Life: A Work In Progress

 Being Alive 

What an amazing thing it is, to be alive,

to have memories, to have had experiences

that swept us along for a while and then

deposited us here, where we are now,

a surprising yet expected stage of life,

and a strange and unexpected age.

 Photograph: Vesper Hill, 2008

That year felt like
a time of changes,
of letting go, 
of new beginnings. 

We could not know 
it was just the start 
of letting go, 
of many endings.

 In a little while, I'll tell you
what thoughts came to mind 
As this blank sheet opened
and possibilities beckoned.

A beacon, luring me off
the intended track. This.

 
 life 
is Doing
(the ing years)
Writing  
(the creating years)
Looking
(being)

Solitude

To such extents have I gone for a piece of solitude:

Climbing into a full tree to write under cover of leaves.
Moving to the far tip of a sparsely-populated island.
Working the night shift solo baking bread. 
Climbing aloft to furl topsail and watch the sky.
Sitting in a dark room with lights off.

And now we find ourselves under strong pressure 
to self-isolate,
a brand-new concept for many,
to limit the spread of viral contagion in this new world
where people in their haste to be everywhere
spread a new disease
across this tiny globe.

Like a dream come true,
Staying home all day.
I was made for this.
 

 


 

What Do I know?

How often do we stop ourselves
 from saying what we want to say for fear of another's judgement? 

How often do we stop ourselves
 from listening as we pre-judge the worth of another's words?


Not only do we not know the truth,

that is,
we do not know 
that which we do not know, 

more importantly,
we do not know what it is 
that we do not know.



Listen. 
Let.
Learn.

Just Like That

Suddenly, without any warning,
it is now again,

and again.
Just Like That,
it is Now.


Did you see it coming?
Or did you,
too,
open your eyes wide
in such
surprise?

Thinking

How much do you think?

As the body becomes less adept, less able and strong,
there comes a realization that now is a time for thinking.

Always, there has been a struggle between Doing and Being:
to read or to mow, to write or to dig the garden, to stop or to run.

Running is no longer possible -- walking is perforce slow.
Sitting must be brief; computer time and reading limited.

And thus is born a fresh lifestyle: read a little, walk a little,
write a little, stack wood a little (against Dr orders, but

ever the daring and adventurous spirit claims the right
to choose risks carefully) wearing a back-brace.

And through it all, to think, to think, to let loose these
rampant, wild, inexcusably obtuse and unrealistic thoughts.