By Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Tuesday mostly involved chores for me and half of them did not get done despite my best intentions. I have a bunch of chaos to deal with but on the scale of problems people I know are facing -- a couple in Florida STILL without power and several facing upheaval from the earthquake in Mexico and hurricane approaching Puerto Rico -- not worth detailing. In happy news, I got an invitation to the EX Raid on Thursday evening, but in unhappy news, it's right when Rosh Hashanah dinner should be ending so really lousy timing for American Jews.
We watched most of the Orioles game against the Red Sox, which was just as horrendous as it was the night before when the Orioles went into extra innings and proceeded to blow the game in humiliating style. That took up so much of the evening that we gave up on maybe starting any of the HBO shows that won Emmys and waited for Hillary Clinton on The Late Show (where Colbert annoyingly did not acknowledge why people were so upset about the Spicer stunt). Some photos of the art at Artsfest at Annmarie Gardens on Sunday: