Sunday, July 5, 2020

WInter Wind

whipped blown groan gusts
wheezing shudders shivers
shingles tremble quiver
through cracks creak
draft waft blasts rushes
window rattles rumble
door lurches wobble

dark room reels cover up 
wrapped warm draft defying
sleep fails--hear, here there
thundering tremor rolling 
engine roaring waves wake

SNOW

Quiet--
Then from still, grey skies
snow—I watched all day
flying, drifting, floating
settling on bare winter branches, cedar and spruce
green grass patches and spent brown fields.

My father caught frozen flakes
set them under a microscope.
Look! each a masterful design

All day--snow fall--
By evening, over the earth
one even plane—pure white cover

A blanket of tiny crystal stars


Monday, May 4, 2020

ADVENT

I watch you, redbreast, perched at sunrise

on thinnest branch—atop the birch

wavering in the brightening breeze.


Again and again you take flight

a short distance

a fool’s errand

an awful sound—the thumping

against my window.


Back to lime-leafed safety you wing.

Then once more 

lift off into your reflection. 

Is it mate or nesting place you seek?


It’s spring—all must be readied,

shreds of dried grass, tinsel bits and twigs

woven into high-hung homes

sheltering pale blue eggs.


Soon, you will find mate, build cradle,

settle into your creation

waiting through tender nights.


A quiet advent


I know not where it will be—or when

tiny fissure first, then downy chicks

reaching up, beaks open in soft chirps

all hidden from our eyes.


But it will be—this spring

one of many hallowed births 

through meadow and wood.


And all must be readied.

Saturday, April 18, 2020

DARK MOON



Through our time on the planet, we develop perspectives on life from our experiences, and from our thought and feeling lives. Some of having more fully informed perspectives; others more dimly sensed; some able to articulate their perspective, others not. Whether on the surface or buried within, it seems of crisis or turmoil, we review, re-imagine, reshape and transform our outlook—and may make changes, based on that review. Our perspectives, lighter or darker in mood and meaning bring comfort or pain, bind us together, inspire us, or may isolate  or haunt us.

