David Kanigan
It’s hard to hurt things.
Isn’t it.
I’m afraid of spiders but I still scoop them cold
into my hands & let them free. Where’s the church
for things like this.
~ Talin Tahajian, from “No steeple,” published in Cosmonauts Avenue
Photo: Nicolai Græsdal with Spider. Quote: via bostonpoetryslam
Michael posted it. I chew on it.
“The older I grow, the more I listen to people who don’t talk much.” Germain G. Glidden.
Like a needle stuck in a rut, it churns.
The older I grow…The older I grow…The older I grow.
It’s Monday, an unexpected break, with two cancellations. I mosey cross-town to catch an early afternoon train.
The hallways in Grand Central, teeming in rush hour, stand empty, resting. The board flashes Track 106, departing in 30 minutes. 30 minutes. 30 minutes. 30 minutes.
The stomach growls. I circle the snack bar. Once. And then twice. And then back again. Snickers Bars. Doritos. Mixed Nuts. M&Ms. Papers. Magazines. Sodas chilling. An oversize bag of Jalapeno SkinnyPop. Bingo. I grab the bag and a Kit-Kat Bar. The tattooed counter man lifts his head from the NY Post, “Bag for this?”
I step into the last car, it’s dimly lit. [Read more…]
Today, God, help me focus on a peaceful pace rather than a harried one.
I will keep moving forward gently, not frantically.
Help me let go of my need to be anxious, upset, and harried.
Help me replace it with a need to be at peace and in harmony.
~ Melody Beattie, from “Going Easy” in The Language of Letting Go
Photo: Alejandro García Restrepo via I Hear It in the Deep Heart’s Core
I would like to paint the way a bird sings.
~ Claude Monet
Notes:
Yesterday I had a beautiful letter from Eugénie about old age (she is in her seventies).
Ici la vie continue égale et monotone en surface, pleine d’éclairs, de sommets et de désepérance, dans les profondeurs. Nous sommes arrivés maintenant á un stade de vie si riche en apprehensions nouvelles intransmissibles aux autres âges de la vie – on se sent rempli á la fois de tant de douceur et de tant de désespoir – l’énigme de cette vie grandit, grandit, vous submerge et vous écrase, puis tout á coup en une lueur suprême on prend conscience due “sacré.”
“Here life goes on, even and monotonous on the surface, full of lightning, of summits and of despair, in its depths. We have now arrived at a stage in life so rich in new perceptions that cannot be transmitted to those at another stage – one feels at the same time full of so much gentleness and so much despair – the enigma of this life grows, grows, drowns one and crushes one, then all of a sudden in a supreme moment of light one becomes aware of the “sacred.”
~ May Sarton, March 3rd, Journal of Solitude
Notes:
In the morning
the light flickers—
every place it touches is unnamed.
I forget
my silk-spun dreams & losing heart.
I am open. I am soft.
I move into the silence
but I know I can’t stay.
— Michelle Tudor, This is Not the Place
Notes:
Our heart survives between hammers,
just as the tongue between the teeth
is still able to praise.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
Image Source: akimuby via blackandwhite. Quote Source: youreyesblazeout
