Good morning, everyone! I have been doing a lot of walking, walking, walking with the pup. Yesterday, Sunday, I took the pup out to my dad’s old school and walked our typical walk through deep woods then a shorter hop out into an old orchard and back across the expanse of playing fields. This is a lovely loop, no matter what the time or weather. The woods look different every time—the light slants differently, the leaf cover is thinner, the colors have a narrower palette, etc. But this day, I wasn’t able to free my busy mind or to practice my breathing so that I am fully alert, listening, watching, and not doing too much thinking about anything but what’s right in front of me. Actually, I failed miserably. I fell into the age old argument I have with myself about what I’ve given up, what I haven’t accomplished, etc, etc, etc. Anyone know this conversation? It goes a bit like this: If I had stayed on the track I was on, I would be this, that, and the other thing, full of accolades and initials and articles after my name, and I would be receiving unparalleled admiration (and even a touch of jealousy) from friends and colleagues alike. I would have been much more than I am now had I just stayed put and continued my climb up the ladder. Yup, that’s the essence of it. The other side goes more like this: I moved off the traditional ladder initially because I got sick, but I didn’t jump right back on because in truth, it didn’t quite fit or fulfill me. I have actually become more, and learned much more, than I would have because of the difficult, wrenching fall off this beloved ladder, and because of all the work I’ve put in to understand who I am and how I want to use the rest of my life. While I believe the latter whole-heartedly most of the time, I still sometimes find myself caught up in the old argument again. At least now, I feel as if I take two steps forward for each step back, and not the reverse, but I clearly have not thrown off this old cloak of expectation and guilt for good. I will continue to work on it.
After emerging sweaty and frustrated from this argument and finding the adorable puppy again, I found myself humming. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was humming. But when I felt that flash of recognition, I doubled over in a fit of laughter. The dog thought I had completely lost it and took off after a chipmunk. There I was in the middle of the woods cracking myself up. This, my friends, is a very useful tool to have in your toolbag. Laughter is a wonderful thing, especially when you can crack yourself up all by yourself. It was Helen Reddy singing in my ear…..remember? One line of the song kept rebounding….”But I’m still an embryo, with a long, long way to go……”. Ok, I found the whole experience both deeply disturbing, and wildly funny. Of course Helen swoops in at this particular moment of vulnerability! Let’s do it together:
“Oh yes I am wise
But it’s wisdom born of pain
Yes, I’ve paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything.
I am strong (strong) I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman”
Good heavens, Helen Reddy. Never liked her or the song until yesterday, but ok, I get the message already. I am strong, I am invincible, I am Wissie! I am still laughing. So, how about some poetry?
Dharma (Billy Collins)
The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.
Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?
Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.
If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.
At Steak ‘n Shake I learned that if you add
“Bless their hearts” after their names, you can say
whatever you want about them and it’s OK.
My son, bless his heart, is an idiot,
she said. He rents storage space for his kids’
toys—they’re only one and three years old!
I said, my father, bless his heart, has turned
into a sentimental old fool. He gets
weepy when he hears my daughter’s greeting
on our voice mail. Before our Steakburgers came
someone else blessed her office mate’s heart,
then, as an afterthought, the jealous hearts
of the entire anthropology department.
We bestowed blessings on many a heart
that day. I even blessed my ex-wife’s heart.
Our waiter, bless his heart, would not be getting
much tip, for which, no doubt, he’d bless our hearts.
In a week it would be Thanksgiving,
and we would each sit with our respective
families, counting our blessings and blessing
the hearts of family members as only family
does best. Oh, bless us all, yes, bless us, please
bless us and bless our crummy little hearts.
“Bless their hearts” after their names, you can say
whatever you want about them and it’s OK.
My son, bless his heart, is an idiot,
she said. He rents storage space for his kids’
toys—they’re only one and three years old!
I said, my father, bless his heart, has turned
into a sentimental old fool. He gets
weepy when he hears my daughter’s greeting
on our voice mail. Before our Steakburgers came
someone else blessed her office mate’s heart,
then, as an afterthought, the jealous hearts
of the entire anthropology department.
We bestowed blessings on many a heart
that day. I even blessed my ex-wife’s heart.
Our waiter, bless his heart, would not be getting
much tip, for which, no doubt, he’d bless our hearts.
In a week it would be Thanksgiving,
and we would each sit with our respective
families, counting our blessings and blessing
the hearts of family members as only family
does best. Oh, bless us all, yes, bless us, please
bless us and bless our crummy little hearts.
Remember (Joy Harjo)
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her
in a bar once in Iowa City.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war
dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.
Remember that you are all people and that all people are you.
Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you.
Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember that language comes from this.
Remember the dance that language is, that life is.
Remember.
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her
in a bar once in Iowa City.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war
dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.
Remember that you are all people and that all people are you.
Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you.
Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember that language comes from this.
Remember the dance that language is, that life is.
Remember.
