Sunday, February 23, 2020

Yesterday morning, we participated in an inspiring discussion at the Quaker meeting house on the topic of discernment and truth. I found the thoughts shared to be fresh and uplifting. As the minutes passed, I felt more and more lucky to be there. We were just a small group of modest folk, but I found the words shared in that small room to be abundant with clear-sightedness. I felt wisdom shining in its straightforward, special way. I’ll bet that quiet basement room has seen that kind of simple wisdom countless times since it was built in the 1800’s.

The Westerly Quaker Meeting House

On any given day, my thoughts are usually as gossamer and scattered as the dusting of snow across Mystic some winter mornings, and that’s exactly what I love most about them. I feel fortunate that my thoughts are, in a way, as insubstantial as the snowflakes that float down on us some mornings. Even worrisome thoughts seem to harmlessly scatter through my mind like ramshackle ghosts, and, if I let them, they disappear just as easily as do most wispy sheets of morning snow. When I step back and simply observe my thoughts, I see that they are actually flimsy specks that fling themselves around in fairly disorderly ways. It’s like they’re having fun, these sometimes bothersome but always free-spirited thoughts that dance around inside me, and I often have fun observing them in their escapades. Like snowflakes, even the most fearful thoughts sooner or later – if I let them – settle to a stop, sometimes on a computer screen in curious rows called sentences.

Below is a magnetic poem in a form called ‘cinquain’: 5 lines, with 2,4,6,8, and 2 syllables – done in response to grandson Louie’s brilliant cinquain, which is below it.

And here is Louie’s cinquain:

Sea shore 

Water flowing

Blue waves are crashing through 

Surfer glides through air like frisbee 

Listen

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