Gratitude * Sunday
Sunday’s heartfelt tradition.
A time to slow down, to reflect, to be grateful.
A list of gratitudes, our gratefulness feeds one another.
Quoted from Taryn Wilson
Joining the Gratitude Sunday Tradition at Wooly Moss Roots.
Motes float on spring sun
rays streaming through warmed glass, light
reveals winter’s dust.
Time escaped me this week. In honor of Easter and Earth Day, times of spring renewal, I offer for your reading pleasure a pair of poems for April Poetry Month. The first prose poem was written in 1927 by Max Ehrmann, an American poet and lawyer, on “things desired”. Renewal is sometimes about desire. For those of you who like to hear poetry, listen to Leonard Nimoy read, or if you prefer a British accent here’s Richard Burton. Fun to listen and read at the same time as well. Though these words are nearly one hundred years old, I think they are still pertinent.
Go placidly among the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,
even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others you may become vain and bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exert caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Especially, do not feign affection,
Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit, to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe in unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful. Strive to be happy.
Since Portland, Oregon (Queen of Green) is becoming the West Coast capitol of the newest and most innovative writers and poets, and in the spirit of keeping Portland weird, and because it is a great example of parody and just plain freaking funny, I give you this poem written in 1980 after Mount St Helens spent March and April 1980 quaking and heating up the north face of the volcano, finally blowing out her top on May 18. I love that we think of this mountain in the feminine. Written by Wally Newman, my original framed copy of this poem has an honored place on my wall. The mountain spouted off secondary steam-blast explosions many times during the rest of 1980. One warm June evening the hubster and I were attending a Grateful Dead concert at the Portland Memorial Coliseum. While all the deadheads in town were enjoying the concert the mountain blew off a good plume blast; we left the concert to find the metro area covered with ash once again. The closing song: Fire on the Mountain. I was rather amused there were steam-blasts reported on my sister’s birthday in July and mine in October. And now, without further ado.
The Oregon Dryrotta
Go placidly among the volcanic ash and remember what peace there may be in carpooling. As far as possible be on good terms with your neighbors as often as the sun shines. Surround yourself with that which is pleasant, never holding onto more than an ounce of anything. Always plan on good weather, however, speak softly and carry a big umbrella. Be pure and clean and drink only that which is naturally brewed. Remember, you are a child of the Oregon Trail, pay not a sales tax and never litter. Be kind to the dull and ignorant for they shall inherit the city council chambers. Nurture your strength of spirit for you will need it when returning your empties. Never be cynical about love, for it is as perennial as the grass, though it gets burned once a year. Waste not your natural resources, and recycle your laundry. Be one with nature and take a possum to lunch. Be at peace with yourself and know the Cascades will be here tomorrow. Above all strive to stay dry. (This was found in a returnable bottle floating down the Willamette River).
Being a true Oregonian, born and bred, I love the rain, the gray skies, the sun, the green, the mild seasons, and all the community forward movements to save our earth. You, you, and yes, you too, are children of the universe, made of recyclable golden stardust.
Color Watch – blooming attractions in my neighborhoods this week – this is the week when the pink Chinese cherries bloom along one of the main streets in town, not a great picture but you get the idea; and here are the lovely pink blossoms; the yard with the pale yellow and purple shooting stars filled in a bit; two unidentified purple lovelies in cement pots; a pink rhododendron with a darker throat, looking like a pile of orchids; tree, moss, and tiny blue bells; my unruly grape vine in need of a professional pruning job; I’ve always thought of this red blossomed bush as hawthorne because the bush is thorny, but the pictures I find of hawthorne are white, so until I learn otherwise I will continue to think of it as hawthorne; a deep pink crab apple blossom, and the whole tree; and the promise of next week’s lilacs.
Currently Reading – The Asylum (2013, fiction) by John Harwood; Too High to Fail: Cannabis and the New Green Economic Revolution (2012, cannabis economics and politics) by Doug Fine; The Spark of Life: Electricity in the Human Body (2012, biology) by Frances Ashcroft; My Age of Anxiety: Fear, Hope, Dread, and The Search for Peace of Mind (2014, clinical psychology) by Scott Stossel. Yes, concurrently. Check out my From Me 2 U Book Review page.
This week I have been grateful for:
- Suffering only slightly with pollen allergies and not being whacked like most of my friends.
- The fresh green dewy earthy grassy smell outside in the mornings.
- Tiny, tidy, well cared for bungalows and World War Two tract houses.
- Open doors and fresh air.
- The pretty little purple viola that volunteered itself out of a crack in the driveway, near my front door to greet my eyes morning and evening.
- The scent of lilies in all the grocery stores I shopped at this weekend.
- Holding in my heart some prayers for a family who this week lost a young family member at far too young an age through a tragic error. I will gratefully carry the sadness of this event in my heart. In memory of their kind and loving family.
- An older friend who was in a fender bender, who by her own report is healing nicely and not too much worse for the wear.
- Getting a tiny corner cleaned; now I can see from my desk to the dining area, previously obscured by a tall dusty pile of paperwork now removed to filing cabinet and recycle bin.
- Poetry. Prose. Lyrics.
Hoping you have a lovely week.
Namaste. Peace. Blessings.
Ribbon border by Laurel Burch