Ich bin, du Ängstlichen, Horst du mich nicht
I am, you Anxious one.
Don’t you sense me, ready to break
into being at your touch?
My mumurings surround you like shadowy wings.
Can’t you see me standing before you
cloaked in stillness?
Hasn’t my longing ripened in you
from the beginning
as fruit ripens on a branch?
I am the dream you are dreaming.
When you want to awaken, I am that wanting:
I grow strong in the beauty you behold.
And with the silence of stars I enfold
your cities made by time.
— Rilke’s Book of Hours
I’m designing myself a graduate program in poetry.
I received an unexpected gift this year: a reawakening of my deep love for poetry. I’m following this love by consuming great quantities of poems and filling notebooks with words. I wish we lived close to a university so I could attend an actual graduate program. But for now, my mom, my dear friends, my professor brother, and the wonderful library are all keeping me supplied and inspired.
And, to tell you the truth, most days my graduate studies look something like this . . .
Jane Goodall said that she learned how to be a good mother from watching chimpanzees. During her hours and hours of observation, she witnessed mother chimps and their babies. Mothers do not punish their babies for being “naughty,” Jane said. Instead, mothers redirect their babies when they want to change their behavior or keep them safe.
. . . Poetry arrived in search of me.
I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from,
from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when. . .
— Pablo Neruda
We spent the morning reading about Martin Luther King Jr., watching his “I Have a Dream Speech,” looking at Norman Rockwell paintings . . . and cutting out paper dolls. Our homeschool would just not be complete without paper dolls.
“That Quail, Robert”
A lovely, messy nest that Amie pulled out of a poplar tree
le gland = acorn
les cynorhodons = rosehips
This is a little catch up from 10 days ago when we spent a glorious afternoon at Houdek dunes in the midst of color and light and warmth. We read “Amos and Boris,” by William Steig (one of my all-time favorite children’s books), painted with watercolors, and picnicked. Yes, we have soaked up so many of these beautiful days this fall. I hope they will help carry us through the darker, colder months ahead.