Gregory Orr – How Beautiful The Beloved

This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.

No other world
But this one:
Willows and the river
And the factory
With its black smokestacks.

No other shore, only this bank
On which the living gather.

No meaning but what we find here.
No purpose but what we make.

That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:
Turn me into song; sing me awake.

~ Gregory Orr (How Beautiful the Beloved)

Sunflower

When he looks at her
His face fills up with joy
And affection
And respect
And tender appreciation
For all that she is and does
He angles his body towards her
In any photo, he is near her
When I first said this,
Others said I must be wrong
That I didn’t understand
That he couldn’t be feeling what I thought
Acting as I thought
As I was sure he was
But I know these mannerisms
That look of love
And awe
And profound ease
Because he wore it with me in the first years of our marriage
He stopped showing me this face
Removed it, as though it were a mask
And turned himself towards her.
She is now the sun
And he the sunflower
And I am the diminished
Darkened face of the moon
On a cloudy, starless night.

Copyright © 2015 C. Mitchell

Poetry Month, Day 27: Fleeting

Fleeting

Life’s web of relationships 
And its exigencies 
Dependency and needing
Worrying and wanting
Waiting or escaping
All made valid by the smile
The clasp of a hand
The warm moment of connection
When you 
And another soul
Are miraculously,
Unbelievably
Together in the same place
At the same time
Both of you present
And
Together
Before the moment,
Inexorable as moments are, 
Slips away like a hat caught in the breeze
Dancing off to a new place
A new connection
To be worn by two other
Fleetingly attached
Souls.

Tolkien Reading Day

To celebrate Tolkien Reading Day, I read one of his non-Middle Earth works, “Roverandom”, a short story about a dog. It was charming, although not at all in the style of the Silmarillion, my favorite… But there were, as always with Tolkien, so many beautifully written passages that I could see it all, as though it were unfolding in front of me. 

It’s always lovely to read something new (to me) by an old favorite. Thank you, sir.

Woke from a dream

This morning, I woke from a dream with a simple resolution and promise to myself:

I will never again “try to make it work” with people who aren’t eagerly and actively also committed in this common endeavor.

Friends, loved ones, business associates (although you have to be a bit more elastic in business, but there’s a limit), everyone. 

I am becoming comfortable in my own skin and I don’t need anyone here with me unless he or she has something to contribute that’s positive and sourced in love.

Period.

And if this sounds like a manifesto (womanifesto?), then yes!  ❤

Narratives

So, I was going to write more frequently, and that didn’t happen. :\ Sorry… Here’s what’s going on in my head these days.

I’m really trying hard not to write self-pitying narratives (or angry narratives, or whatever construct comes up) about my life right now. With everything that went down in 2013 – early 2014, I created a massive narrative and it calcified, gained weight, and pressed me pretty much flat for a bit. And I was getting tired of carrying it around, to be frank… it was a lot to support.

So I’m trying to be more present in the moment, and whenever I find myself building a story about my life — and that’s really what WP was about, for me, a place to tell these stories — I stop myself and try to release whatever emotional damage I’m doing to myself at that moment. I try to *not* build another intricate but heavy flying buttress onto the cathedral of All That Shit That Was Last Year. And it seems to be working.

I’m lighter, less burdened. Less unwieldy. Sleep comes more easily, because my brain isn’t running as many circles around itself and its embedded despair. I’m more able to enjoy small moments of serendipity. All of this is great. However… I’ve always been a small-time raconteur, the Girl With The Story. And now, I’m just the girl floating down the river.

No story. Just me, existing.

It’s a little strange, to be honest. I’m not sure I was meant to be quite this Zen. I may have to find a happy medium. — On the other hand, what was this year about if not redefining myself? (You can’t see me right now, but I’m striking a Freudian pose and stroking my non-existent goatee. It’s attractive. snicker)

So I may need to figure out what to do as people ask me “how was your weekend?” and, instead of launching into a story about someone’s bra becoming a boomerang during a wedding ceremony, I simply say, “Fine” and smile at them happily… then awkward silence ensues. lol Oops. Sorry. I was supposed to do my trick there, wasn’t I? 😀 Well, why don’t you tell me a story? I’m all ears. (and Freudian goatee. I may have to get one, because seriously people. I love having an imaginary one. And the faux German accent is tits. Tits, I tell you.)