There Is No Controlling Life: Poetry by Donna Faulds

Last summer, my son and I made our third adventure to Nicaragua.

If I tried to tell you why I keep going back, I don’t know that I could.

It isn’t an easy trip, physically, emotionally, or mentally.

It isn’t a place many people travel as tourists or find their hearts pulling them towards – unless you’ve experienced the magic.

The first time I decided to go, back in 2010, I couldn’t explain the pull. I brought my children and traveled as part of a group of strangers. Everything about the experience was pushing me outside my comfort zone.

And when I came back, my life changed.

I discovered this poem that comes the closest to expressing the visceral pull I felt, and still feel, to travel to Nicaragua. Each trip I’ve wondered if it will be my last time gazing out into the green mountainsides, the final time walking the dusty roads. I wonder if I’ll ever wake under mosquito netting to the sound of roosters, church bells, and fireworks at midnight, or if I’ll ever again taste the sweetness of a freshly picked mango after hiking through a finca.

I know there is no controlling life, but boy, do I hope I find my way back again.

I share these words as a gift of beauty, tenderness, and hope amidst dark times in our world. May you always remember the extraordinary, ordinary moments of every magical day.

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt, containing a tornado.

Dam a stream and it will create a new channel.

Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet.
Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground.

The only safety lies in letting it all in –
the wild and the weak; fear, fantasies, failures, and success.

When loss rips off the doors of the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice becomes simply bearing the truth.

In the choice to let go of your known way of being, the whole world is revealed to your new eyes.

~ Donna Faulds

I found this tender poem on the website, A First Sip.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Remind Us How To Be Brave: Poetry From Rosemerry Trommer

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.

remind us to be brave church — Ciudad Dario, Nicaragua

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.

remind us to be brave garden quiet — A quiet moment in my garden.

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.

xoxo, Jennifer

Jennifer Wolfe

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We Should All See Things So Simply

We should all see things so simply…

the basics of bone

the sky unchanging blue

sandhills that endure

despite eroding thighs.

We should remember

these curving shapes

are what we are,

and move with similar precision

toward the light.

Leaves reaching through darkness

crack pale stones,

persist,

bear scented strength in secret

until blooming time.

Perhaps we should strive

for their courage

in those acts that need no guidance —

the flamboyant thrust of stamens

up and out of opening petals.

I love the beauty, the simplicity, and the message of this poem titled “Calla Lilies: For Georgia O’Keeffe”, by Jane Candia Coleman from her exquisite collection, “Poetry of the American West: No Roof But Sky”.
photo credit: Lilly via photopin (license)

Jennifer Wolfe

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Live A Life Of Amazement

When it’s over,
I want to say:
All my life I was a bride
Married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom,
Taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over,
I don’t want to wonder
If I have made my life
Something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself
Sighing and frightened,
Or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply
Having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver

I love, love, love Mary Oliver, and this poem – well, it is just perfect for right now. I don’t want to live my life wondering if I lived as a visitor in the world; I want to live a life of presence, of joy, of amazement.

Jennifer Wolfe

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There is no controlling life.

Remind Us How To Be Brave: