Life Lessons learnt...

I quoted this to someone the other day and then thought I would put it up here,  to share with everyone...

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS


by Portia Nelson


I

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I fall in.

I am lost ... I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I am in the same place

but, it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in ... it's a habit.

my eyes are open

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.


IV

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.


I love that final line... there is another street (of course it has it's own holes,  but some are easier to avoid than others...)

And speaking of holes in the street,  there is the most amazing chalk art out there!  Julian Beever is a new favorite!

treasures in storage

Had the most momentous month - new baby in the family, such a sweet, sweet angel. We spent too long in hospital with him, but now he is all better.

I also went through our stuff in storage, upset about how much junk there was, and then finding the occasional treasure.

I found this poem I had written when my son was not yet 2 and we were visiting Italy -

In a foreign country
Warm with Mediterranean sun
We seek the cool
of the local museum.

In a fine dusty building
With its impressive courtyard
We carry the pram
Up massive marble steps.

Not giving it much thought
We expected the baby to sleep,
Or failing that, watch the people go by.
But he found another use
For the large empty rooms
And high vaulted ceilings.

As we rushed by golden works of art
Nothing could stop his enchanted chirping
As he experiments with the echoing chambers.
All through the gallery,
His ‘singing’ could be heard.

As I nervously hushed him
One more time
An older woman stopped me,
‘Il contento’, she said, ‘he is happy.’
And we walked into the sunshine smiling.

So happy we have a new baby in our lives... just magic the gifts they give

Songs and poems

I realize I've been doing too many song lyrics, but really songs speak so much to me, they are the poetry I'm reading lately, current modern poetry not doing so much for me.

In passing conversation, gossiping about an acquaintance's divorce, I said, 'she's like the girl from the song, who realized at the age of 37 that she would never go to Paris and feel the wind in her hair.' Of course I couldn't remember the song at that moment, but I could remember the essential lyric and how years later, it still resonated. Even if you've been to Paris, and don't particularly like convertibles, you know what she means (for the curious, the song was The Ballad of Lucy Jordan, and the singer Marianne Faithful.)

And I've also been listening to Amy Winehouse's Back to Black. God that's a terrific cd. I really think its one of the years best, it's one of the best debut cd's I've ever heard. Makes me even sadder when I hear of her current crazed situation - not that she didn't describe it in detail in her music. It's like she wrote the script and now she's acting it out. The pain and knowledge and nuance in her voice, and she's all of 24, it's astonishing. I really hope we get to hear more from her...

And then we had homework poetry. My son (4th grade) had to read and analyse a poem. It was William Carlos Williams, The Red Wheelbarrow. Don't fret, here it is:

so much depends upon

a red wheel barrow

glazed with rainwater

beside the white chickens.


So my ten year old declared that he hated it and found it meaningless. I've never read WCW before, and after 10 careful minutes of consideration, I had to give in and google him, because, frankly, the poem didn't speak much to me either. Wikipedia had all sorts of information (as Wikipedia does)

But the link that gave us most joy, was to amazon, where we found this wonderful book - Love that Dog - where a 10 year old boy, who hates poetry because he thinks it's the sort of stuff that girls write, gives his own take on the poem:-

I don't understand
the poem about
the red wheelbarrow
and the white chickens
and why so much depends
on them.

If that is a poem
about red wheelbarrows
and white chickens
then any words can be a poem
You just
got to make
short lines.

Well, we laughed and laughed, it so agreed with his opinion and instantly ordered the book, and I'm so looking forward to reading it with him. It was just lovely to find someone else with his exact opinion, and I imagine the book goes on a bit more about it, but even if it doesn't, it sounds like it will be a lovely introduction to poetry for a 10 year old boy...