, the word is everything:

1. Word: "Hello."
2. Word: "I agree."
3. Word: "I am favorably impressed."
4. Word: "Really?"
5. Word: "I am indifferent."
6. Word: "I approve."
7. Word: "Hell, yes."
8. Word: "Promise of Truth."
9. Word: "You can say that again."
10. Word: "You're not kidding."
11. Word: "Absolute Truth."
12. Word: "Word of God."
13. Word: "Yes."

Thank you, Urban Dictionary, for leading me out of the linguistic wilderness. Word up.

Thursday Thirteen

Wordless Wednesday: The Rhythm of Autumn

Wordless Wednesday

My World Tuesday: Angels in the Architecture

Here is Mary presiding over the Basilica of the Imamaculate Conception in Waterbury, Connecticut. I didn't realize until after I took the photo that she is pigeon-proof.

My World Tuesday

Weekend Snapshot: Where Have They Gone?

Weekend Snapshot

One Single Impression: Never Ending

What some call forever
I call Sunday afternoon
Two-thirty exactly
When the sun is still high
And there is no thought of night—
No thought even of the sapphire
Brightness of early dusk
That yields too soon to endless,
Silent pitch punctuated
By indifferent stars
And an overripe moon—
No thoughts of any of that
At that never ending moment
I call two-thirty, Sunday,
When nobody is hungry or tired
Or angry or sad or frightened
About anything.
It is all good.

I call it forever.
I dream Sunday
Into Monday
And beyond.

The dream is never-ending;
Too often I dream it alone.

One Single Impression

Blog Your Blessings: Yeah, That

Some days I go out for a walk and wonder about the good things. There are a million and there are none all at once. Nothing specific will come to mind, but I will feel a sense of general goodness that tells me it's all good. It's all special. Good is a state of being.

I think of stopping by my parents' with my daughter to visit on Columbus Day, of going for a walk with my camera and taking in the color while she showed my folks some new online game or other.

I think of bringing the guinea pig down to keep me company while I'm making dinner. He taste tests the salad like only a true and loyal friend could.

I think of pleasant conversations with good, old friends who know the score and who care about me as much as I do about them. How what we do and how and why are relevant hearthside as well as in the anonymous outside world.

I think of the kids who go out of their way to say hello or to share their deeply private love poems or to ask me how long germs can stay alive in your mouth (and so was it a good idea to kiss so-and-so because, well, he is kind of gross....), or to ask me if I have any kids because they say they think I'm (it's hard to believe) cool and therefore must have at least one kid.

I think of the parents of the kids I teach and how they care enough about their kids to talk to me about their progress.

I think of the brilliant autumn light and the gorgeous colors and the cool nights and the full moon dropping in the belly of night like a baby about to be born, how good it feels to sleep and then to wake up in the same dark and call the day my own for a little while. Then to say hello to the first neighbor walking the first dog in the first light of day.

Round and round it goes, even when on those days that feel like a difficult upward climb. And it is all a blessing.

Blog Your Blessings

Skywatch Friday: Brooklyn Bridge

Skywatch Friday

Thursday Thirteen: Autumn dba 'The Fall'

1. I like autumn, which is currently doing business as The Fall

2. Because everything does. Always the atmosphere is animated with color.

3. This most vibrant and beautiful time of dying is full of sound, too.

4. There is no silence. Anywhere.

5. And there is more light. It gets through everywhere and touches everything.

6. That warmth and light ignite the secret incense of autumn,

7. And the air is filled with the fragrance of leaves and wood and earth.

8. At night the moon is visible--in fact, it is touchable

9. As it rests in the cradle of bare branches at the tops of trees.

10. The moon surrenders to the trees; the trees, to the cold; the cold, to

11. Small fires and the warm breath of living things

12. That continue their steady march to winter

13. Through leaves that (like I said) will have the final word.

Thursday Thirteen

Wordless Wednesday: Gritty Graffiti in Brooklyn

Wordless Wednesday

Weekend Snapshot: Geometry Lessons in Brooklyn

Weekend Snapshot

One Single Impression: Gold

We embrace,
The light and I,
At dawn
And at sunset

But not in between

Never at noon
When the sun is high
And everywhere
Over and around
All at once
And nowhere

I forget about it then
Though I am breathing it
Tasting it
Bathing in it

Thus I forget
My best love

Forget again and again and again

We are strangers at midday,
So familiar are we

Despite the intense light and heat.

On the edge of dark,
Though,
We are reacquainted

And we are close.

One Single Impression

Blog Your Blessings: 'Everybody Sit Down!'

Part of the challenge of teaching, like the challenge of parenting, is waiting to see the results and accepting that I may never see the results. I have to live in the hope that I am getting something right and that the right something is landing in the minds and hearts of the kids in my classes. (I have the same hope for my daughter on a much deeper, personal level.)

This week's blessing came from Mark on Monday. He gave me a pretty clear indication something was working in his class. He's a sixth grade boy who couldn't read for beans six weeks ago and often refused to read aloud in class for that reason. He'd come in nervous and agitated and fiddle and fidget with whatever he had. When the music teacher issued him drumsticks, I thought my game was up.

Then Monday came. I handed the kids copies of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz that I had bought because that's what they said they wanted to read. They were thrilled to hold new books. They were even careful not to crease the covers so they could keep them new.

Once we got inside, though, there was no stopping them. They took turns reading and even reread when they felt their first time through was short on inflection. We did not get through the first chapter in 45 minutes for this reason. When the bell rang at the end of the class, most of the kids stood up immediately. But then Mark bellowed, "Everybody sit down!" He was not finished with the paragraph and he was not going to be interrupted by any bell. They sat down. He finished. End of class.

