On Children

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

-Kahlil Gibran

Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

You say tomato

I say tomahto.

Bye Bye Birdie

Last week I was getting ready for bed. Actually, I was lying on the ground. I felt this sudden burst of energy fly through the small crack in my window and then pass hurriedly over my body. My first thought was that a ghost entered the room. My eyes darted to the string of lights above my bed because I felt something breathing there.

A small sparrow had come for a late night visit.

I became very excited. A messenger!

"hiiiiii!" I greeted him.

He was scared. His small body inhaled and exhaled quickly. He didn't know where he was. I tried to shoo him out of the room but he kept running into the walls, flying into the glass window, and falling to the ground. At one point he was under my bed. At another he was in my closet burrowed somewhere in my clothes.

If someone were to fast-forward the chase scene, it might be hard to tell who was the flustered animal. I'd say it was about equal.

I couldn't stand the fact that this little creature thought I was trying to kill him. I was stressing him out. Telling him I was trying to help him be free didn't work. He would not listen to me. I decided I needed to improve my ability to speak to animals.

Three hours later, a blanket was successfully thrown on top of the little fellow and I flung him out into the open world beyond my porch.

I have this feeling the bird would have found his way out if I had just waited a little bit. I was impatient. I am impatient. When I'm uncomfortable, when someone's uncomfortable, I want it gone. Free. I can't stand to watch a heart beat faster than it should and I forget that

this.

too.

shall.

pass.

it always does.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~