In adolescence we begin to form our perspective on life, to create our “map of the world.” As we continue to observe and learn about the world and ourselves, the topography shifts, expanding or circumscribing boundaries. We begin to look fondly on a happy childhood,  recalling those carefree, innocent years. We may remember a garden where roses grew the summer long, and begin to realize how unaware we were then of threats of thorn, blight, or how quickly they fade. We may have not such wonderful recollections of our youthful years. Nevertheless, when we begin to consider our "map", it’s the things we don’t see that may be the most important. If there has been trauma in our early years, we may be in denial about it and our memories bring only confusion, pain and/or shame, often eclipsing the normally-anticipated joys of coming of age and our adjustment to adulthood.
Whether joyful or mournful, memories come unbidden, their moods and meanings woven into life's tapestry, beautifully formed or misshapen, brilliant glimmers or dark shadows. At times of crisis or great change, we may reflect on our perspective whether imagined as a map or tapestry. In doing so, we then may decide to just live in the present and imagine the future. 
     The year 2020 brought a time of uncertainty, of precautions and restrictions to quell the spread of the Covid pandemic. There was confusion and changing information almost daily. There was fear and then doubt with a president and others who minimized the dangers and/or denied in some cases that there really was a pandemic at all,  ignoring the science and smearing the experts with lifelong experience and expertise in epidemiology.  Thousands filled hospitals and thousands were dying each day, challenging to the max doctors and healthcare workers. Often ill loved ones were not able to have family around in the hospital or at their burials. While many people were able to work from home, other essential service workers risked, and sometimes lost their lives to remain at their jobs, and school children began learning remotely, at disadvantage socially and academically. 
    We were at a standstill in our ability to meet and gather with others for social, cultural events and activites, or other “normal” situations. Life as we knew it had stopped short, and we found ourselves isolated in place with neither any sense of when, how, nor if it would end and what lay beyond. Some of us experienced situational depression and anxiety (or existing conditions were exacerbated). All we could do was hope and pray that family and friends would remain well. There was gratitude for selfless service of health care, and other essential workers, and inspiration from many acts of kindness and compassion. We were saddened to hear tributes about family member lost, and of the grief of their suviving family, as the death rate climbed into the hundreds of thousands at home and millions worldwide. Those unaffected phyically were gratful to escape Covid itself, and the for the variety of ways were able to remain in touch during our isolation. Virtual human warmth on Zoom, FaceTime or texts, our methods of communicating to expressing common concerns and experiences with friends and family.
     Almost as soon as we became aware of the national emergency came that doubt and  denials, resistance to precautions to prevent further Covid cases. It was one thing to have the uncertainty and confusion at the beginning, but quite another to have the U.S. President deny that it was a problem at all or worese yet an invented hoax to further divide an already divided nation, saying it would go away, "just like that." Well, we are still dealing with Covid in less intense and isolating ways, but it has not gone away.  There was an obvious and harmful failure of national leadership to address the pandemic in any coherent, consistent wayu to affirm and follow the guidance based on data, research from those most knowledgable about disease and global pandemics. 
    Instead, we were asked to trust and believe a president who mentioned many times that he makes decisions on his gut feelings. Later we found from a video taped interview that he knew the danger and purposely played it down (saying it doesn't exist or over before it had taken its toll. But that is another story.
  Many of us may have formed the perspective that life is too often a “rock and hard place.” We are not in control as we sometimes believe or wish ourselves to be. Although we continue to responsibly prioritize and plan anyway, all the while we must be prepared that ultimately our plans may be thwarted by any number of reasons and realities. Now we are living that truth as never before, more or less affected based on various factors: our age, experience, frame of reference, predisposition, attitude and personality, anxiety and fear, or complete denial.  We see at least unified in the common experience of uncertainty and falling away of norms of all kinds.  Surprisingly, some of us “sheltering at home” to avoid the spread of the virus, to “flatten the curve,"  have become aware that, at least, this slowed, more manageable pace of life is not at all bad in and of itself.
We have time and opportunity to reflect, sort out our perspective, take out our worn out map and review where we were, where we are and where we would like to/need to be when we when/if we finally emerge. Whether or not we like it, we cannot help sensing our inner thoughts, feelings and memories more than ever, which can also induce anxiety, if we have been skimming the surface of life, distracted by overbooked, whirlwind days; pushing down thoughts and feelings, reacting to circumstances--rather than initiating them (which is probably most of us).
Now is the time to reflect: “If a man does not master his circumstances, then he is bound to be mastered by them” (Towles , A Gentlemen in Moscow).
I find myself more active in both thinking and feeling these days, more nostalgic, more thoughtful, more emotional—floods of memories, sadness, gratitude all a blurry mix. The memories are not of times long past, rather within a year's when I was making plans to travel, have friends over, go to dinner with my husband, participate in our granddaughter’s second birthday and enjoy a visit from our son and family on Easter and so much more! 
     I am not alone—ordinary, everyday lives everywhere were crammed brimful with the bustle of living.  Although not long ago, it all seems very far away, in between worry that we may lose family or friends to this deadly virus.  
     Even if I, or no one I know personally is brought down by the virus, there is still the sad knowledge that everyone is vulnerable, as millions have been ill worldwide and probably millions will or have died of the Covid19 pandemic. There is a feeling of connection to others throughout the world, so that even in isolation there is no separation.

     Everything has changed!

Thinking about the past, present, and imagining the “after” of this crisis, seems to me to have extraordinary, almost super-sensible aspects, and I wonder what it means—not only for me and my family, but also for America and the world. Is the global spread of this illness and death another Noah’s arc? A purge—not as punishment, but an outer manifestation of humanity’s inner “soul state”? Is it a moment of grace for some in the midst of a tragedy for many? Is it a wake up call to care for an ailing earth as well as for one another? Do we need to deeply consider and fully realize things will never be the same—more importantly, that things have to be different? We have already seen that the absence of traffic, travel and business has essentially cleansed the environment of noise and air pollution and thereby reduced symptoms of respiratory illness, and stress levels on Mother Earth and on humans (probably on all living things). How is it that there can be a redistribution of resources for health and welfare in this crisis, but those who have suffered in desperate situations prior to this can be ignored, turned away, caged and forgotten? What are we learning and will we apply it?  How do we redraw our individual, as well as a national/world map to portray life as it could be beyond the crisis? Can we, should we, will we ever “go back” to how things were? Will we master our circumstances or will we allow them to master us?
It seems a principle, both individually and historically that once we leave one condition behind, or it is interrupted for whatever reason, there is no “going back.” Even if that were possible, it seems to me a seismic shift like a pandemic demands reflection and creative choices from all and in all directions of life? “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference (Frost “The Road Not Taken”).
     Since we must go forward, wouldn’t it be wise and wonderful to go toward something new, something better, or at least different, based on what has been experienced, learned and long-wished for and/or much needed? We are left to imagine what we will do and how, and to consider that when we individuals make changes, even in small ways, everything around us also changes. When the old falls away—from war, natural disaster, social turmoil, or in our personal lives from the weight and ware of our illusions (in this case, a pandemic) something new can come into being.
We have only to look to the rhythms of nature: the seasons and the heavens: Each month the moon wanes to a sliver of silver light fading to dark new moon…then waxes to a brilliant full rising. So it is in all of life! Will we as individuals, and more widely, as towns, states, and nations (since there is no separation): rethink, reimagine and transform our maps into something more healthful for mind, body and soul, more human, more beautiful and able to sustain our common needs, our rights, and our planet?