Amen. And thank you L. Frank Baum for the magic that keeps these kids in their seats and keeps me going for another day.

Blog Your Blessings

Skywatch Friday: At Ease at Home

Skywatch Friday

Thursday Thirteen 54: I Will not Try to Change You

This one is for my students.

1. I will not try to change you, child--
2. Not in any way.
3. I accept that you are perfect
4. As you are,
5. Complete and whole.
6. Child, you are my teacher.
7. You teach me patience,
8. Humility, compassion, justice.
9. You don't bend; I don't yield.
10. In the space between us,
11. Lessons unfold.
12. I reach way over the edge
13. For you, and I learn.

Believe me, child, I learn.

Thursday Thirteen

Wordless Wednesday: Images on a Bank in Waterbury

Wordless Wednesday

Weekend Snapshot: The Brass Horse

One Single Impression: Serendipity

Walking out from home
One tired August day,
I sought the musk of summer:
Overblown roses, dripping pines,
Cedar, fir, and still water....
I knew what I wanted.

Instead I climbed up a trellis
Of wild grapes,
The aroma of which
Held the promise of new wine
In the cool early evening of autumn
And a smoldering fire....

And I was tantalized.

One Single Impression

The Defeat of Habit

Creativity can solve almost any problem. The creative act, the defeat of habit by originality, overcomes everything. (George Lois)

Blog Your Blessings: 'Elements of Style'

I could hear myself sounding like I was in love with these men. I urged them to read their book, to follow their style, to trust everything they wrote. To believe they could change their lives forever by teaching them to write well.

I went on and on.

About E.B. White and the tiny masterpiece that bears his name alongside William Strunk's.

I was daring the kids I tutor for the SATs to get a copy of Elements of Style and trust it like they could never trust a living English teacher to teach them the basic rules of grammar, usage, style.

Strunk wrote the thing in 1919 to create a basic style sheet from which his students at Cornell University could learn to write clearly and therefore effectively. In 1957, White prepared this little book for publication by MacMillan. In his introduction, White lists the contents: "Seven rules of usage, eleven principles of composition, a few matters of form, and a list of words and expressions commonly misused--that was the sum and substance of Professor Strunk's work. Somewhat audaciously,...I added a chapter called 'An Approach to Style,' setting forth my own prejudices, my notions of error, my articles of faith [for those who] feel that English prose composition is not only a necessary skill but a sensible pursuit as well--a way to spend one's days."

Simple, short, sweet--and so unlike those dreadfully heavy books full of rules, exceptions, examples, exercises that boggle the mind until it feels hopeless.

I got away with this homily on usage on Thursday because I had endured a gruelling hour and a half of my students' grilling me on the various laws of grammar as we waded through the dreary practice SAT questions. To endure this inquisition, I kept my eye on the prize: the beauty and grace--call it power--of our best thoughts distilled into the finest words in the cleanest sentences we can imagine. It's about finding your best self and being that person.

Talk of Elements always brings me back to my sophomore year of high school, when Mr. Charles Phelps would hand out these little paperback books so that we could copy the rules into our notes and then practice them until we mastered them. Like the book, he made it manageable and easy, and this fact set him apart from all the confusing old ladies and their exquisite script and all their arrows, circles, and underlines that left me in a fit of despair on a daily basis in the years up to Mr. Phelps.

Mr. Phelps cracked the code for me at a critical time for me. My sophomore year was also the worst year of my life. That was the year my beloved grandmother succumbed to cancer after a painful struggle with the disease. I remember feeling my sorrow very deeply as she lay in her hospital bed. To alleviate my grief, I tried to write an essay to my gram. I did not. I finished the thing and then wrote "Dear Gram" at the top. My parents read it to her in her hospital bed. On the last occasion I saw that wonderful lady, she told me it was the most beautiful letter she had ever received.

Since that moment so many years ago, I have contemplated the difference between writing for oneself and writing for an audience, even an audience of one. There must always be someone else for whom we write. I believe it. If we don't have that person, we must find him or her. And we must say it the best way we can. We must. Read the book.

It all comes down to subject, verb, object: I love you.

Thank you Messrs. Strunk, White, and Phelps.

Blog Your Blessings

Skywatch Friday: A Good Morning

Skywatch Friday

Thursday Thirteen 53: Why I Love Halloween

My daughter's birthday at the end of this month heralds the season of crinkling wrapping paper that doesn't end until the first blissfully silent fall of snow in January. One birthday seems to follow another after a holiday until all of this comes to a halt on Christmas and the following week of, "I can't believe I forgot to...."

By the time it's over, I remember why I so much love Halloween:

1. Everybody is included in a party
2. I which the pure spirit of play permeates everything.
3. Costumes reflect the wildest dreams of the children wearing them,
4. As they receive the wonderful gift of every kind of candy
5. And people invite them into their bright and warm homes
6. So they can pick their favorite treats.
7. Kids are at the center of everything,
8. And their pleasure in receiving bits of candy
9. Reminds us it doesn't take much to be happy, to feel good.
10. Everyone laughs.

11. Halloween is a feast of the imagination,
12. So there is no reason or need to opt out of the fun.

Best of all,

13. Being outside with everyone else in the world under the stars and in the dark reminds us the spirit of the world is vast, mysterious, and wonderful--and nobody is left out.


Thursday Thirteen