~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~
 |
| With thanks to Jay Beets for dramatically
improving the quality of my photograph |
In Blackwater Woods
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.
by Mary Oliver (1935 - 2019)
Halloween, All Saints, and All Souls are here to remind us that life is filled with loss. How could we forget? The revered Mary Oliver writes that everything in life leads to loss, not just any loss but a river of loss, not just any river but a "black river of loss." However bleak it sounds, we earthlings somehow learn to cope.
How do we live with the certainty of impending, inevitable loss? Poet Jane Kenyon offers the simple and time - honored strategy of counting your blessings. Knowing that our days are numbered, we must enumerate and acknowledge even the smallest joy, the quotidian, such as pouring fresh milk on our cereal or taking the dog for a walk [Mary Oliver: Same!].
Otherwise
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
by Jane Kenyon (1947 – 1995)
Perhaps better than any other example I can think of, the mystical H.D. has described the heart - breaking transition to that dreaded day when all is indeed "otherwise":
Never More Will the Wind
Never more will the wind
cherish you again,
never more will the rain.
Never more
shall we find you bright
in the snow and the wind.
The snow is melted,
the snow is gone,
and you are flown:
Like a bird out of our hand,
like a light out of our heart,
you are gone.
by H.D. (aka Hilda Doolittle, 1886 – 1961)See also W. H. Auden ~ Ray Bradbury ~ Henry Rollins
Next Fortnightly Post
Friday, November 14th
Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ photos by Jay Beets
my shorter, almost daily blogs
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com
Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogsppot.comGood-bye October, Hello November!