Life is defined not by what we let go, but what we let in….
(Call the Midwife Season 9, Episode 2)

Wednesday, February 26, 2020

EQUINOX

Finally—

the sun warm and golden

new leaves tender on greening branches


the cold winter in my bones ached

the coming of darkness every evening closed my heart

then endless rain, more cold

                       Why?

And I said I wouldn’t complain.


I wonder less often what purpose my life serves

as I move more slowly—even in the warmth.

becoming the dullness of winter

the fullness of summer.


How vain and small such musings seem to me now!


Two things keep me from sadness:

the small pink, perfect cherry blossoms

each year they appear

fragrant and pure

            and

the sun’s arc moving toward a mid-summer sky.

Monday, February 24, 2020

COVES




















The coves quiet in the cold
A few gulls sweep the blue air

The wild sea flows from the horizon

It does not matter now-- 

the chaos we have wrought--
losses suffered, 
changes to come
cannot touch, taint the heart of things:
the quiet, the blue, the flow, the deep

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

EVERYTHING AND NOTHING


Excerpt from The Harvard Crimson on Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1996):
The essence of life and the universe to Borges is an inexplicable maze, a labyrinth: "I have only my perplexities to offer you. I am nearing seventy, I have given the major part of my life to literature, and I can only offer you--doubts." He values the innumerable philosophies that he knows, not as solutions to the enigma--for it is not solvable--but as esthetically enjoyable constructs.....No man has a fixed identity.... In the parable, "Everything and Nothing," Borges describes Shakespeare exhausting all the guises of reality, unable to perceive any "fundamental identity of existing." The last paragraph imagines the playwright's final awareness. (Davis 1967)


Everything and Nothing 
by Jorge Luis Borges

There was no one inside him, nothing but a trace of chill, a dream dreamt by no one else behind the face that looks like no other face (even in the bad paintings of the period) and the abundant, whimsical, impassioned words. He started out assuming that everyone was just like him; the puzzlement of a friend to whom he had confided a little of his emptiness revealed his error and left him with the lasting impression that the individual should not diverge from the species. At one time he thought he could find a cure for his ailment in books and accordingly learned the "small Latin and less Greek" to which a contemporary later referred. He next decided that what he was looking for might be found in the practice of one of humanity's more elemental rituals: he allowed Anne Hathaway to initiate him over the course of a long June afternoon. In his twenties he went to London. 
     He had become instinctively adept at pretending to be somebody, so that no one would suspect he was in fact nobody. In London he discovered the profession for which he was destined, that of the actor who stands on a stage and pretends to be someone else in front of a group of people who pretend to take him for that other person. 
     Theatrical work brought him rare happiness, possibly the first he had ever known–but when the last line had been applauded and the last corpse removed from the stage, the odious shadow of unreality fell over him again: he ceased being Ferrex or Tamburlaine and went back to being nobody. Hard pressed, he took to making up other heroes, other tragic tales. While his body fulfilled its bodily destiny in the taverns and brothels of London, the soul inside it belonged to Caesar who paid no heed to the oracle's warnings and Juliet who hated skylarks and Macbeth in conversation, on the heath, with witches who were also the Fates.
     No one was as many men as this man: like the Egyptian Proteus, he used up the forms of all creatures. Every now and then he would tuck a confession into some hidden corner of his work, certain that no one would spot it. Richard states that he plays many roles in one, and Iago makes the odd claim: "I am not what I am." The fundamental identity of existing, dreaming, and acting inspired him to write famous lines.
      For twenty years he kept up this controlled delirium. Then one morning he was overcome by the tedium and horror of being all those kings who died by the sword and all those thwarted lovers who came together and broke apart and melodiously suffered. That very day he decided to sell his troupe. Before the week was out he had returned to his hometown: there he reclaimed the trees and the river of his youth without tying them to the other selves that his muse had sung, decked out in mythological allusion and latinate words. He had to be somebody, and so he became a retired impresario who dabbled in money-lending, lawsuits, and petty usury. 
     It was as this character that he wrote the rather dry last will and testament with which we are familiar, having purposefully expunged from it every trace of emotion and every literary flourish. When friends visited him from London, he went back to playing the role of poet for their benefit.

