Poem for a Sunday Morning

Questions Before Dark
{Jeanne Lohmann}

Day ends, and before sleep
when the sky dies down, consider
your altered state: has this day
changed you? Are the corners
sharper or rounded off? Did you
live with death? Make decisions
that quieted? Find one clear word
that fit? At the sun’s midpoint
did you notice a pitch of absence,
bewilderment that invites
the possible? What did you learn
from things you dropped and picked up
and dropped again? Did you set a straw
parallel to the river, let the flow
carry you downstream?



These are the days of not knowing what day it is.  

Some of them feel independent and clear, wholly delineated from the others. (It is not “Day 4,” it is Thursday, an actual day in the life.) On these days, I have had a clear thought, followed an idea, engaged in a way that stimulated learning and connection.

Some of them feel smudged and smooshed, the blurred remains of a bug on the windshield. On these days, I have read the news…all of it. I have thought the dark thoughts, felt the dark feelings, watched myself drift – not float, but drift, right into the oncoming car of my lower self.

It’s a big hurried rush of not knowing, all of this. 

What am I to make of this perpetual liminal space?

Answer: I get to choose every day, be it smudged or clear, how to respond to this reality. 

I get to do that. 

Today, and tomorrow. 


sky clouds cloudy earth

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Poem for a Sunday Morning

from “Vacillation”
{W.B. Yeats}

My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.

While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessed and could bless.


On Monday, I will celebrate my 50th birthday. Months ago, well before the advent and repercussions of Covid-19, I decided that there were two ways I wanted to mark the occasion. The first, a long and challenging hike and the second, the recitation of this brief poem for a gathering of close friends and family.

The long and challenging hike is for the expression of my physical well-being, to feel and rightly use the body that has faithfully brought me this far and, with good care, will keep me moving and reaching for years to come. I enter my sixth decade with a deep commitment to being outside, to the exploration of trails and mountains and forests and valleys. I am drawn to these places because of their elemental beauty, of course, but even more so because of their gifts of perspective and humility, something I seem increasingly open to receiving!

The recitation of this poem is an opening through which to express my emotional well-being, that reservoir of love and service that has been poured out in my favor by the people who have refused to allow my failings to interrupt the flow. I know what the poet felt because I feel it too; the blaze of gratitude, the shock of unearned grace, the deep happiness of being wholly loved.

I also hear the call to action (“…and could bless”) as an affirmation of the responsibility of a mature person to be of service. While my personal planting will continue – learning, growing, expanding and connecting – it is companioned I now see by an even more robust season of harvest and distribution. Learning becomes teaching. Growing becomes the provision of shade. Expansion becomes an invitation to share abundance. Connection becomes the catalyst for capacity, because there is no such thing as a finite amount of love.

With rain in the forecast the next few days, I took advantage of the favorable spring weather and enjoyed that long, challenging hike first thing this morning. Once at the top of Mt. Woodson, across a broad, flat boulder, I went ahead and recited the poem, too (video below).

It’s important to share it now, knowing it will be some time before that gathering of family and friends, but in a broader sense, too. It’s important to share it now because in this threshold moment we are all experiencing, if only for “twenty minutes more or less” we are compelled to remember whom we are to one another and to amplify it accordingly.


‘Essential’ is a Choice

Most of us don’t meet the government’s definition of “essential” when it comes to working the front lines of the response to the novel corona virus.

Most of us, that is, are deemed “non-essential.”

And we who are “non-essential” have been given a very short and manageable to-do list: wash your hands, stay at home and/or stay six feet apart.

But none of the “non-essentials” I’ve talked to feel like that’s “enough.” Most of them want to and are doing more.

You’re seeing it everywhere: acts of service, compassion, creativity, problem-solving, and helping hands. Educators, musicians, civil servants, service workers, neighbors, kids, from all walks of life, giving of themselves in innumerable ways and with epic levels of generosity.

These acts and these efforts, in all of their forms, are essential because they lift us up, give us hope, and remind us in tangible ways that we are all connected.

When we get through the worst of this crisis, it will be because the first wave of essential workers fought heroic battles to stem the tide of a terrible virus. It will also be because a second wave of people, those who chose to be essential, contributed their best selves to the effort, reminding all of us just how remarkable and just how powerful it is to be human.

This is the time to be essential.

Being essential is a choice.

Please do what you can.


close up photo of text

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#49 – Vote

A little more than fifty days ago I decided to bring my daily blogging practice to an end. I decided to do so by using the final fifty days to write about “50 Ideas Worth Fighting For.” 

To be honest, I wasn’t sure I had 50 Ideas to write about but then I started making my list and they came easily. As the days went along, many from that initial list made the cut and many did not, as current events – personal, national and global – challenged me to think harder and harder about what I really believe in and what should be fought for.

