"If we knew each others' secrets, what comfort we would find."

I have a friend who is going through a tough time right now. The courage she's embodying to face this head-on is inspiring.

By revealing her "weakness," she's given her friends the opportunity to share her burden. And, for that, I am grateful.

She shared an especially touching txt that one of us sent. And, she got the words a little mixed up.

I prefer her version. It describes the very best in our friends.


"If we knew each others' secrets, what comfort we could bring."

Hall Pass

Certain concepts from High School have stayed with me.

For example, when my flight's delayed and I'm stuck at the airport, or I'm sitting on a tattered old couch in the office/waiting room of my mechanic while my Tracker "goes for a ride" on the lift (he LOVES it up there)... I am in study hall. Books open. No talking. Txting becomes the equivalent of passing notes.

Really, I'm in heaven. No complaining. I may have stuff to do and places to be, but right now, I'm here; an in-between moment. Just like study hall. I can make lists, plan, call people, but I prefer to take this hemmed in piece of the day to explore, daydream, read, and wonder. I enjoy the breather.

And this morning, I remembered my Hall Pass.

When I hear that voice inquire, "Ms. Ciampa, shouldn't you be doing something?" I flash my pass.

Signed by Mr. Wordsworth. (... who i met in high school.)


Expostulation and Reply

"Why, William, on that old grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your time away?

"Where are your books? --that light bequeathed
To Beings else forlorn and blind!
Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men to their kind.

"You look round on your Mother Earth,
As if she for no purpose bore you;
As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!"

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply:

"They eye-- it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will.

"Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.

"Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum
Of things for ever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?

"--Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,
Conversing as I may,
I sit upon this old grey stone,
And dream my time away."

i'm back

starting now