      The story goes that shortly before or after his death, when he found himself in the presence of God, he said: "I who have been so many men in vain want to be one man only, myself." The voice of God answered him out of a whirlwind: "Neither am I what I am. I dreamed the world the way you dreamt your plays, dear Shakespeare. You are one of the shapes of my dreams: like me, you are everything and nothing."

EPIGRAPH

Epigraph in Time and Tide: a collection of tales

Parts of me are missing
I don’t know what they are
or where to look for them
I only sense the gaps
that keep me from wholeness

Standing under the stars that night
tide coming in, wind blowing--restless
preferring the familiarity of my small room
I was reminded of what I can not name

I fold the laundry
wash out the green glass
sweep the leaves from my doorway
put everything in its place

Except fragments of my Self
out there somewhere
in time and tide
or within—so near
deeper than I can reach

Thursday, December 5, 2019

EMPTY BOTTLES











In a closet rarely opened—
            bottles—
found on a dark back shelf

Waiting among a vase, a tin, a basket
to be used for… something, sometime
soon to be held again... 
by someone, somewhere

Looking at empty bottles
filling them with questions
about time and memories .

Imagining letting go


Tuesday, August 13, 2019

BETRAYAL

I want to write about betrayal. What of it? What is it? How do we live with it? In Dante's "Inferno," it is the greatest sin relegated to the lowest level of hell, where Lucifer is trapped in ice for all eternity. He flaps his wings to free himself, which traps him even more firmly. In his mouth he eternally gnaws on Judas Iscariot, Brutus and Cassius--others who betrayed their masters.
    Obviously, Dante considered betrayal a"sin." Though "sin" has religious associations, it can be understood as essentially a transgression which crosses what was thought of as an inviolable boundary. Betrayal can be thought of as the greatest degree of transgression, for no matter how justified, when all is said and done, there is always collateral damage which can reverberate for the betrayed—sometimes for the rest of their lives. One can feel betrayal only if there was love and trust, and a stated or perceived commitment involved. Betrayal breaks that trust and retracts the commitment.
    It has been said that the only thing a betrayer ultimately betrays is his conscience (Joseph Conrad). That is assuming the betrayer has a conscience—sometimes yes, sometimes no. The betrayer may feel there is no other choice, circumstances have changed and he will become what has imagined only if he casts aside a vow or the one person who has trusted and loved him to the point of being vulnerable. Loving is vulnerability. Nevertheless, betrayal is a kind death, perhaps to both the betrayer and the betrayed, but for the betrayed it is the death of trust and of hope, that “thing with feathers, that perches on the soul” (Emily Dickinson). For the betrayed it may feel like and can be a death of the soul or the ability to trust anyone and anything again.
    Looking from another perspective, Barbara Kingsolver notes that "Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side."  Salvation for the betrayer and maybe even for the betrayed--a paradox. The betrayer may feel he had no choice but to do the thing he had to do, while the betrayed may come to see what the reality had been all along, or what part he may have played in the inevitable--enabling or giving power to another, and that the answers to “why?” and “how?” were there all along. The betrayed's trust might have been misplaced with a person ultimately incapable of commitment, loyalty or sacrifice? And who of us can say for certain that, under certain circumstances, we might also find ourselves incapable?
    And who truly knows the nature and implications of betrayal? Except in one case—one of the most well-known betrayals which Dante included in his Divine Comedy-- that of Judas Iscariot (for a few silver coins). Here the paradoxical circumstances are clear: a predestined fate for both. Judas Iscariot was an unknowing instrument in betrayal, setting into motion the foretold and inevitable deed, sentencing his friend and teacher to death. On the other side of Judas’s betrayal was said to be salvation for humanity and redemption for the original sin of disobedience in the Garden of Eden, as the story goes. Of course, the rebellion of Lucifer after creation is also a well-known in Judaeo-Christian story, also an analogy to human compromises we make for control and independence, as Lucifer states in Milton's Paradise Lost. "Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven." Both Judas/Christ and the God/Lucifer betrayals are paradoxes, and perhaps most betrayals are.
    Unfortunately, or fortunately (and maybe also foretold and inevitable) in our own mortal stories, neither betrayer nor betrayed sees or fully understands the nature of the betrayal, neither the paradoxes nor the consequences which may, in the end, be "for the best" bringing about some greater good and further the purpose of being human: consciousness.
    Nevertheless, the betrayed must endure the pain and suffering of i and sometimes other experiences its collateral damage of the betrayal
The real question is, will the betrayed also be able to say, as Christ did on the cross of his betrayers, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do."