Showing posts with label maturity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maturity. Show all posts

Sunday, June 12, 2022

Commencement Day 2022

 


For Max and Hazel, and all the grads of 2022


You may not remember the first step you ever took,

but look, here you are, stepping off the dais,

as newly minted today, as you were then.


For years—too many, it seems—you’ve been told:

Line Up,

Move forward,

Look Up,

Look Down,

And STOP!


The world, now, is your oyster, as they say,

but they never tell you what this means:

The world is your classroom perpetual and teacher,

and every day brings a new challenge 

that writes a new lesson

for you to be tested on,

culminating in the greatest

of all questions:

“How do I make a difference

while I’ve got the day-to-day grind on my mind?”


This is the question for the ages;

All the great sages and philosophers have pondered the issue,

and here is what they said (abridged):


Line Up: Conform to goodness in everything.

Move Forward: Challenges are not intended to thwart your trajectory.

Look Up: Nothing in the vast universe is beneath your notice.

Look Down on nothing and no one; 

atoms—as people—differ in constituency, 

but coexist together in the same metaphenomenon;

honor that truth by learning to be together

in cooperation with all that is.

Stop at nothing achieve your goals, even as they shift.


Be yourself, accept yourself, even as you change and grow;

you hardly know it, but you’re already a techie,

  inventing and reinventing yourself,

inside and out, in every moment.


When you accept all others as equals,

this is where all dialogue begins,

and today is where the seeds are planted

for the gardens of tomorrow;

All that is left to do, then, is tend them, wisely,

today and tomorrow—always.



© 2022 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen and songsofasouljourney.blogspot.com

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Meetings


Paper worn,
sheets so old
there's no rustle left in them,
more like felt under her fingers,
or softer yet,
like the worn cheek
of a beloved old friend.

Settling the pages,
making them comfortable,
she arranged herself,
just close enough
to see the signs and symbols,
and on them meditate.
Cradling the instrument
within her warm embrace,
she took a long, deep breath,
filling her being with its sweetness.

Fixing her gaze
on those worn pages—
old friends, revisited often;
“the rules of engagement,”
she had once heard;
an apt description,
the thought occurred
—she drew the bow,
forward over the strings.

Then, she leaned back,
closed her eyes,
and let the bow find the strings,
the way that they would do,
just now.

Inner ear to mind,
mind to thought,
idea to quill,
quill to manuscript,
symbols dot paper,
shapes greet the eye,
horsehair strokes steel,
steel vibrates wood,
wood sings,
space hums,
body rejoices,
soul soars.

The sum
of all these meetings
is God’s voice,
heard as music.

© 2010 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen