Here’s the latest….

Poetry of Music mktdaf

Remembering: Seamus Heaney reminds me of hope…can you see it? feel it? taste it?

Seamus Heaney
Seamus Heaney

It was 1989, and time to come up with a name for my just-born son. In an move I’ve never regretted, we named him Seamus (Shay for short), and though we agreed we weren’t naming him after anyone specific, it was cool that his name echoed this fellow from Ireland, who passed away in 2016.

During that period 32 years ago, folks asked us, baldly, how can you bring a kid into this world? It’s all so dark, so hopeless, so unforgiving, they said. I think this poem by Heaney answers the question far better than I did at that time. As I look at the tracks my sons both are leaving, as well as the ones they trace out as they make their paths, I believe in miracles, and the chance for hope & history to rhyme.

from “The Cure at Troy ” by Seamus Heaney

Human beings suffer,
they torture one another,
they get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
can fully right a wrong
inflicted or endured.

The innocent in gaols
beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker’s father
stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
faints at the funeral home.

History says, Don’t hope
on this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
the longed for tidal wave
of justice can rise up,
and hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
on the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
and cures and healing wells.

Call the miracle self-healing:
The utter self-revealing
double-take of feeling.
If there’s fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing
the outcry and the birth-cry
of new life at its term.
It means once in a lifetime
That justice can rise up
And hope and history rhyme.

– Seamus Heaney

Thoughts mktdaf

Thoughts: Mysteries, yes …by Mary Oliver

Mysteries, Yes
by Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
Art by Sylvie Demers

Thoughts Writings mktdaf

Thoughts: Puddle love

Puddle love.

My friend Ellen is doing her teaching practicum at a pre-school…I asked her what interesting happened today.

She said she told a kid today that it wasn’t a great idea to drink out of a puddle. She brought years of biology (germs!), geology (mud!), anthropology (the other kids don’t seem to want to drink…this!), sociology (this isn’t something people in our culture usually do, you know!) to the discussion.

He listened, then spoke.

The kid brought his first-hand experience to the discussion (it tastes gross, but I was thirsty!) and was thus persuaded to go inside for a drink.

Win-win-win.

Thoughts mktdaf

Thoughts: Think before you speak before you think

When I was in Chattanooga in the time after Mom & Dad made their transitions, I found some of my writing in an old ‘memory box’ from grade two (at St Gerard’s in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia), but it wasn’t writing like you expect.

I had gotten in trouble or something, so Sister had made me write ‘I will think before I speak’ a hundred times. Big pencil, big lines on the paper – I actually remember that. When I looked at the pages, I had a whoosh of memory about that, except for something new, which I held in my hands.

About two or three pages into the little stack, the words changed. ‘I will speak before I think.’ I don’t remember getting in trouble with all this (the writing part), so it must have been like that when Sister turned the pages over to my mom.

And now, as I learn each day more & more about what my heart says & what spirit says, maybe I’m getting closer to having them guide me a bit more. Pretty sure I’ve tuned in for long enough to all the often-noisy, often-insistent brain-noise that Sister wanted to be in charge.

Doesn’t matter if Sister was right.
Doesn’t matter if Sister was ‘wrong.’
Doesn’t matter if i was right.
Doesn’t matter if i was mixed up.

Just trying to keep listening.
🌿🙏🌿
Thoughts Writings mktdaf

Car facts: How much is it worth?

 

I love this story – it reminds of my Dad & his classic car club. (That’s his ’22 Model T in the picture, by the way…his first car!) It’s the kind of tale he’d mention, when I needed biz advice:

A father said to his daughter, “You have graduated with honors, here is a car I bought many years ago. It is a bit older now but before I give it to you, take it to the used car lot downtown and tell them you want to sell it and see how much they offer you for it.”

The daughter went to the used car lot, returned to her father and said, “They offered me $1,000 because they said it looks pretty worn out.”

The father said, “Now, take it to the pawn shop.” The daughter went to the pawn shop, returned to her father and said, ”The pawn shop offered only $100 because it is an old car.”

The father asked his daughter to go to a car club next and show them the car. The daughter then took the car to the club, returned and told her father, ”Some people in the club offered $100,000 for it because it’s a Holden Torana and it’s an iconic car and sought by many collectors.”

Now the father said this to his daughter, “The right place values you the right way!”

If you are not valued, do not be angry, it means you are in the wrong place. Those who know your value are those who appreciate you……Never stay in a place where no one sees your value.
Never!

Writings mktdaf

Writings: Sorrow makes things grow, most days…

10401397_765766106800815_9114548559866212708_n

Late last night, I was in the middle of a dream when the cat yowled at a raccoon outside. Kinda cool, because that helped me remember what was happening in the dream:

There was a stream next to a tree with roots that were above ground (some of ’em, or they wouldn’t be called roots) in a way that made for a chair shape. I sat there, watching & feeling the water go by, and glad for the sense of fulfillment & peace that made me glad I was there & nowhere else.

