Sunday, February 23, 2020

Looking for the Good

It's Sunday evening and there are so many things I could have done today that I didn't.  I didn't send any notes to anyone for no reason than just to say hi. I did not go outside and take a walk, looking up at the clouds or tree tops.  Other than to get out and drive to yoga, I went no place else.  I read maybe 4 or five poems this morning. I journaled around 2:30 a.m. when my mind raced, chased by anxiety throughout the house. 

A number of things have rolled through my mind throughout the day.  Why I am not writing this very moment?  What should I or could I write about. Where is my muse? Where. has she been - I've not seen her for a very long time.

Cathy came home from work today sick and she is heavy on my mind because I recently went through a stretch of being sick with some upper respiratory sickness that really kicked my butt.  I don't want her to go through the same thing.  I offered her  as my intention for my yoga practice today.  She is resting now, and that is likely what she needs most.

Earlier in the day, I was thinking. a lot about the upcoming AWP conference. I always get  anxious as it gets closer.  I will likely have bouts of anxiety daily between now and the time I leave.  Also, on my mind today. is Ash Wednesday that is approaching. What will I give up for lent? Will I give up anything?  Will I substitute some proactive thing to do instead?

It warmed up quite a bit today and that seems heavy on me in that I missed lots of opportunity to see the beauty in things.  I bet my muse was out taking in nature. I'm like, Bitch where are you? She be like, where you should be.

Two final thoughts,  I watched the Mr Rogers movie, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood this week (this may be the subject of a full post later).  There was also a few lines shared with us a Yoga tonight about leaving the small fights for small fighters. These two things are centering. They are simple but challenge me to think good thoughts, positive thoughts.

With that, I'm going to sign off a write a bit because it's barely 8:30, and because I can.

Saturday, February 08, 2020

The Order of Species and Poets

One morning this week (the exact day escapes me) I walked out to my car to leave for work and there were 4 of these creatures across the road grazing. They of course stopped and gave the look that says, Why are you all up in our business? There was also a woodpecker nearby pounding on a tree. This area is loaded with various critters. More often than not, they are blended into the surroundings.  For example, both in the evening, and even early morning hours there is a whoo-hoo  whoo-hoo.  This has been going on for a couple of months and I'd love to get my eyes on the Owl, but it hasn't happened yet.

As it started getting colder I started putting out suet for the birds. They are evidently quite pleased as I have to had to replace the suet every week and a half to two weeks. It's not in the best place for me to keep a casual eye on it without my interest being compromised. I may have to move it, if I am going to get any pictures or even good observation with. the naked eye.

If we surrendered to earth’s intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees.  - Rainer Maria Rilke

Nature has a poet's patience about it. Or, at least the presence poets should ascribe to. I try, really I do, but dammit  I really want to see that owl. 

I think man's relationship with nature has been long out of tilt. We have relied so much on it, too much I believe, and now the realization that we have unknowingly for years been withdrawing  too much from the natural bank account of this planet earth. Our very survival demands we are better stewards of our planet. Our ultimate strength is rooted like the trees in the dark of earthen soil. We must be co-habitants with nature. 

I drive onto the highway and head downtown. The skyline like a prism reflecting the sunlight rising in the east. Glass panels, concrete, metal girders, reflective spires all twinkling ahead. Yes, man's marvels. But, somewhere there is a strip mine. Somewhere, countless acres of forest have fallen in the name of progress. Paved streets and parking lots.

Gone are the Reunion Ibis, the the Black-Backed Bittern, Reunion Night-Heron and a slew of other bird species. In the past half-century there has been a 29% decline in birds in the U.S. and Candida. Once we lose birds, insects and other animals are impacted. So too is plant life. Some of this is not doubt related to climate change and migration disruption. 

Poets could do a whole anthology of elegies to birds who are no longer with us. 

Patiently, I await the sight of the owl that serenades me morning and night.