25 April 2009

in my new earth.

Sehnsucht (zane-zoocht)—phenomenon of human longing or yearning; a word with strong overtones of seeking and searching.

we would all sit in living rooms
playing music late into the night.
lights down low
and everyone's already beloved faces
would become even more precious
in the safe light.
songs becoming new
as they do each time people play them together.

we would tromp through the fields
and sit by the flowing rivers
as dawn breaks into a brand new
a brand new day.
the birds in the evergreens
far away from any pavement, any highway.
far away from the honking of horns, from
sagging power lines,
from the industrial gunge.

we would sit by a fire
far away, out in the woods.
piling on the logs so high
that our wild spring bonfire
would rain sparks upside down
floating to the edges of a canopy of trees,
up to those other star filled galaxies
that look to us like tiny dots of light
above our gathering.

18 April 2009

pour me a glass of wine.

the thunder is rolling in as we speak. we've been waiting, waiting all day for this storm to show up. turn off that electric noise and listen to the rain finally start to come down. listen to the upstairs neighbors coming home...walkin all around the living room right above you--it's a night to be up and about, you will realize.

listen to the blossoms flying off the trees (you have to listen really, really hard). as the wind blows--a remnant of snowstorms coming from the west--listen.

pour me a glass of wine and just listen.

this rainy spring night i decided that i think deep down we are all just saying: tell me a good story. or maybe it's more like: i hope my life is a good story. what do you think of that?

my story...on this rainy night, reads that there's this song that i can't stop listening to (with the rain right there in the background--just so). and keeping me company--maybe more like making me stop and take stock--are some friendly and beautiful thoughts...excerpts from Linford's recent letter:
When I was younger I would often write myself short job descriptions. I was thinking out loud about what might be worth hanging a life on, a life I was willing to sign my name to:

-Create spaces where good things can happen.

-Give the world something beautiful, some gift of gratitude,
no matter how insignificant or small.

-Write love letters to the whole world.

-Build fires outdoors, and lift a glass and tell stories,
and listen, and laugh, laugh, laugh. (Karin says I’m still working
on this one. She thinks I still need to laugh more, especially at
her jokes, puns and witty asides.)

-Flip a breaker and plunge the farm into darkness so that the stars can be properly seen.

-Do not squander afflictions.

-Own the longing, the non-negotiable need to “praise the mutilated world.”

-Find the music.

Music and art and writing: extravagant, essential, the act of spilling something, a cup running over…


Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding.

A blessing for the writers among us: May all your dead ends be beautiful.

i wish i had a map to get me through all of this. since i don't (really), i guess the best thing to do is go one step at a time. eyes open, and listening.

13 April 2009

mid april

mid april and i woke up this morning to a bird that sounded like laughter. it's getting mighty green around here--that bright, new green. he makes all things new. all this aliveness and flowering makes you not even mind the rain.

i watched a powerful movie on good friday. it's called "as we forgive" and it's about healing and reconciliation in the last fifteen or so years in rwanda. it is very beautiful.

musics. this just in: listen to that moon song. mmmhmmm.

i love this shot from one of my two favorite photographers. can't wait to see what adventures lie ahead for the new camera.

here's a shot i like from the second:

i've sort of been on a poetry kick lately. a friend that had been blog absent for a good long time made a comeback and shared this. it is so nice, and it says it just right.

dove that ventured outside
rainer maria rilke

dove that ventured outside, flying far from the dovecote:
housed and protected again, one with the day, the night,
knows what serenity is, for she has felt her wings
pass through all distance and fear in the course of her wanderings.

the doves that remained at home, never exposed to loss,
innocent and secure, cannot know tenderness;
only the won-back heart can ever be satisfied: free,
through all it has given up, to rejoice in its mastery.

being arches itself over the vast abyss.
Ah the ball that we dared, that we hurled into infinite space,
doesn't it fill our hands differently with its return:
heavier by the weight of where it has been.