Note By Note
Lessons learned
continue to echo,
to circle back,
time and again.
Evolving, maturing,
multiplexing on a vector
with the present season.
Like practicing a song
you know by rote,
until you know it
by Heart.
Slainte,
Paz
Lessons learned
continue to echo,
to circle back,
time and again.
Evolving, maturing,
multiplexing on a vector
with the present season.
Like practicing a song
you know by rote,
until you know it
by Heart.
Slainte,
Paz
Trees
Trees are my Teachers.
They have no choice in their birth, as do I.
Tree cannot move nearer to water, to a spot with better sun.
Tree cannot migrate south for the winter, or move over to give another crown some space.
Tree stands and grows mightily in the very spot where it was born.
Year in and year out, Tree is the best it can be, right where it is.
Tree is at peace with this.
Fish
Fish are my Teachers.
Trapped beneath the waters in their own beautiful world, they can never witness my own.
Most are trapped also in some impoundment. A lake, a pond. They can go nowhere.
If the water is low, the PH too high, Fish toughs it out.
Unable to get out and walk, or take to the air, Fish enjoys the beauty of his own world, and makes the best of what is before him.
In fact, he may revel in the fact that most of us will never see his world from his perspective.
Fish is at peace with this.
Birds
Birds are my Teachers.
Each sings his own song. Not because he has an opinion, but because he has a song to sing.
Bird ignores critics and all others, and sings mightily as best he knows how, for the love of singing.
Bird will often return to the same nest site year after year.
Bird flies. Bird could fly anywhere, yet stays right here and makes a home.
Comfort and familiarity, Bird declares “This is my home, and I will sing proudly of it.”
Bird is at peace with this.
Children
Children are my Teachers.
With children, everything old is new again.
Children love boldly. Plant wet kisses right on your lips.
Stretch tiny arms around my neck and cling mightily.
Children laugh readily. When they see something funny.
When you tickle them. When they feel like laughing.
Children cry at the drop of a hat. Hearts are tender organs, after all.
As we age and harden our hearts against the cruel world, we reserve crying for only the “most important” occasions.
Children cry when they feel like crying, and just as quickly, they recover.
Children are at peace with this.
And the circle continues.
Seek Peace,
Paz
Author Richard Bach said in a book “We teach best what we most need to learn.”.
That’s really what this is about.
This life, this site, these words.
I may flatter myself to think of myself as a philosopher, teacher, a sharer of these learnings.
This may or may not be the truth.
For with each lesson taught, I have learned.
Be at peace,
Paz