The Tide Rises

the tide falls

When I was in 9th grade, and just leaving the tumult that was middle school, after having attended a very small Catholic school for my elementary years, I was lucky to have an English teacher who had us memorize and recite many poems.

She was freewheeling. Someone who taught us about the impact of art and poetry, and care of the soul, though I’m sure she never used that word exactly. (We are talking about public school here.) But that’s what her class really was about.

She was very outspoken about conventions, and following your own path.

I vividly remember that she told us, during one particularly challenging year of her life, that she wrote Thoreau’s quote, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,” into every single Christmas card she sent out.

No teacher, I had encountered, and certainly not in Catholic school, ever said something like that before.

She made me feel a little less alone in the world.

She was a great model for when to follow the rules— and when to break them. She showed us how to go our own path and how to bend the rules….without getting in big trouble along the way.

I appreciated all of it.

It was a lesson in authenticity and courage.

She had us memorize the famous lines from Walden that I still think about all the time:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life.”

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Something she told us that always stuck with me, was that at her funeral, she wanted everyone to read Longfellow’s famous poem, “The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls.”

I thought, and still think, that is beautiful.

When I die, I’d like that too.

A collection of voices rising up into the air.

And the tide rises.
The tide falls.

That has been the thread of my life, and something I live by.

I’m sharing that poem with you here today…

Because it’s a good one for leaning into darkness and change. At least it has been for me.

It’s a really nice poem to read aloud. I love the sounds.

A video of me reading it is below if you’d like to hear it— or if you’d prefer to read— the text is below as well.

The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

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What poem do you think of in dark times? Let others know so they might enjoy as well! 💖

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Love,
Rhonda Linn


P.S. Mark your calendars for the following Breadcrumbs In Darkness special live events (for paid members.) (Sessions will be recorded + sent out within 24 hours.)

Yoga Nidra -
Sunday, November 24, 7:00 pm Eastern
Yoga Nidra is a deeply restful practice. It’s done lying down and you’ll experience a supportive guided visualization. (I’ll share more about my own experience with yoga nidra in the days to come.)

Closing Celebration-
Saturday, December 7, 9:30 am Eastern (check your timezone here.)
Reflection, connection, and celebrating our journey together!

Upgrade to any paid tier if you’d like to join us live (or enjoy the recordings.)