Giving Poem by Emily Dickinson If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain..
It is blue-butterfly day here in spring, And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry There is more unmixed color on the wing Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry. But these are flowers that fly and all but sing: And now from having ridden out desire They lie closed over in the wind and cling Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
To Waken An Old Lady By William Carlos Williams Old age is A flight of small Cheeping birds Skimming Bare trees Above a snow glaze. Gaining and failing They are buffeted By a dark wind— But what? On harsh weedstalks The flock has rested, The snow Is covered with broken Seedhusks And the wind tempered By a shrill Piping of plenty.
Snow By Vladimir Nabokov Oh, that sound! Across snow – creak, creak, creak: somebody walking in long boots of felt. Stout, spirally twisted ice, sharp points inverted, hangs from the eaves. The snow is crumpy and shiny. (Oh, that sound!) My hand sled behind me, far from dragging, seems to run by itself: it knocks at my heels. I settle upon it and coast down the steep, down the smooth: felt boots straddled, I hold on to the string. Whenever I’m falling asleep, I cannot help think: Maybe you will find a moment to visit me, my warmly muffled up, clumsy childhood.
Two Kinds of Intelligence by Rumi There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired, as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts from books and from what the teacher says, collecting information from the traditional sciences as well as from the new sciences. With such intelligence you rise in the world. You get ranked ahead or behind others in regard to your competence in retaining information. You stroll with this intelligence in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more marks on your preserving tablets. There is another kind of tablet, one already completed and preserved inside you. A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness in the center of the chest. This other intelligence does not turn yellow or stagnate. It’s fluid, and it doesn’t move from outside to inside through conduits of plumbing-learning. This second knowing is a fountainhead from within you, moving out.
Woodpile By Rufus Collinson I love this woodpile, the construction of beauty within the ordinary task. Huddle of concentrics, the good years and the lean, sorrows and delights, the power of containment, flicker of possibility, ember flame and hearth, rooms redolent with memory, the lovelight in your eyes. “Every man looks at his woodpile with a kind of affection.” -Thoreau
Vacillation (Part II) by William Butler Yeats A tree there is that from its topmost bough Is half all glittering flame and half all green Abounding foliage moistened with the dew; What a primal October vision! “A tree there is that from its topmost bough is half all glittering flame and half all green.” This moment of equilibrium, of fiery maple leaves framed in green still vibrant on the tree, can cut through our daily fog of worries and hopes with a singular beam of beauty. And what if we’re the tree? And half is half and yet is all the scene; Separation is an illusion. 99.9% of all human DNA is the same. We can look and see halves, divisions. Or we can see the halves as making the whole. The yin and the yang together. Here’s a mundane example: Yankees fans, Red Sox fans. What if they realized that they complete each other? Where would they be without the other? And half and half consume what they renew, Winter consumes summer which consumes winter which consumes summer which consumes winter which….. And he that Attis’ image hangs between I wasn’t familiar with Attis before reading this poem. He’s a Greek/Phrygian god that represents the fruits of the earth that die in the winter to be reborn in the spring. He’s a ‘vegetation deity’ (I love that!) that embodies the growth cycle of plants. That staring fury and the blind lush leaf Staring fury = winter. The blind lush leaf = summer. We each carry our own versions of winter and summer with us. May know not what he knows, but knows not grief. This to me is the ultimate knowing, the place I would live forever more if I had a choice. Not knowing what I know, epiphany so deep that it transcends labeling. And living exclusively in grief is impossible. The full acceptance of the halves, what is wanted and desired and what is feared, the calm welcoming of it all into completion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lastly, since I’m focused on where spirit and technique meet, I’d be remiss not to point out one technical joy – the beautiful ABABABCC rhyme scheme Yeats uses. It’s easiest to see this by looking at the poem all together. It’ll help to give ‘bough’, the last word of the first line, your finest ye-olde-Irish lilt. Vacillation (Part II) by William Butler Yeats A tree there is that from its topmost bough Is half all glittering flame and half all green Abounding foliage moistened with the dew; And half is half and yet is all the scene; And half and half consume what they renew, And he that Attis’ image hangs between That staring fury and the blind lush leaf May know not what he knows, but knows not grief.
Vacillation (Part II) by William Butler Yeats A tree there is that from its topmost bough Is half all glittering flame and half all green Abounding foliage moistened with the dew; And half is half and yet is all the scene; And half and half consume what they renew, And he that Attis’ image hangs between That staring fury and the blind lush leaf May know not what he knows, but knows not grief.
The Sunrise Ruby [Fragment] by Rumi Work. Keep digging your well. Don’t think about getting off from work. Water is there somewhere. Submit to a daily practice. Your loyalty to that is a ring on the door. Keep knocking, and the joy inside will eventually open a window and look out to see who’s there. Explore this idea more fully in Quixote Consulting’s team building and team development activities: 40 Days to Change For Good – Don’t just manage change, lead it. Create a successful forty-day blueprint to lead a change that lasts.
There’s A Morning by Rumi There’s a morning when presence comes over your soul. You sing like a rooster in your earth-colored shape. Your heart hears, and, no longer frantic, begins to dance. At that moment, soul reaches total emptiness….
