Monthly Archives: May 2013

Whatever else you do . . .

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Whatever else you do or forbear,
impose upon yourself the task of happiness;
and now and then abandon yourself
to the joy of laughter.
And however much you condemn the evil in the world,
remember that the world is not all evil;
that somewhere children are at play,
as you yourself in the old days;
that women still find joy in the stalwart hearts of men;
And that men, treading with restless feet their many paths,
may yet find refuge from the storms of the world
in the cheerful house of love.

Max Ehrmann

What life pays . . .

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I bargained with Life for a penny,
And Life would pay no more,
However I begged at evening.
When I counted my scanty store.
For Life is a just employer,
He gives you what you ask,
But once you have set the wages,
Why, you must bear the task.
I worked for a menial’s hire,
Only to learn, dismayed,
That any wage I had asked of Life,
Life would have willingly paid.”

Jessie B. Rittenhouse

Consider this: What are you asking of life?

Life . . . and its challenges

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When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny.

— Paulo Coelho

The Invitation . . .

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The Invitation
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Canadian Teacher and Author

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 own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled 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
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 soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know 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
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or 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.


Consider this: What do you want to know?

If I was a work of art . . .

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If I was a work of art

May 14, 2013

If I was a work of art
I would be a picture of the wind
blowing fast.
The wind, sort of light blue,
really hard and strong.
I would be blowing away
from hatred,
blowing toward love.
When people see the picture
they would know
I was going the right direction
instead of the wrong one.

Anthony Manago
3rd Grade

Thorndyke Elementary After School Program
Writes of Passage Poetry Class with Vicky Edmonds
May 2003


You are invited to share this poem and the following questions with someone:

– If you were a work of art, what would you be?
– As with all poems, the words are so wise. How does knowing the poet was in 3rd grade affect you?
– What would your inner 9-year old say to you today?

The student 10 years later

Monday Morning Inspiration . . .

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Rock with Me

Rock with Me

Rocking With Me
Author Unknown

There was once an elderly, despondent woman in a nursing home. She wouldn’t speak to anyone or request anything. She merely existed – rocking in her creaky old rocking chair.

The old woman didn’t have many visitors. But every couple mornings, a concerned and wise young nurse would go into her room. She didn’t try to speak or ask questions of the old lady. She simply pulled up another rocking chair beside the old woman and rocked with her.

Weeks or months later, the old woman finally spoke.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for rocking with me.'”

Consider this: Who do you need to sit and rock with today?