Vigil

3 01 2013

Today, woke up and wrote this for Ray. There’s a lot wrapped up in it.

Vigil

Your breath

is my companion

in the still

space of night.

We traverse

dreams and darkness

by faith

not sight.

In the day,

we stall and stumble,

waste precious

air to fight.

Side by side,

it does not matter

who is wrong,

who is right.

Just your steady

respiration

helps me hold on

to the light.

 

What if there were a genuinely scientific faith, – an infinite, replicable, unassuming experimentation of the workings and evolution of love?





Keep right on to the end of the road

19 11 2012

Today, we are packing for a trip to Atlanta. We are traveling on Megabus for the first time to spend Thanksgiving with Ray’s brother, Tom, and our sister-in-law, Mary. It feels important to be with them and for Tom and Ray to be together and hold love for Beverly between them. We are glad to let someone else do the driving and to share our ride with others going back and forth for family and other purposes. A lot of the journey is very samey, sometimes you don’t seem to be getting anywhere, but moment to moment is so very good.





The Outdoor Living Section

23 09 2012

Seventh Day, we moved our glass topped table and attendant four chairs from the east facing dining room to the south-west facing porch. Much of my time during the school year is spent inside brick walls with only a slit of window upstairs and essentially none downstairs. I noticed I was dreading (the word is not too strong) grading this weekend, not because of the work, but because of being indoors again. Thus, my sainted husband assisted with the removal of our dining room table and I was cheerfully set up under the Hook Norton Brewery picture with papers spread all over enjoying the insights and inspirations of my childcare management students.

I spend a lot of time teaching the importance of sensory experience, yet so little time living it. Indoors is a head game, a world of electronic breath. Outside, even with temperature and humidity both above 80 as a storm builds, everything is open and dynamic. Sweat happens and cools. Children run, rain-soaked, up the street calling for a lost dog. Everything smells wonderful just after the rain. Everything smells.

So this is the beginning of the outdoor living section of this life, for real.





Bodies by Muffin

13 06 2012

 

 

 

 

Today, we interviewed man in the street, Ray Jenkins, about his favorite workout program, “Bodies by Muffin.” Moving smartly along Marks Street preceded energetically by Coach Muffin, an 11.5 lb miniature schnauzer sporting a cute pink harness, Mr. Jenkins stated that he has been in the program for three months and already lost five pounds somewhere between Irma Street and Magnolia Avenue. Asked what was the best thing about working out with Muffin, Mr. Jenkins responded unequivocally, “the companionship.” He added that his decision to work out with Muffin was the result of her highly persuasive word of mouth advertising campaign, particularly yelping at the window and yapping at the front door about all the exciting things to be seen during an outdoor workout compared to the typically dull gym program.  If you are planning to sign up for Muffin’s program, you need to know that she keeps up a good solid pace and you should be prepared for a healthy workout.

Like all great teachers, Coach Muffin has learned from her student. She now stops and sits at all curbs having determined that a vital part of good health is avoiding the wolf pack of SUVs tearing down Magnolia at 7:30 a.m. She’s also developed a calmer approach to the other coaches hanging out at Virgin Olive Cafe for their morning bowl of water. She is still finding squirrels a major distraction and indicates that they can really throw her off her game.

Now that school is out for summer, Muffin expects her client base to double, though it remains to be seen how committed her newest student is to fitness not fatness. She’s made a good start, but with only two days in the program, it’s too soon to tell whether she’ll make good on her early promise. We’ll have to take it one step at a time.





Good. Friday.

6 04 2012

Today, a poem from porch time.

 

The mockingbird who owns our street

sings hallelujahs, upshifts the beat,

scolds and startles, demands to be heard,

shapes each note as a winged word.

Springs in the air dressed for the dance,

flings notes higher, takes every chance

to extrapolate from this bright April eve

joie de vivre. Believe. Believe.





Getting Going Again

10 03 2012

Today, I planted two homestead tomatoes, one fancy little pepper that will turn many colors and spice up my life, a summer squash, and a cucumber, all from the gent who grows lovely plants on Weber Street. I also gave a collard green volunteer a second chance and started a very optimistic piece of our generous and enduring Christmas cactus. I noticed that Nancy H.’s Amaryllis are up to their annual astonishment, you can’t keep a good plant down, and Nancy B.s new gifts are looking very promising. Topaz greatly appreciated me sitting on the front sidewalk with her for some devoted time and Muffin was my backyard companion, chasing lizards in the ginger and sitting patiently beside me while I scooped soil into pots in the shadows of the barn. It felt so good to do whole body work.





Betwixt and Between

24 01 2012

Today I stood in my kitchen at 6:26 p.m. and suddenly pondered the fact that it was 11:26 p.m. in my sister’s house in Northamptonshire, where I hope she was tucked up for the night, and 3:26 p.m. in my daughter’s workplace in Oregon. It was a moment of large and unreasonable loneliness. So I went outside with our little dog, Muffin, to play, looked up to a twilight sky of Parrish blue, pink, and bouncy white and was just as instantaneously and unreasonably made whole again. Sometimes, it’s our inward light that centers us and sometimes, the light around us holds us steady.








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