It happens all the time in heaven,
And some dayIt will begin to happen
Again on earth-
That men and women who are married,
And men and men who are
Lovers,
And women and women
Who give each other Light,
Often will get down on their knees
And while so tenderly
Holding their lover's hand,
With tears in their eyes,
Will sincerely speak, saying,
"My dear,
How can I be more loving to you;
How can I be more
Kind?"
For the wide sky and the blessed sun,
For the salt sea and the running water,
For the everlasting hills
And the never-resting winds,
For trees and the common grass underfoot.
We thank you for our senses
By which we hear the songs of birds,
And see the splendor of the summer fields,
And taste of the autumn fruits,
And rejoice in the feel of the snow,
And smell the breath of the spring.
Grant us a heart wide open to all this beauty;
And save our souls from being so blind
That we pass unseeing
When even the common thornbush
Is aflame with your glory,
O God our creator,
Who lives and reigns for ever and ever.
I have begun,
when I’m weary and can’t decide an answer to a bewildering question
to ask my dead friends for their opinion
and the answer is often immediate and clear.
Should I take the job? Move to the city? Should I try to conceive a child
in my middle age?
They stand in unison shaking their heads and smiling-whatever leads
to joy, they always answer,
to more life and less worry. I look into the vase where Billy’s ashes were-
it’s green in there, a green vase,
and I ask Billy if I should return the difficult phone call, and he says, yes.
Billy’s already gone through the frightening door,
whatever he says I’ll do.
-Marie Howe
"Whatever leads to joy" and also "return the dificult phone call." I love this: Drink deeply from both cups because this is your one life, and we are here to learn both these things.
You might enjoy this interview with the poet.
It is not possible to look at the present condition of our land and people and find support for optimism. We must not fool ourselves.
It is altogether conceivable that we may go right along with this business of "business," with our curious religious faith in technological progress, with our glorification of our own greed and violence always rationalized by our indignation at the greed and violence of others, until our land, our world, and ourselves are utterly destroyed. We know from history that massive human failure is possible....
On the other hand, we want to be hopeful, and hope is one of our duties. A part of our obligation to our own being and to our descendants is to study our life and our condition, searching always for the authentic underpinnings of hope. And if we look, these underpinnings can still be found.
- Wendell Berry in Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community
WONDER: A feeling of surprise mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar, or inexplicable.
I'm not ordinarily a fan of bank commercials - or any other kind - but this was surprisingly beautiful.
Eye-opening interviews with an Israeli rabbi and a Palestinian philosopher.
"I'm going to be a dad!" A British photographer records the immediate reactions of friends and fam.
Miss Representation. Please watch this.
A friend committed suicide last week. I didn't know her well but some common life circumstances had brought us together for a short while before she moved away to be near her extended family. Her death was an utter shock to me as it was to those much closer.
I had been tempted over the course of the last year to write to her, or to talk with one of her closer friends, because of the concern I felt. I reminded myself that Facebook made me feel I knew her better than I did, and that she had actual close friends and family who were looking after her. But even with all the love and support she clearly had, she apparently sunk into a deep level of despair I have only briefly visited.
I was about her age when I was pulled out of that dark deep by a combination of brave friends who confronted me, a patient partner who supported me, a pill that eased my frantic, sad mind enough that I could be open to healing, and by the generous and loving family of a far away friend, whose warm and loving home jump-started my slow return back to the land of the living. But it could have so easily have turned out differently. On this side of that darkness, it's hard to think how lost and bereft one can feel. So lost, sometimes, that nothing can reach you.
I have been reminded of this many times over the years, when I have been in the other place: the one listening and wanting to help. It is such a bittersweet thing to be trusted with the stories of loss and despair that are as much a part of being human as the good parts are. Sometimes they are like secrets whispered; we are too often ashamed that we are struggling at all and want to quietly fix ourselves without burdening others. The depths become invisible to all but those closest to us. To everyone else, we appear to be doing fine, or at least coping well: part of a "perfect family" who is weighed down my marriage problems or serious issues with their teenage children, the "successful" woman on the brink of losing her entire self-image along with her job,the devoted father struggling quietly and desperately with addiction, the loving young mother weighed down with depression and fear for her children.There seem to be unlimited ways to suffer in this life. Thoreau's "most [people] live lives of quiet desperation" resonates at one time or another with most of us.
What is the way through these dark times? "When you are in a dark place, keep going," they say. But what if you find yourself unable to? Or standing with someone you love who has completely lost their way? I think of those words we often say to each other, mindlessly, when parting: "take care."
As worn out as it may sound, take care of yourself. Do the things that you know you need even when you feel it's too selfish or a burden to do them - the things we humans all seem to need: plenty of exercise, time for the things and the people you love, healthy food. And also the things peculiar to you that you know, or once knew, are vital to your particular well-being. One of the hardest parts is challenging ourselves - when we are well - to cultivate a way of life where it's possible to care for ourselves and others. We can't do it if we are constantly running through endless to-do list or have taken on so many things that we careen through the day without time to think, much less discern who or what might need care today - or what we really need in order to sustain health ourselves.
There is apparently no solution to suffering; it will come. And some are hit so hard, they will be pulled under despite the best efforts and abundant love of those near to them. If there is anything to learn from these tragedies it is this: that we are all fragile and at risk. And we have each been given the burden that is a gift - the capability of caring, of loving one another like we love ourselves - and ourselves like we know we ought to love the other. We have the capacity to take care and give care, and once in a while it become startlingly clear that it is the most important thing we do.
