Gratitude to Old Teachers When we stride or stroll across the frozen lake, We place our feet where they have never been. We walk upon the unwalked. But we are uneasy. Who is down there but our old teachers? Water that once could take no human weight— We were students then— holds up our feet, And goes on ahead of us for a mile. Beneath us the teachers, and around us the stillness. Robert Bly (1926 – 2021)
I did like this simple poem as Robert Bly is not always easy to fathom (excuse the pun).
The journey of life is like a walk across a frozen lake. And I remember as an eight-year-old testing a frozen pond with parts too thin to walk on. Our walk or life journey is unique, and we walk on the unwalked.
We have underneath support from others all our life. Sometimes completely…
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