Sunday Morning

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

Pat Schneider, The Patience of Ordinary Things, “Another River: New and Selected Poems


Notes: Poem – Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo: Colorinstantfilm

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call: Coffee!


Source: Mennyfox55

 

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

There’s strength in observing one’s miniaturization. That you are insignificant and prone to, and God knows, dumb about a lot. Because doesn’t smallness prime us to eventually take up space? For instance, the momentum gained from reading a great book. After after, sitting, sleeping, living in its consequence. A book that makes you feel, finally, latched on. Or after after we recover from a hike. From seeing fifteenth-century ruins and wondering how Machu Picchu was built when Incans had zero knowledge of the wheel. Smallness can make you feel extra porous. Extra ambitious. Like a small dog carrying an enormous branch clenched in its teeth, as if intimating to the world: Okay. Where to?

~ Durga Chew-Bose, from “Heart Museum” in Too Much and Not the Mood: Essays


Photo: Paul Nicol with Walk Softly. Carry a Big Stick.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

Everything

begins

simply

enough.

~ Durga Chew-Bose, from “Heart Museum” in Too Much and Not the Mood: Essays


Image: Mennyfox55

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

Coffee anyone?


Photo: Patty Maher with Concentric Circles

Saturday Morning

tasting,

But this morning, a kind day has descended, from nowhere,

and making coffee in the usual day, measuring grounds
with the wooden spoon, I remembered,

this is how things happen, cup by cup, familiar gesture
after gesture, what else can we know of safety

or of fruitfulness?

– Marie Howe, excerpt from “From Nowhere” in The Good Thief: Poems


Notes: Poem Source: via violentwavesofemotion. Photo: Cup Tasting by Jürg Balsiger

Dawn in the north. His nose stalks the air.

coffee

I want to describe my life
in hushed tones
like a TV nature program.
Dawn in the north.
His nose stalks the air
for newborn coffee.

~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry

 


Notes: Photo via Your Eyes Blaze Out

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

morning-coffee

Here’s the true secret of life: We mostly do everything over and over. In the morning, we let the dogs out, make coffee, read the paper, help whoever is around get ready for the day. We do our work. In the afternoon, if we have left, we come home, put down our keys and satchels, let the dogs out, take off constrictive clothing, make a drink or put water on for tea, toast the leftover bit of scone. I love ritual and repetition. Without them, I would be a balloon with a slow leak.

~ Anne Lamott, Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair


Notes: Photo – Mennyfox55

 

Lightly child, lightly

light-bulb-inspire

I always get up and make a cup of coffee while it is still dark—it must be dark—and then I drink the coffee and watch the light come…. Writers all devise ways to approach that place where they expect to make the contact, where they become the conduit, or where they engage in this mysterious process. For me, light is the signal in the transition. It’s not being in the light, it’s being there before it arrives. It enables me, in some sense.

~ Toni Morrison, excerpted from Roderick MacIver’s Art As a Way of Life

Notes:

  • Poem: Thank you Roderick MacIver
  • Photo: Kat Mix (via Banished From Camelot).
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Monday Morning

coffee-morning

She sips her coffee, sets it down, stretches her arms.
This is one of the most singular experiences,
waking on what feels like a good day,
preparing to work but not yet actually embarked.
At this moment there are infinite possibilities, whole hours ahead.

— Michael Cunningham, The Hours


Credits: Quote: Et in Arcadia Ego*.  Image: Falling To Pieces

 

%d bloggers like this: