Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EST December 20th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close-read the poemย Winter Solsticeย byย Hilda Morley, posted below.

Our prompt for this session was:ย โ€œWrite about something that crossed your path.โ€ย 

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

This will be our last virtual group session of 2021! We will be taking a holiday break to give our volunteer facilitators time off for celebration, rest and time with family. Please join us for our next sessionย on January 10th, 2022ย at 6pm EST, with more times to be listed on ourย Live Virtual Group Sessionsย page.


Winter Solstice by Hilda Morley

A cold night crosses
our path
                  The world appears
very large, very
round now       extending
far as the moon does
                                        It is from
the moon this cold travels
                                        It is
the light of the moon that causes
this night reflecting distance in its own
light so coldly
                                          (from one side of
the earth to the other)
                                        It is the length of this coldness
It is the long distance
between two points which are
not in a line        now
                                       not a
straightness       (however
straight) but a curve only,
silver that is a rock reflecting
                                                      not metal
but a rock accepting
distance
                     (a scream in silence
where between the two
points what touches
is a curve around the world
                                                      (the dance unmoving).

Encuentros virtuales en vivo: Sรกbado 18 de Deciembre, 13:00 EST (18:00 UTC)

Nos acompaรฑaran ocho participantes desde Nueva York, Espaรฑa, Argentina, California, y Italia.

El texto elegido fue Gracias a la Vida de la poeta Chilena Violeta Parra. El poema/canciรณn se leyรณ dos veces y despuรฉs vimos el video de Violeta Parra cantando la canciรณn.

Una participante notรณ que el poema es un poema existencial y amoroso, las estrofas se refieren, โ€œal hombre que amoโ€. Todas las estrofas terminan con lo que la poeta hace para estar mรกs cercana de su amadoโ€”la ayudan a ver, escuchar, sentir etc. a su amado. Aรบn al final del poema estรก ese otro. Se notรณ que la รบltima estrofa es mรกs universal, no singulariza al amado.

Otra persona mencionรณ que este poema es apropiado en este tiempo de la pandemia. El amado puede ser un familiar o una amistad, y cuando por fin pudimos salir de nuestras casas, apreciamos las cosas pequeรฑas como grillos, pรกjaros, etc. Y las dos รบltimas lรญneas son muy bonitas y ciertas, la relaciรณn entre autor y lector. Aun otra participante notรณ que la vida nos ha dado a todos.

Un participante mencionรณ que esta canciรณn nos impacta tanto porque todos somos humanos. Otra persona refiriรณ que, en el periodo de COVID, es un poema de agradecimiento; es tan importante ahora porque hay que ser consciente del prรณjimo. Alguien mรกs dijo que cuando uno estรก enfermo, se le quita โ€œla anestesiaโ€ de la vida y uno se recuerda lo que mรกs le importaโ€”la familia, las amistades, la naturaleza.

Otra persona le impactรณ el video de Violeta cantando la canciรณn. ยฟCuรกl va a ser el video de nuestra vida? ยฟCuรกles son las fotos que van a encajar nuestra vida? Esto le recordรณ a otra persona que Violeta se quitรณ su propia vida pronto despuรฉs de escribir esta canciรณn.

La propuesta de escritura fue โ€œGracias a vidaโ€ฆโ€ Un participante escribiรณ sobre todo lo que no tiene (enfermedad, hambre, etc.) y compartiรณ un cuento sobre dรกndole gracias a Dios en vez de pedirle a Dios. Otra escribiรณ un poema como defensa a la vida, como una afirmaciรณn. Otro escribiรณ sobre sus recuerdos. Y otra escribiรณ sobre la enfermedad que le ha visitado, de la aceptaciรณn y el impacto de este texto. Disfrutamos muchรญsimo al escuchar lo que habรญan escrito los participantes. Se pasรณ el tiempo demasiado de ligero.

Aquรญ, ahora alentamos a los participantes que si asรญ lo desean, compartan lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn. Deja tu respuesta aquรญ, si deseas continuar la conversaciรณn sobre el poema de Claribel Alegrรญa. Pero antes, les recomendamos tener en cuenta que el blog es un espacio pรบblico donde, por supuesto, no se garantiza la confidencialidad.

Por favor, รบnase a nosotros en nuestra prรณxima sesiรณn en espaรฑol: El sรกbado 15 de enero a las 13 hrs. o a la 1 pm EST (hora de Nueva York). Tambiรฉn, ofrecemos sesiones en inglรฉs. Ve aย  nuestra pรกgina de sesiones grupales virtuales en vivo.

ยกEsperamos verte pronto!


