Remind Us How To Be Brave:
I discovered these beautiful words to remind us how to be brave on A First Sip. After this week, the uprising in hate group empowerment, the reactions of our president, and the murder of an innocent woman, many of us are struggling with how to be brave. What does it mean to stand up, to use our voice? How do we speak out against the unspeakable? How do we go back to school, to classrooms, next week and use our position to help kids understand and process and learn to love?
I struggle, as do so many, with the answers to these questions. I wrote about my initial reaction to the hate in Charlottesville here. I hope this poetry and my words not only remind us how to be brave but helps us ACT out our bravery.
One of my most often used reminders in my classroom is that stepping out of our comfort zone is where the magic happens. As an introvert, I find this practice exhausting. I know I need to push myself and others forward, to remind myself of the need for solitude, and to gather momentum from taking risks and being adventurous. That’s one reason I travel to Nicaragua, one reason I write, and one reason I think amazing things happen in my classroom.
But at the end of the day, I’m weary. I’m spent and retreat into solace. I release the demands into the soil of my garden or the sauces simmering on my stove. I walk in meditation, stopping to notice the bloom beside me or the reflection on the water.
To remind us how to be brave, we must slip out of the world we know and into the world of quiet contemplation.
I hope you enjoy this peaceful poem by Rosemerry Trommer – and remember you have all the power you need right inside.
When her voice is weary
it means it is time to listen.
When her armor is heavy,
it means it is time to be soft,
time to slip out of her certainty
and her battle songs,
time to retreat from the lines
she has drawn, time to unknow
the world she thinks she knows
and to find herself in the world
that knows her. She lets the darkness
penetrate her, it caresses
her universal curves. Her quiet
joins her to an infinite quiet—
she is everything, nothing at once.
She relearns how vulnerability
transforms us in ways
ferocity can not.
She is her own fertile seed.
She is her own desert rain.
She’s her own cocoon, her own inner cave.
Sometimes it takes the darkness
to remind us how to be brave.
~ Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Words are the spark that ignites my soul. I am a collector of language in all forms, believing the extraordinary beauty of the written word must be shared.
These monthly posts, inspired by another’s words, are my gifts of beauty and spirit, shared with love.
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