The Power of Love

The_Power_of_Love

NOTE: The finger paint artist, Alexandra, is a beautiful 12-year-old child from Sandpoint, Idaho, USA and lives everyday with Rett syndrome. Please take a moment to visit her web HERE.  It is beautiful and inspiring.

You will also enjoy a visit to her mother Catherine’s web HERE.

You can learn more about Diane Loomas, the poem’s author HERE.

And you can learn about the International Rett Syndrome Foundation HERE.

Enjoy!

 

If I had my child to raise all over again,
I’d build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I’d finger paint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.
I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars,
I’d do more hugging and less tugging.
I’d see the oak tree in the acorn more often,
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I’d model less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.
                                        —Diane Loomans

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Hill of Life

Hill_Of_Life

Enjoy!

I sat with the stars on the hill of life
And looked at the world below.
I ran with the winds where winds begin
And followed them where they blow.
I lay by the sea on the beaten rock
And rode on the farthest wave,
I watched by a child on its night of birth
And followed it to its grave.
And love in the still of the star flecked night,
When earth was all strewn with gold,
Has lifted my heart like the chords of a song
Oft sung in the worlds of old.
And although I have not understood all this,
Made up of a laugh and a wail,
I think that the God of the world knows all,
And some day will tell the tale.
                                       —Max Ehrmann

photo credit: Royce Bair

Life Is A Gift

LIFE_by_Edgar_Guest

Enjoy!

                                                              LIFE
Life is a gift to be used every day, not to be smothered and hidden away. It isn’t a thing to be stored in the chest where you gather your keepsakes and treasure your best. It isn’t a joy to be sipped now and then, and promptly put back in a dark place again. Life is a gift that the humblest may boast of, and one that the humblest may well make the most of. Get out and live it each hour of the day, wear it and use it as much as you may. Don’t keep it in niches and corners and grooves, you’ll find that in service its beauty improves.   —Edgar Guest