Saturday, March 12, 2016

Be still, I am content

I appreciated the sense of humor that the class had.  "A sense of humor is so valuable" I told them.  "The older we get, life can get more sucky.  With a sense of humor, we will be able to laugh them away" I told them.

I have no pretensions that anybody cared for what this most interesting old man had to say. The few students who want to engage with me find that I am a happy guy who laughs at his own jokes even when they are about him.

The silly happiness, I have come to realize, lies on a foundation of contentment.  A peaceful sense of contentment even when I drown in my own sorrows. Even when I read, and blog about, depressing Russian literature.

I wondered whether a poem might say all these and more.  Well, not about the sense of humor but about feeling content.

I went to my go-to-site for poems.  A link there "poems for women's history month." I was reminded of the female poet's verse that we read back in high school.

I scanned the poems.  I read a couple.  I felt like the women poets were letting me down.

And then I came across this one. Perfect!



Yes, "Be still, I am content ... joy [is] a flame in me"


  

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