Miracles
Walt Whitman Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place. To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, Every foot of the interior swarms with the same. To me the sea is a continual miracle, The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them, What stranger miracles are there? This poem is in the public domain.
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“It is always worth itemising happiness, there is so much of the other thing in a life, you had better put down the markers for happiness while you can.” ~Sebastian Barry, The Secret Scripture How to Recognize Grace
Marilyn Chandler McEntyre It takes you by surprise It comes in odd packages It sometimes looks like loss Or mistakes It acts like rain Or like a seed It’s both reliable and unpredictable It’s not what you were aiming at Or what you thought you deserved It supplies what you need Not necessarily what you want It grows you up And lets you be a child It reminds you you’re not in control And that not being in control is a form of freedom. Ash Wednesday
T. S. Eliot If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, un heard; Still is the unspoken workd, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; And the light shone in the darkness and Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the centre of the Silent Word. Let There Be Peace on Earth
Song by Vince Gill Let there be peace on earth And let it begin with me Let There Be Peace on Earth The peace that was meant to be With God as our Father Brothers all are we Let me walk with my brother In perfect harmony. Let peace begin with me Let this be the moment now. With ev'ry step I take Let this be my solemn vow To take each moment and live Each moment in peace eternally Let there be peace on earth And let it begin with me “Hurry,” by Marie Howe,
We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store and the gas station and the green market and Hurry up honey, I say, hurry, her blue jacket unzipped and her socks rolled down. Where do I want her to hurry to? To her grave? To mine? Where one day she might stand all grown? Today, when all the errands are finally done, I say to her, Honey I'm sorry I keep saying Hurry— you walk ahead of me. You be the mother. And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says, hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands. for Advent Two
“For it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself.” Charles Dickens "Small groups of humans turning off their phones and paying attention for half an hour in their local park is obviously not, in itself, the revolution that will bring the attention frackers to their knees. But it offers a model we can build on, of people coming together to decide (and dispute!) how the world is, and how we think it ought to be. That is the practice of freedom — the essence of democracy — and the high purpose of education itself."
~ D. Graham Burnett, Alyssa Loh and Peter Schmidt (Mr. Burnett, Ms. Loh and Mr. Schmidt are members of the Friends of Attention collective.) |
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A wee explanation: this website was created as a way to amplify the daily surprise of seeing glory in one small life. The notebook entries represented here are all selected from things actually lived and noted on paper in an effort to live the full life British educator Charlotte Mason so ably championed.
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