Gracias a La Vida por Violeta Parra

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto.
Me diรณ dos luceros que, cuando los abro,
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco,
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado,
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo.

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado el oรญdo, que en todo su ancho
graba noche y dรญa; grillos y canarios.
martillos, turbinas, chubascos
y la voz tan tierna de mi enamorado.

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado el sonido y el abecedario,
con รฉl las palabras que pienso y declaro:
madre, amigo, hermano y luz, alumbrando
la ruta del alma del que estoy amando.

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados;
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos,
playas y desiertos, montaรฑas y llanos,
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio.

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto.
Me diรณ el corazรณn, que agita su marco
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano,
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo,
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros.

Gracias a la vida, que me ha dado tanto.
Me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto;
asรญ yo distingo dicha de quebranto,
los dos materiales que forman mi canto
y el canto de ustedes, que es el mismo canto,
y el canto de todos, que es mi propio canto.


Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST December 17th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close-read the poem Someone Is Studying Einsteinโ€™s Brain by Miles Solstice, posted below.

Our prompt for this session was:ย โ€œWrite about studying someone.โ€ย 

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday December 20th at 6pm EST. This will be our last virtual group session of 2021! We will be taking a holiday break to give our volunteer facilitators time off for celebration, rest and time with family. We will be resuming virtual group sessions on January 10th, 2022 at 6pm EST, with more times to be listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


Someone Is Studying Einsteinโ€™s Brain by Miles Solstice

When the next great
                                        dies
will their emails
be packaged
                        and published
revealing
                        their motivation
                                                        for everything
they ever wrote
enlightening researchers
satisfying curious readers?

Thereโ€™s more written down
now
        than ever
                        and none of it
is written down.
                             Ten
                                  thousand
elephants
               sway
                            in the breeze.
Blades
            of grass
                               conspire
against
            a dandelion.

An albatross flies five
hundred miles
                              without flapping
migrates
                  pole to pole.
The price
                      of a one hundred
trillion dollar bill.

                                Have you ever
sat next to a
                          campfire
                                                until your shoes
began to melt?
                                And what
of the toes
                                in that case?

Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST December 15th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close-read the poem Entangle by Tony Hoagland, posted below.

Our prompt for this session was:ย โ€œWhat is better left entangled?โ€ย 

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday December 17th at 12pm EST,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


Entangle by Tony Hoagland


Sometimes I prefer not to untangle it.
I prefer it to remain disorganized,

because it is richer that way
like a certain shrubbery I pass each day on Reba Street

in an unimpressive yard, in front of a house that seems unoccupied:
a chest-high, spreading shrub with large white waxy blossomsโ€”

whose stalks are climbed and woven through simultaneously
by a different kind of vine with small magenta flowers

that appear and disappear inside the maze of leaves
like tiny purple stitches.

The white and purple combination of these species,
one seeming to possibly strangle the other,

one possibly lifting the other up โ€” it would take both
a botanist and a psychologist to figure it all out,

โ€”but I prefer not to disentangle it,
because it is more accurate.

My ferocious love, and how it repeatedly is trapped
inside my fear of being sentimental;

my need to control even the kindness of the world,
rejecting gifts for which I am not prepared;

my apparently inextinguishable notion
that I am moving toward a destination

โ€”I could probably untangle it
yet I prefer to walk down Reba Street instead

in the sunlight and the wind, with no mastery
of my feelings or my thoughts,

purple and ivory and green, not understanding what I am
and yet in certain moments remembering, and bursting into tears,

somewhat confused as the vines run through me
and flower unexpectedly.

Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EST December 13th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we listened to the song Dickens’ Dublin (The Palace) by Loreena McKennitt, posted below with lyrics.

Our prompt for this session was:ย โ€œWrite about a place called home.โ€ย 

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Wednesday December 15th at 12pm EST,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


Joyful mystery, the birth of our Lord...
This night our Lady and St. Joseph was going up to get registered and, um,
They were going down the road and they met this man and he said,
"Have you any room?" and he said, "No, but there's an old stable over there that I owned, if yous want to go into it."
And they went over and the Lord came down from the heaven at twelve o'clock and loads of beautiful angels was with them, and when they were walkin'...

I walk the streets of Dublin town, it's eighteen forty-two
It's snowing on this Christmas Eve, think I'll beg another bob or two
I'll huddle in this doorway here
'Til someone comes along
If the lamp lighter comes real soon
Maybe I'll go home with him
Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own

These three wise kings, um, they were all from different countries.
And they always used to look up at the sky and they looked up this night and saw this beautiful star up in the sky.
And when they were going they all meeted together and they had to pass King Herod's, not that we much care for him.
And they went in and he said, "Where ye goin' with yer best stitches on ye?"

