The university gave me a new, elegant
classroom to teach in. Only one thing, they said. You can't bring your dog. It's in my contract, I said. (I had made sure of that.) We bargained and I moved to an old classroom in an old building. Propped the door open. Kept a bowl of water in the room. I could hear Ben among other voices barking, howling in the distance. Then they would all arrive— Ben, his pals, maybe an unknown dog or two, all of them thirsty and happy. They drank, they flung themselves down among the students. The students loved it. They all wrote thirsty, happy poems. |
I am a minister, photographer, retreat leader, author and Quaker -- albeit one who's not always good at being a good Quaker. I am the author of "Awaken Your Senses," "Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality," "Mind the Light: Learning to See with Spiritual Eyes" and "Sacred Compass: The Path of Spiritual Discernment" (foreword by Richard Foster). This blog is a compendium of writing, photography, seriousness and silliness -- depending on my mood.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
"...thirsty, happy poems."
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1 comment:
How lovely, to experience this real world reordering of things by their deeper importance! We are reminded that it does not have to be 'business as usual'.
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