 |
| SNOW walk |
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said
"Speak to us of children"
Your children are not your childrenThey are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itselfThey come through you but not from youAnd though they are with you yet they belong not to you
You may give them your love but not your thoughtsFor they have their own thoughtsYou may house their bodies but not their soulsFor their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreamsYou may strive to be like themBut seek not to make them like youFor life goes not backward, nor tarries with yesterday
You are the bows from which your childrenAs living arrows are sent forthThe archer sees the mark upon the path of the infiniteAnd he bends you with his might
That his arrows may go swift and farLet your bending in the archer's hand be for gladnessFor even as he loves the arrow that fliesSo he loves also the bow that is stable
- Kahlil Gibran
CLARITY dawns on a 2-hour snow walk with Berniedoodle in the shimmering frigidity of Jack Frost’s first hello. PRIORITIZING then follows when we return to our hectic family homes with a peek of that new found peace and a slightly slower pace.
The infuriation remains - “I hate latkes ! I want steak ! I hate my homework ! Why does Patrick get so many pillows ? I hate toothpaste. I want more toothpaste !” - but is received with humor. The next morning is equal parts torture - “I wish this jacket was THAT color with THIS pattern ! How should I know which gloves fit me ? There was breakfast ? Biscuits and bacon ? Why didn’t you tell me !!?? What do you mean it’s time to go ???” And so we must SNOW WALK again the following day.
No comments:
Post a Comment