A few of the #poetryvalentines we made at Columbia College’s Center for Book & Paper Arts!
[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], by E.E. Cummings
Flirtation, by Rita Dove
The Forecast, by Wendy Xu
from “Poems for Blok”, by Marina Tsvetaeva
I have to tell you, by Dorothea Grossman
If, by John Rybicki
Currying the Fallow-Colored Horse, by Lucie Brock-Broido
Each fall, millions of North American monarch butterflies migrate to California and Mexico for winter. They make a massive journey (up to 4,830 kilometers/3,000 miles) and use the sun to ensure that they stay on course. On cloudy days Earth’s magnetic field as a kind of backup navigational system. (read more here)
One time their migration went right through my town. Butterflies are rare in town, maybe a tiny white one here or there, more so in the fields outside of town. This migration brought HUNDREDS of Monarch Butterflies right to my front yard, it is and likely will be my most vivid childhood memory. It was literally magical.
(via sci-universe)
The people who change the world didn’t wind up doing so because they wanted to change the world. They changed the world by asking a question, by seeing an unacknowledged problem, by following their own passion but meeting it with personal experience.
And, many times, the people who changed the world never knew they did or how much they did.
For example, my father wanted to be a doctor. He didn’t want to change the world, he just wanted to help terminally ill children. He was confused as to why a particular tumor was curable if it appeared elsewhere in the body but was inoperable if it developed in the brain or spinal cord. It was a puzzle, an important one. He developed the techniques that made those tumors operable, saving lives that every other doctor had given up on. And those techniques are still in use to this day, outliving my father as part of his legacy.
“We don’t set out to save the world; we set out to wonder how other people are doing and to reflect on how our actions affect other people’s hearts.” ~ Pema Chodron
If we get caught up in the idea of achievement and recognition, then we miss the point. If people want to change the world just to change it, simply to make their mark as a “good” person, then are they? If we feel the need to change the world in order to satiate a quarter, third, mid, or whatever life crisis, then is it really about the world or about us?
Our identities are too tied into material manifestation. We want to point at something and say with certainty and security, “This is me. I did that.”
In the end, a meaningful life is not marked by achievements, impacts, or wealth.
“The moment you start clinging to things, you have missed the target—you have missed. Because things are not the target, you, your innermost being, is the target—not a beautiful house, but a beautiful you; not much money, but a rich you; not many things, but an open being, available to millions of things.” ~ Osho
“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” ~ Einstein
We are all unique and yet seek recognition by trying to fit in. Or, conversely, only recognize others who fit into our perceptual schemas.
Saying “I want to be a millionaire” is different than starting a business you are passionate about and then selling for millions.
The same goes for wishing to change the world.
Get to know the world. Get to know the people in your life. What problems exist that are needless? What would we be better off without? What do we need that we don’t yet realize?
No one can see the way you can see nor do what you can do. By embracing that without losing touch with the important things that we all have in common, you can offer something that didn’t exist before you did.
So in the end, I’m a fan of playing toward our strengths. Perhaps you’ll be the scientist to perfect gene therapy. Maybe you’re the investigative artist/journalist who takes a stand and changes the tide of a national issue.
Or maybe you’ll live a life of peace and solitude in the wilderness. Ever heard of Christopher McCandless? I’m assuming many others were assigned Into the Wild as reading in High School.
McCandless was just a kid who didn’t live past the age of 24. He couldn’t accept modern society and spent his life as a wanderer/adventurer, eventually dying of starvation in Alaska.
Did he know a book would be written about him? That he would be remembered for decades to come? That his quotes and images would be circulating on social media?
Sometimes big things enact little change. Sometimes little things have far-reaching and unpredicted effects.
So ask yourself what’s really important—then go with it!
Namaste :) Much love.
(via inhabitude)