Sometimes your Harbor Pilot guides you to safety with the power of well chosen WORDS. Today let's take a minute to reflect on who is keeping you afloat with spoken affirmations.
Kathy Greene: Today is Caregiver day. Greene: For us to come into safe harbor, we need our harbor pilots. She shares a poem about the power of words to sing over us and call us home. You don't need a poet to be a harbor poet.
Good morning, Cadre. I'm speak wonder. My name is Kathy, and my Cadre name is speak wonder, and I like to come to you on Caregiver day talking about harbor pilots. Testing has joined testing. One, two, three. I think we're connected. I do believe we are. I'm going to trust the process. Harbor pilots, in a nutshell, are those vessels and elements in the sea of our figuring out caregiving. Because just like the ocean, the conditions of caregiving are very changeable and very subject to cloud cover, weather patterns, moods, emotions, fatigue, anxiety.
These different elements swirl around to cause storms. And for us to come into safe harbor, we need our harbor pilots. We need those anchors to keep us centered and focused. We need the little bobbing harbor buoys that keep the humor in our day and the levity. We need the tugboats that know when to give us a push and when to lend us a pull. We need the lighthouse that shines the light on the. And makes a pathway. I do believe I'm connected. I'm just gonna forge on ahead. I've done all the things, you guys.
I've done all the things. So I'm going to trust that we're live. I am traveling today, and I went to see. I have come to this town, Warren, to see my mom in her nursing care home. And where she lives and is a resident now is about an hour and a half. Road construction has another 15 minutes. So about an hour and 45 minutes from my home on the shores of Lake Erie. So that, just logistically, can be a challenge, making sure that I get all my things done at home and budget enough time to get to mom and take care of my dog, Gracie.
Hey, Gracie. There's my little girl. Hi, Gracie. Hello. I am in a pet friendly hotel, and I'm a frequent flyer here, so they know Gracie, and there are always treats waiting for her. Yeah. Connect, connect, connect. I'm getting a little worried that I'm not seeing any comments, but it just could be an, you know, a lull in the day, a lag in people's ability to join the live. I have a poem that I brought Jean Nichols the other day on her live stream, mentioned that she misses my poetry. So it's been a minute or two since I've shared some of my poems, and I wrote one specifically for this day on caregiver day.
It's called harbor poets. So it's a little spin on harbor pilots, and it's about the power of words to sing over us and call us home and remind us of who we are. And that we're strong and that we're enough today. And as those who give care in many different ways in unique situations of caring for loved ones, that we need the words and the affirmations of those who can help us, can help us find our way. So I give you harbor poets. You don't have to be a poet to be a harbor poet. You simply need to be available to call out to someone when they've lost their way.
Last week, when mom and I went to the county fair, we had a fabulous day, just a delightful time. And I was riding on that wave, surfing and feeling successful. And then, just like the sea, the waters got kind of choppy, difficult to navigate. And mom has had a rough couple of days. It's been tough. So I'm here to remind you that caregiving fluctuates with the human. Because it's a very organic process. And it is fraught with difficulty and blessed with joyful moments, sometimes in the same moment.
This is harbour poets for the quadrasphere. Before I read it, I want to tell you I don't usually write in rhyme. I almost avoid it because I'm not as good at it as the classic poets. I'm just. It's not really in my wheelhouse. I like prosy poems and I like haiku. However, this one called for a rhythm and something of a cadence, which called for rhyming. A windswept voice is calling me beneath the clouds, across the sea. My spirit aches to hear it. Singh in velvet tones, all feathery. Away from port no harbor light, the darkest hour of the night.
I feel the lurching of the boat. I feel my throat constrict with fright. I clutch the ropes. My vessel stalls. Deep waters heave up salted walls. The groaning of the towering mast sings to the skyd. I feel so small. That distant voice now fills the air. A melody of trust and care crescendoing. I'll bring you home the harbor. See, it's over there. The humming of a little boat becomes my symphony of hope. Defying waves and fog and mist. It sings me home in winsome notes. A harbor poet in my storm.
A vision on the cusp of morn. A comrade saying, stay the course. You're not alone, though you're careworn. Your harbor poets shelter you. They know what you are going through. You're safe inside the quadrosphere. These humans are your ready crew. Friends on the Cadre. We are all minstrels and troubadours and street buskers. Singing each other home, calling each other into safe harbor. Be well. Take care of you and sing the others home.
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