life lessons

I woke up to a life lesson this morning. I know you expect me to tell you, but the life lesson is not so much important as the fact that it was a life lesson (I sound a little bit like McCain, huh?). Literally, five minutes after opening my eyes, my padre was ready to supply his daughter with a life lesson. Sometimes I forget that although I am a Dartmouth graduate (with honors) and have persevered this year's emotional and life altering tornadoes, I know everything. Boy did I get off my high horse this morning. It is always a blessing to have someone to humble you even if it is a little bit embarrassing. Better my padre than a friend who doesn't want to talk to me ever again. Better my padre than my boss, right? and for this I am tremendously grateful. What would life be if we knew everything? There would be no time to sit back and reflect...and then write a blog about it : ) My life is beginning to unfold and the carpet is rolling into a new doorway, a new city, a new focus, a new career, a new list of life lessons. and for this I am tremendously grateful. During my morning of reflection, I came across another life lesson in a book my older brother gave me for graduation: Letters to a Young Poet.

Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer. It does come. But it comes only to the patient, who are there as though eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly still and wide.

Thank you, Mr. Rainer Maria Rilke.

For you, I am grateful.