In just seven short weeks the world has shifted so dramatically that it cannot and will not be the same again. Many of us haven’t felt the comfort of “normalcy” since the 2016 election. Our efforts to make peace with that outcome (with the rationale that the system will allow us to expunge the anomaly in four years) have been challenging at best, but here in year four the light at the end of the tunnel was finally coming into view.

And then the coronavirus changed everything. Not just because it is a once-in-a-century pandemic but because the ineptitude – perhaps even the criminality – of those sworn to protect the citizens of this country have led us into a crisis beyond description, the full scope of which will not be known for some time. We are needlessly stressing the entire infrastructure of the country, not to mention putting our most vulnerable citizens at risk, because of the greed and callousness of our failed leaders.

Does leadership matter? Ask your kids who won’t return to school this year. Ask the person just laid off from her job. Ask those confined to nursing homes who live each day in fear of infection without the comfort and care of family members not allowed to visit them.

Competent, compassionate leadership matters more than ever. And we see that kind of leadership at the local and state levels, as qualified people work tirelessly to respond to a crisis that their federal peers could have alerted them to much earlier and far more effectively. We see neighbors, co-workers, and complete strangers doing what they can to ease the burden of those within their reach because that’s the best of humanity coming through when those in power fail us.

I wasn’t planning to write about this today, but I have built an entire career on helping leaders become more effective in the face of change and we are witnessing the slow-motion train wreck of what happens when ineffective leaders have to face a level of responsibility for which they are tactically and morally unprepared.

What else could I write about, then?

I am disgusted, I am angry and I am so, so sad.

But what I feel even more strongly is the weight of my responsibility to do the following:

  1. Remain positive
  2. Control what I can control
  3. Be of service
  4. Show compassion
  5. Take care of myself
  6. Love my family
  7. Continue my work to build better leaders
  8. Vote

That’s it. So, that’s what I’m going to do.

What are you going to do?


i voted sticker lot

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#44 – The Greater Good

“Social distancing”

“Hunker down”

“Self-isolate”

“Flatten the curve”

I did not plan to include “The Greater Good” on my list of “50 Ideas Worth Fighting For” but it’s never been made more real or more important to fight for it than right now.

Yes, it’s possible that we are already too late, that a surge of cases will overwhelm the system, but we cannot afford to think like that. We have to choose new actions out of a deep sense of responsibility to ourselves, our families and our communities.

In the age of the selfie we have to do the well-being equivalent of asking a stranger to take our picture. And when asked, we have to be willing to say, “yes.” Not a perfect analogy, I know.

Those of us living privileged lives with plenty of resources (toilet paper included), are morally obligated to take these steps in order to ensure we limit the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic.

We are morally obligated to honor the vital truth that we are all connected and that, by and through our connection, we wield the power to enliven and enable as well as the power to neglect and to harm.

We must choose the former and we must do it now. 


flattening-the-curve

#38 – Competence

It’s worth fighting for more competent leaders.

You don’t tolerate incompetence from your doctor or your accountant but do you feel the same about your leaders?

Maybe you think that effective leadership is that much harder to measure than the successful treatment of an illness or the filing of a tax return. I don’t buy that rationale because as subjective as “good” leadership can be, it is still the sum of the responses to two important questions: “Did we accomplish our goal?” (Are we better off?) and “Did we accomplish our goal in a way that we feel great about?” (Are we engaged and ready for more?)

The responses to both of those questions are both measurable and actionable if we are willing to do the work.

In spite of clear evidence of competence to the contrary, human beings sometimes act irrationally and overturn the apple cart just because we can. It feels good to “throw the bums out” and start over, regardless of the lack of qualifications or experience of those who take their place. We change things up for the sake of change, maybe to feel heard or to be seen, but not always because it makes good sense to do so.

As a country we did that in 2016. Just one example of a negative result of that particular preference for incompetence is that 1,600 scientists left government service in the first two years of the current administration. Incompetence then has both short and long-term consequences. Imagine the devastation to the ranks of our most competent government workers – and how that will impact research, policy design and decision making in the face of climate change and the current and next versions of Covid-19 – if four years turns into eight.

Incompetence is an insult to competence. We demand better in the arenas of life that most directly impact us (health and taxes!) but hit the snooze button when it’s someone else’s problem. It’s time to wake up and realize that those distinctions are false, that we are all connected and that we all pay the price for incompetent leadership.

Say it with me now: “Just Ok is not Ok.”

This is #38 in the series, “50 Ideas Worth Fighting For.” This one’s another favorite of mine.


PS: If you are reading this on Facebook, I would like to invite you to go to my website to sign-up for direct delivery of my blog posts. I will be de-activating my FB account at the end of the month. Thank you!


person holding container with seaweed

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