It’s March, so, yeah, this again.
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It’s the promise of life
It’s the joy in your heart
Dear, sweet, lovely, Maine. You’re so screwed.
“After that it got pretty late, and we both had to go, but it was great seeing Annie again.”
We want the tippy-top of what we can get—why shouldn’t we? And we want to push those boundaries.
That, to a large extent, is why we live here. It’s not because we wanted to settle down with the patient and reliable plod-along schmo, and have babies and live in a three-bedroom house with a two-car garage where we peaceably grill in the summer and make casseroles in winter until we die. It’s not because we wanted our lives charted out before we lived them.”
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginably You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Today in adorable emails from Mom:
BIG excitement here … a rare (to Maine) Varied Thrush has been coming to our backyard feeders. It has created quite a stir in the Maine birdwatching groups, so apparently in those circles I am now famous.
I shouldn’t love this but I do.
Yes, in fact, I WILL be staying forever!
Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.
The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.
That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.”
A stick, a stone,
It’s the end of the road
It’s the rest of a stump,
It’s a little alone.