…
There are times I know
I would have been better off
not to speak
or rather
to speak
without words
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And it’s important to know which is which.”
Nowhere near the shape of summer I had hoped for, a lesson in expectations. I suppose that’s the downside of being able to envision, something so beautiful it’s hard not to hope. But I will hope. Still do.
now a time to walk with my own sense of life but a moment before moving on to be still… thanks for what has brought me here thanks for what is here may it be honoured in doing and in being
of saying goodbye to people, to places seldom by choice, these goodbyes but that’s part of what life is made of so… …being able to say goodbye well.
for life is Hey, friend, how’s your day? I hope you’re well and enjoying some of the spring we’re still having. Because it was delivered so early this year there was talk of it being taken back after a few days, but apparently it fits well enough we’ll keep it and wear it in a little bit. I know it’s really spring now because I finally noticed buds on the tree out front. Couldn’t miss them actually. I guess I’d been walking around with my head down, hadn’t looked up. There’s a lesson in there somewhere, eh? Had another lesson yesterday, I’m just not sure quite what it is yet. As you know, friend, I’m not a pack rat, I don’t care for collecting odd piles of things I just might use someday. I’ve walked with people who live like that and it makes me uncomfortable. It speaks of a sadness to me. Maybe that’s just me. No, I’m not a collector, but I am a bit of an archivist. Sometimes I surprise myself at what I’ve managed to hang on to. So I shouldn’t be too surprised that I ran across a pile of papers last night that looked odd at first, but turned out to be stacks of old tunes that I’d collected or people had asked me to learn over the decades, as well as instrumental arrangements from late in the last century, and even a few pieces I’d written something over thirty years ago. I was surprised I still had any of it. Even more that some of it actually wasn’t bad. There were also several songs from a few years ago, things I’d forgotten about completely, one or two of which I might actually re-learn just for amusement’s sake. Mind you I don’t know what to do with the arrangements for violin, oboe, flute and cello. I think I got the chance to hear them on real instruments exactly twice. Oh, and lyrics for the first two songs I ever wrote. How very strange yet typical that I could immediately hear the melody and the guitar part clearly and completely. Interesting to notice, too, that while the classic putdown of all young writing that it’s all about ‘me’, the first one was about Amos, a guy in South Africa who had climbed six floors up on a construction site to end his life while crowd gathered below chanting ‘jump, jump, jump’, and the second was about the end of the world from nuclear destruction. Of course, typical me, they’re barely recognizable in those terms. The first owes more to ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge‘ than any normal narrative structure, and the second is a whole ton of weird imagery flinging itself in all directions then returning to one person asking another what they saw when the world ended this morning. Y’know, I guess when you start there pretty much anything is possible. Maybe even inevitable. You see I tripped across the reminder that when it was first invented existentialism became a huge fad in the popular press which led philosophers to accuse the papers of getting it all wrong sacrificing meaning for the sake of business and here’s me thinking I’ll bet the reply was if the scholarly crowd wanted existential accuracy maybe they should go peddle their own Camus. D’ya think?
So, just for the record, it did snow on the first day of spring. Not much, and not long. And it certainly didn’t stick around. But there was snow. Hey friend, how’s your day? I hope you’ve had a taste of some of the wonderful weather we’ve been having lately. They tell me it’s the official start of spring this weekend, but it’s felt almost like summer the last couple of days. Even though I wasn’t able to get out as much as I would’ve liked, it’s been nice to have it fresh enough to open all the windows and feel the warm air. Nicer still to be able to hear kids playing around the neighbourhood, spring break and good weather made it all sound just enough like summer to make it feel even a couple of degrees warmer. What a pleasure. So although some of us are still taking bets as to whether we get another late snow storm, I think we can say that it’s looking like we made it through winter. We haven’t got the green haze on the trees yet, that first sign that there really will be leaves again at some point. But the cardinal and I are quite certain that spring is on its way. And both of us can hardly wait. Apparently more than one of us feels like singing. I don’t know if you’re the same, but spring always makes me think of changes. Not changes to dread, changes to look forward to. I have no idea what changes are in store this season, and frankly there are some real challenges ahead. But I think I’m looking ahead to positive change. And when it comes I hope I can be ready with open arms. After all life is change, no? Yeah, I’m ready. Wish me luck. |
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for poetry is not the words
Just a small postscript to thoughts of spring the other day. The day dawned a little cooler than the last few. A fair bit cooler actually. I was standing by the window taking in the complete lack of wind. Everything was so still. Then a single, tiny white feather fluttered down. How odd, I thought, I wonder how that came to be. And so small. A moment later another. Then another. Ah, I see.