The horses on the cobbled stones go by, think I'll get one, one fine day
And ride into the countryside and very far away
But now as the daylight disappears
I best find a place to sleep
Think I'll slip into the bell tower
In the church just down the street
Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own

And they said, "Did you not hear the news?" and say he says, "What news?" He says, "This day the Savior is born."
And he says to them, "When you find him come back and tell me 'cause I want to go and adore him too."
And he was only coddin' them. He wanted to kill him and when they were going, they stopped and they said,
"Surely not this old stable that our King is born in. We were expecting a palace."

Maybe on the way I'll find the dog I saw the other night
And tuck him underneath my jacket
So we'll stay warm through the night
And as we lie in the bell tower high
And dream of days to come
The bells o'er head will call the hours
The day we will find a home
Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own
Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own

There was these shepherds and shepherds are fellas that mind
The foals and cows and sheeps and little lambs and all and, um,
They hears this beautiful music up in the sky and they were wondering what was so fun.
An angel disappated them and he said, "I was wonderin' what was so fun"
And he said ye, and he said, "The savior is born. If yous want to go see him, follow that star up in the sky, " and it was a beautiful star.

Live Virtual Group Session: 5PM EST December 8th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close-read, together, the poem Evening by Rainer Maria Rilke and the painting The Charcoal Burnerโ€™s Hut by Thรฉodore Rousseau, both posted below.

Our prompt for this session was:ย โ€œWrite about light meeting dark.โ€ย 

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday December 13th at 6pm EST,  with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


Evening
By Rainer Maria Rilke
 
The sky puts on the dark blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;

and leave you, not at home either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night, and rises:

and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternately stone in you and star.
The Charcoal Burnerโ€™s Hut by Thรฉodore Rousseau

Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EST December 6th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close-read an excerpt fromย Humilityย byย Dan Rather and Elliot Kirschner, posted below.

Our prompt for this session was a choice between:ย โ€œWrite about what we don’t know.โ€ or “Write about something bigger than us.”

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next sessionย Wednesday December 8th atย 5pm EST, ย with more times listed on ourย Live Virtual Group Sessionsย page.


Photo credit: Marco Bottigelli

fromย Humilityย byย Dan Rather and Elliot Kirschner

Humility should not only be considered in terms of our inabilities. Countless times in my life I have been humbled by human ingenuity, kindness, selflessness, knowledge, and community. Especially in difficult, frightening, and alienating times, we must keep these assurances in mind.

I am humbled by the healthcare workers who have sacrificed so much. I am humbled by the scientists who are rushing to develop treatments and vaccines for the coronavirus. I am humbled by all those who are endeavoring to try to make the world better, to ease suffering and comfort the afflicted. And I am humbled by all of you who have joined in the community we are building.

I know we face grave challenges. And I know that pride and hubris seem ascendant. We are inundated with chest pounding, gaslighting, and caustic overconfidence. Humility can and should be an appropriate rejoinder. It is not in its essence inherently hopeful, but it can be a source of hope.

We can find solace in recognizing that there is only so much we can control and predict. There is only so much that we can know and fix. But if our mind is open to accepting the winds of change that power nature, we can recognize that change is a force for creation as well as destruction. We can find ways to regroup and rebuild, together, with humility.


Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST December 1st 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined for this session!

For this session we close-read the poemย Soulwork byย Tracy K. Smith, posted below.

Our prompt for this session was:ย โ€œOne’s is…โ€

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next sessionย Monday December 6th atย 6pm EST, ย with more times listed on ourย Live Virtual Group Sessionsย page.


Soulwork byย Tracy K. Smith

Oneโ€™s is to feed. Oneโ€™s is to cleave.
Oneโ€™s to be doubled over under greed.
Oneโ€™s is strife. Oneโ€™s to be strangled by life.
Oneโ€™s to be called and to rise.
Oneโ€™s to stare fire in the eye.
Oneโ€™s is bondage to pleasure.
Oneโ€™s to be held captive by power.
Oneโ€™s to drive a nation to its naked knees
in war. Oneโ€™s is the rapture of stolen hours.
Oneโ€™s to be called yet cower.
Oneโ€™s is to defend the dead.
Oneโ€™s to suffer until ego is shed.
Oneโ€™s is to dribble the nectar of evil.
Oneโ€™s but to roll a stone up a hill.
Oneโ€™s to crouch low
over damp kindling in deep snow
coaxing the thin plume
of cautious smoke.
Oneโ€™s is only to shiver.
Oneโ€™s is only to blow.



Copyright ยฉ 2021 by Tracy K. Smith. 
Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 8, 2021, 
by the Academy of American Poets.