I have just been moved to tears by a poem by Robert Bly. Today I went to the Fines Creek Bluegrass Festival. I saw breathtaking talents that have been honing their craft since I was in diapers, which inspired me more than I can say. But what delighted and intrigued me most was the children. Little tiny bodies who danced their hearts out to the music, who have nothing to contribute to life yet but their unabashed passion for it. I wanted to put wreaths on each of their heads. They are our future, and I think it is in good hands.

Reading Bly’s poem touched me largely because of the children tonight and because of a baby bear who appeared on my porch last week. I woke up and looked in his eye. He didn’t mean me any harm, he just was looking for something to eat. I saw him, fell back to sleep and woke up to the sound of him tearing something apart, which I didn’t discover until the next morning was my bird feeder. He wanted the seeds in it so he tore it to shreds.

This poem carries the sense of such belief in innocence.

Things to Think

Think in ways you’ve never thought before.
If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message
Larger than anything you’ve ever heard.
Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats.

Think that someone may bring a bear to your door,
Maybe wounded and deranged; or think that a moose
Has risen out of the lake, and he’s carrying on his antlers
A child of your own whom you’ve never seen.

When someone knocks on the door,
Think that he’s about
To give you something large: tell you you’re forgiven,
Or that it’s not necessary to work all the time,
Or that it’s been decided that if you lie down no one will die.
–Robert Bly