August 17, 2012

This early light is so slow to creep in this morning, the usual fading through that lovely blue took awhile and now there are strange glowing reflections off the white clouds that already are sailing in.  The sky is just hinting at blue, kind of washed out and anemic.   There have been lots of people out this morning, riding bicycles and walking the dogs.  An older lady, dressed to kill, nice suit, heels, hair all done up, just strode past with a big white dog, both of them looking like they started behind and will have to rush to catch up to the day.  The dog, fluffy and very white, seemed as determined as the lady, neither looking left nor right just trotting along beside her as she stretched her long legs in a quick march.  I hope she finds a minute or two to unwind sometime during the day.   Two boys and a girl just zipped by on bicycles, for the few seconds I saw them, you could tell they were having some kind of heated discussion their heads inclined toward each other, their bodies tense, or perhaps it was just the speed they were going that made them look that way.

The air is so still, not a breath stirring, even the smallest twig hangs motionless.  And except for people, and dogs, there does not seem to be any animals out, not the cat or a squirrel, not even a mockingbird.  It's very quiet.  The hum of my computer is the loudest thing at the moment.

View #8 (excerpt)
Sometimes
the world is merely
empty, except for its refuse,
and goes nowhere, like a
cul-de-sac.  And sometimes
it's empty but wide open,
the fruitless winter vines
dreaming of a vintage season.
You don't need anything
that isn't yours to keep going.
If someone is holding you
inside themselves
the way you're learning
to hold them, so much
the better.  Sometimes
there is no difference
between a mind and a mind,
a heart and a heart, a mind
and a heart.  Sometimes
the world won't move
unless you move.
Won't hold its course
unless you show it how.
And sometimes, the world holds
the two of you in one moment
and whispers: Yes. Now.

Thomas Centrolella 

The perceptions of the world and what it holds in this poem are very soothing.  I want to send it as a letter to the lady with the dog.  Then, maybe she is the one moving the world this morning, holding it on course, and i, looking out my window at the stillness in her wake, am just along for the ride.  And, you know, that's all right with me.  Perhaps we are both where we need to be, and doing such holding as we can.  A long slant of sun just burst out from behind the maple tree and lit up the grass as if it were green fire.   A mockingbird just started singing, and I am thinking . . . yes.  Now.  I am holding on to this moment, and both my heart and my mind are at ease, nothing else is necessary!