As I sat there, feeling the flow of the water, I realized some of the water was sad. It was the tears of people upstream who had lost friends. Some had people who were important to them pass away, and they missed them. Some had suffered harm, and hurt, and fearful situations.

I stretched my hand over the water, and said, “Only the tears need to come.” And the stream stayed the same, except that some of the water rose in a water spout and passed over my head, watering the field behind me. I knew that was the tears, rising from the flow, and in front of me the plants in the field grew quickly, strong & tall. Most of all, a second tree – not the one I was under – grew from a seedling, taking only moments to become large enough to spread its branches over me, protecting me (or so I thought) in its shade.

Still in the dream, I turned to my spirit guide, and asked, “What does it mean, Rinpoche? What does it mean?” As usual, making fun of me, he turned to my grandfather and said, “What does it mean?” who then turned to a rabbit who had hopped into the field, “Tell me what this means!” And the rabbit came to me, and whispered, “Sorrow makes things grow really big. Ever notice?”

It was really clear. Then the cat yowled, so I asked her if she was worried.

I don’t think she was, really.

Uncategorized Writings mktdaf

Writings: Thy will be done….

Brother Charles
Brother Charles

Over the years, little bits of things make a bit more sense. Time passes & experience grows, as I watch the way others do things & I do things, in this play we write each day, together.

Since I was a young monk, my parents sent me to Roman Catholic schools, even though we were Anglican (or Episcopalians, in the US).

Even though I wasn’t really a monk in the usual sense, I was attracted to the idea of a daily office, or what my Buddhist friends call a practice.

The idea of doing & saying the same things over & over each day served then & now to help underline that we’re here to live spiritual lives, and then do stuff in the physical world. In that order, rather than the reverse.

Francesco, opening the conversation for you & me....
Francesco, opening the conversation for you & me….

At least, that’s the way I see it, hey….

When I taught my first high school job in New Orleans, it was (naturally) at a Catholic boys’ high school, where we were required to offer the Lord’s Prayer or a Hail Mary before each class. I liked the “Our Father,” so that’s the one my class began with. It was already part of the little daily office I had made for myself, along with the St. Francis “Make Me An Instrument” prayer.

One of the phrases that stuck with me then was pretty simple, the four words: Thy will be done. 

At the time, I understood it in the do-what-your-parents-tell-you sense. Follow the rules, do the bosses’ will.

Do what you’re supposedta.

Over time, it became more & more apparent  to me that “thy will” had more to it than that. As I watched people who felt to me to have that special gift of bringing spirit alive in the world, I started feeling a shift with both “Thy will be done” and “Make me an instrument of thy peace“…and I hope it’s OK that I share that with you, as a notion for you to turn over in your mind, to float in your head, to move your body to places where you show people what it means to share & heal.

Kinda makes  things feel more, mean more, and do joy – more.

I’m pretty aware my poor efforts to share this as words is only the first part of what we’re visiting about here. So, I’d like to wrap up with a little prayer from Brother Charles, one of my spiritual heroes who made simple things turn into amazing things.

Let me know how it goes. I love the way you love, dear brothers & sisters.

Hugback –
Brother Ian

++++++++++++

Prayer of Abandonment

Father,
I abandon myself into your hands;
Do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do, I thank you:
I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures.
I wish no more than this, O Lord.

~Brother Charles de Foucauld, 

Thoughts mktdaf

Thoughts: Ubuntu

An anthropologist showed a game to the children of an African tribe …

He placed a basket of delicious fruits near a tree trunk and told them: The first child to reach the tree will get the basket.

When he gave them the start signal, he was surprised that they were walking together, holding hands until they reached the tree and shared the fruit!

When he asked them why you did that when every one of you could get the basket only for him!

They answered with astonishment: Ubuntu.

“That is, how can one of us be happy while the rest are miserable?”

Ubuntu in their civilization means: (I am because we are).

That tribe knows the secret of happiness that has been lost in all societies that transcend them and which consider themselves civilized societies ……. !!

Thought for the day…


"The real work of planet-saving will be small, humble, and humbling, and (insofar as it involves love) pleasing and rewarding. Its jobs will be too many to count, too many to report, too many to be publicly noticed or rewarded, too small to make anyone rich or famous. "
-- Wendell Berry

About Brother Ian

brother ian in actionOver the centuries, Brother Ian has been collecting stories & information & discourses for the purpose of elevating the human condition as needed, dissecting it when necessary, and building the case for hope.

In the spirit of noting that organized crime, organized baseball, organized labour, and organized religion tend to engender controversy & occasional discord, I promise to be neither organized or critical of those who are.

Recent Posts

Thanks for visiting!

©2013-2025 • Ian Byington • Friday Harbor, WA USA & Victoria, BC Canada