Believe It Or Not

Claire came home, 
went up to her room, 
and wrote a poem. 


Trust me, this is not a daily thing. Most days, she heads straight for the tv and the big green chair, hoping to catch a cooking show or if I'm out of the room, Housewives of Orange County. 


Why?she asks, when I say change the channel.
It's interesting, Mom, she tells me. Great characters.


My kid knows I'm a sucker for great characters.


But today, the notebook won out. 


She came into the kitchen.
"I wrote a poem,"she said, "Do you want to hear it?"
"Absolutely,"I said,"But I'm curious?"
"About?"
"Did you just decide to come home and write a poem, or had you been thinking about it?"
"I was thinking about another one while I was in school but it didn't turn out, so I wrote this."
"That's pretty neat. Okay, let's hear it."


War by Claire Collins


War is ugly
War is bad
It's starting to make
me very mad
I'm getting sick
of all the pain
I must stop the
tears from falling like
rain. We need to escape
all the guns and the bombs
All this hate, all those lies
No one lives, everyone dies
God, please cure
the bad and the mean.
This is war. Believe it or not.


On this Flag Day...


Remembering our service people far away from home and all people everywhere who are in the midst of the bad and the mean.

In The Long Light

Claire and I sat out in the yard, tossing the baseball backwards over our heads for Chewy, resting after a full afternoon of playing with Elizabeth, more weeding and mulching, and then a frenzy of let's rearrange the house. 


More restlessness?


Yes.


Claire had her 5th grade end of year celebration which means come September she'll move on to middle school which is probably why I came home and had to move more feelings so...


When Jesse came to get Elizabeth I enlisted her to help me move my writing table BACK upstairs into Dad's room/my old writing room and vacuumed and tossed things. Claire and I managed to muscle Dad's chair into her room (until he wants to claim it)...so it was a moving things, clearing the cobwebs, re-claiming space day.


And then, a sit in the long light.

A Whole Bunch Of Feelings

When in doubt 
(and feeling restless), 
get your pitchfork, 
& personal John Deere driver, 
I don't have to mulch, do I, Mom?
and pile up five wagon loads 
full of fresh wood chips, 
courtesy of thoughtful son-in-law, 
spread around yard. 


Move a muscle, 
Move a whole bunch of feelings ~

Here, Have Some More

Giving is receiving
Giving is receiving
Giving is receiving
Breathe
Here, have some
Here, have some more.


- from BE GENEROUS by David Marell

Without Even Knowing It

I wasn't looking for another book. 


Scout's honor. 


Actually, I'd been practicing not reading as much because it felt like there was stuff stuck in my neck, between my head and heart. I was jammed.


"Maybe you need some time to digest," Neeny gently suggested, "maybe read one meditation book a day, instead of three. And then there's all the other things you read. Pick one."


This was not easy for me. 


I've always believed that books drop into my lap just when I need them, like today, when Elizabeth and I went to the library for a quick look. Nothing caught my eye on the shelf and then, The Fifth Agreement; a small book, easy to hold, the cover all golds and blues and greens. 


I checked it out. 


Elizabeth and I came home and ate walnuts at the kitchen table.  We sorted through the bag of smooth, round stones I'd discovered in the back of my car. 


Magic Martha's Vineyard stones.


"Would you like these?" I asked, eyeing an amber stone.
"Yes, Bean."


bag of stones + Elizabeth = contented child 


Then, this gift, from page 30:


Who is talking in your head? You make the assumption that it's you. But if you are the one who is talking, then who is listening? You, knowledge, are the one who is talking in your head, telling you what you are. You, the human, are listening, but you, the human, existed long before you had knowledge. You existed long before you understood all those symbols, before you learned to speak, and just like any child before he or she learns to speak, you were completely authentic. You didn't pretend to be what you are not. Without even knowing it, 


you trusted yourself completely; 


you loved yourself completely.


-from The Fifth Agreement by don miguel ruiz and his son, don jose ruiz.

I liked All Of It

Dear Ms. Jackson,


I liked all of it.


Sal 


Simple and to the point...Thanks, Sal!


- a student evaluation from a recent artist-residency

One Evening

"The solution to my life occurred to me one evening while I was ironing a shirt."


- Alice Munro