I love stories about the animals who lead lives of humans,
who go about their lives in a parallel universe that makes
our lives more fun. Not just for children’s books, we find
ways to simplify being adults in these stories/poems/ books.
So, very early on a Sunday morning, look at how it sometimes works:
The university gave me a new, elegant
classroom to teach in. Only one thing,
they said, You can’t bring your dog.
It’s in my contract, I said. (I had
made sure of that)
We bargained and I moved to an old
classroom in an old building. Propped
the door open. Kept a bowl of water
in the room. I could hear Ben among
other voices barking, howling in the
distance. Then they would all arrive —
Ben, his pals, maybe an unknown dog
or two, all of them thirsty and happy.
They drank, the flung themselves down
among the students. The students loved
it. They all wrote thirsty, happy poems.”
………….MARY OLIVER, from her book, Dog Songs.
I’d say that’s a formula for success.
I picked up a small book that has been hidden among
other books, waiting to be noticed.
I say that with a smile because I have felt unnoticed often in this extraordinary life
I am living.
When I saw the author’s name, I prepared myself for some magic.
Magic, as in poetry, floats me away from a humdrum today. However,
here’s what I found instead:
“We all tend to make zealous judgements, and thereby
close ourselves off from revelation. If we feel we already
know something in its totality, then we fail to keep our ears
and eyes open to that which may expand or even change
that which we so zealously think we know.”
………MADELEINE L’ENGLE, from her book, Walking On Water,
Reflections on Faith & Art. 1980.
On the brink of 2015’s springtime, I cannot believe we are already
fifteen years into a new century. How has that happened?
Well, dear ones, it is through all the leaps, escaping bounds, that
I have zealously embraced as being ‘the truth’, time and time again,
that I can find the freedom of a ‘now’.
always with love,
During those March,’15 days of snow, pause,…
more snow !…
I noticed a pattern in the melting
water from that snow that poured down a slant
across the parking lot where I live.
Sort of the way I walk down any slope, in a crossing
fashion that lessens the danger of plunging out of control.
So, when I opened a book of poetry this morning,
lo and behold, nature had found another way to notice
how water falls. Take a look:
by the randomness
of the way
the rocks tumbled
the water pours
ever along the slant
dashing its silver thumbs
against the rocks
or pausing to carve
a sudden curled space
where the flashing fish
splash or drowse
while the kingfisher overhead
rattles and stares
and so it continues for miles
this bolt of light,
its only industry
and to be beautiful
while it does so;
as for purpose
there is none,
it is simply
one of those gorgeous things
that was made
to do what it does perfectly
and to last,
as almost nothing does,
…………MARY OLIVER, from her book,
Blue Horses, 2014
We can say that word, ‘forever’, can’t we,
as the heart wants to know it.
always with love,