A PSALM OF LIFE – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

        In the bivouac of Life, 
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 
        Be a hero in the strife !

    Lives of great men all remind us 
        We can make our lives sublime, 
    And, departing, leave behind us 
        Footprints on the sands of time ;

    Let us, then, be up and doing, 

        With a heart for any fate ; 
    Still achieving, still pursuing, 
        Learn to labor and to wait.


Shoulders by Naomi Shihab Nye

A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.
No car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,

His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream
deep inside him.

We’re not going to be able
to live in this world
if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
with one another.

The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.

Starting Again

It’s amazing to think back and know that I started to write my page, a journal, sometimes in 1987. Other people, writers, born then have grown up and are now published authors. I believe, in my case the story of the hare and the tortoise is gonna fructify. And I know I’m no hare. (It’s always good to strike a winning note)

Anyway, I must say what prompted me to scribble (sic) again. I chanced upon a blog online and for two days I’m hooked. I won’t reveal the source for I have some pretty good reasons and plagiarism is not one of them. Yes, I was saying, I am hooked. I read the writers since she (ok, this much I can reveal) started blogging in 2005. Although she wrote off and on, she had some great insights on thoughts and characters- some which surprised me – the fact that she was just 19 then.

What I learn from her is detachment in the process of living, observing, writing. She enjoys yet she keeps a distance. She stores the moments with emotions, thoughts and context and then compares when those context change. This is something which I have not been able to successfully distinguish even though I can appreciate it in her. You can see I’m struggling to get my words correctly.

This detachment, distinctions, this handling of things modularly is a stuff to go after. I’m more sold to the methodology of thought than the thought itself. But differentiation is not my strong point.
As for me, I go absolutely into the moment then come out scathed. The worse part is I find myself empty handed. Then, as if I am sitting in the bar, I call – repeat!