Excerpt from The Prophet
"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children,
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."
El nino was walking, half crying half shrieking, in his sleep tonight and then curled up in complete serenity and unruffled sleep as soon as I scooped him into my arms and fell into his bed with him. And tomorrow, at a belated Imbolc party, I will attempt to present this piece without sobbing to the point of incoherence.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."
El nino was walking, half crying half shrieking, in his sleep tonight and then curled up in complete serenity and unruffled sleep as soon as I scooped him into my arms and fell into his bed with him. And tomorrow, at a belated Imbolc party, I will attempt to present this piece without sobbing to the point of incoherence.
posted by Ladarna Daorsa at 2/10/2005
3 Comments:
*blows kiss*
I hope you had a lovely night.
I hope so as well. I suppose belated is better than never, although, I did not know you had any 'Imbolc party' friends out there in the desert.
I had to bail on the party due to my own impending sickness and bubby's sickness. Turns out it was cancelled due to sickness all 'round, so I missed nothing.
No, I do not have "Imbolc party" friends here, nor do I want them. My 'coven' days are well behind me and all such celebrations are now personal, shared with el nino, or Jeff or shared in spirit with that beautiful, brilliant almost lover of mine. The party was one being hosted by a new acquantance/friend; guest list hers, not mine. I would, of course, not have gone had been actually *on* Imbolc.
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