This little bit of poetry flitted past me recently and I knew I wanted to share it. Why? It somehow struck a nerve of deep contentment and little ping-pong pangs of guilt at the same time. The poem does paint a north star for me. Yes, despite writing a whole bookshelf all about awe. I guess I can be a bit, what's the word? Ambitious? Maybe? Just a tad? That's probably why this poem -- which is actually pulled from a wonderful book called The Parent’s Tao Te Ching by William Martin -- felt like cream on a rash.
I hope it strikes a chord with some of you, too.
Poem:
Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives. Such striving may seem admirable, but it is the way of foolishness. Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life. Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples and pears. Show them how to cry when pets and people die. Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand. And make the ordinary come alive for them. The extraordinary will take care of itself.
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