Here's your Daily Poem from the Poetry Chaikhana --
| Miracle Fair By Wislawa Szymborska (1923 - ) English version by Joanna Trzeciak Commonplace miracle: that so many commonplace miracles happen. An ordinary miracle: in the dead of night the barking of invisible dogs. One miracle out of many: a small, airy cloud yet it can block a large and heavy moon. Several miracles in one: an alder tree reflected in the water, and that it's backwards left to right and that it grows there, crown down and never reaches the bottom, even though the water is shallow. An everyday miracle: winds weak to moderate turning gusty in storms. First among equal miracles: cows are cows. Second to none: just this orchard from just that seed. A miracle without a cape and top hat: scattering white doves. A miracle, for what else could you call it: today the sun rose at three-fourteen and will set at eight-o-one. A miracle, less surprising than it should be: even though the hand has fewer than six fingers, it still has more than four. A miracle, just take a look around: the world is everywhere. An additional miracle, as everything is additional: the unthinkable is thinkable.  / Photo by Irargerich /
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============ Thought for the Day: Love the day. Look deeply into the eyes of your child. Spend time with yourself. These are true worship. ============ | Here's your Daily Music selection --  Jami Sieber Hidden Sky Listen - Purchase More Music Selections |
Hi Omss -
Wislawa Szymborska (pronounced vis'wava sim'borska) was born in Prowent, Poland in 1923. When she was still a child, in the early 1930's, her family moved to Krakow.
When World War II broke out, Wislawa Szymborska was still a student, and had to continue her education in secret. Toward the end of the war she found work with the railroads, protecting her from being deported to the forced labor camps in Germany. She also found occasional work as an illustrator.
With the end of the war, she began her university studies, focusing on language, literature, and sociology. It was then that she connected with the Polish writing scene and published her first poems.
Because of difficult finances, she eventually had to drop out of school. She married in 1948 (and later divorced, in 1954). During this time she worked as a secretary and illustrator for a magazine.
She spent much of her career as a columnist for a Polish literary review magazine.
In 1996 Wislawa Szymborska was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.
Although her poetry is loved throughout the world, she has published fewer than 250 poems.
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There are so many things I like about this poem!
Commonplace miracle:
that so many commonplace miracles happen.
That realization, when it stops being simply a nice idea and truly takes hold of the awareness, when that happens, the world finally comes alive to us. Or perhaps we come alive to it.
A miracle, for what else could you call it:
today the sun rose at three-fourteen
and will set at eight-o-one.
Miracles do not have to be relegated to the supernatural and the superhuman. We don't need to have lived in remote times or exotic places to experience miracles. We don't need to have spent weary decades in extreme spiritual practices to experience miracles. We don't need a different life or a different world.
Second to none:
just this orchard
from just that seed.
We just need to look around. We just need to see.
First among equal miracles:
cows are cows.
What is a miracle, really? It isn't so much an event or an experience as a moment. It is a moment of recognition, when our awareness catches a glimpse of the wider reality, when what we witness washes us away.
The world is pregnant with miracles. All it takes is for us to approach with quiet awareness and awe, and the most mundane things open themselves into infinities.
Several miracles in one:
an alder tree reflected in the water,
and that it's backwards left to right
and that it grows there, crown down
and never reaches the bottom,
even though the water is shallow.
But to really look, with a steady gaze and still mind -- so hard to do. The reflex is to squirm, to turn away, to let the mind grasp at a thousand things. That's the hard work right there: learning to relax out of that reflex and not lurch away from really seeing. Only then do we glimpse the miracle spread out beneath our feet.
A miracle, just take a look around:
the world is everywhere.
Allow yourself to enjoy a moment with the unthinkable today!
Ivan
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Ivan M. Granger's original poetry, stories and commentaries are Copyright © 2002 - 2010 by Ivan M. Granger.
All other material is copyrighted by the respective authors, translators and/or publishers.
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