Random notions at milemarker 25 on the 46-day Lenten Facebook Fast:
Aftermath in Japan: Cannot help but wonder if the earth is trying to destroy us before we can destroy her.
Poetic license: Without Facebook as an outlet for the ideas that pop into my head, I’m writing more poetry and have recognized a recurring theme around what grows in Southern soil. Having been molded from this red clay and taken root here for more than 58 years, I am intrigued to discover how often the theme appears as a reflection both on what is best and what is worst about the South. A few lines from a recent poem:
The red clay of this green land/hardens into brick, a mean thing/to come up against. Yet red clay unfired/remains so brittle it crumbles/in a heavy hand.
And yet: I did not win the Amy Lowell Travelling Poet Scholarship, so my year of living in Paris and writing poetry will not begin this September. And yet…having decided that doing so is an entirely reasonable dream, I am now prepared to make some version of it happen another way. Especially as I realize this is not the first time I’ve entertained such a dream. When I was 13, I decided I would leave for Paris when I graduated from high school. I made the mistake of telling my family. Their reaction convinced me I had hatched a ridiculous and impossible plan. I was wrong.
Losing Bobby: Watching a fictionalized account of the night Bobby Kennedy died, I was struck all over again by what we — the nation and my generation — lost that night. Our innocence was long gone, assassinated with his brother in 1963. But when Bobby died fast on the heels of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., a few months earlier, my belief that we could be redeemed seemed to go with him. Many in my generation, at least, abandoned ourselves to drugs and sex and world-weariness.
Season of Green Cars: Started on Day 15. Also known as the Month of Red Eyes.
Mom Jeans: I heard about mom jeans for the first time on Day 21. I was not horrified to discover that’s what I wear. I wore hip huggers in the 1970s. They hugged my hips. Today, the same jeans lead to muffin top. I’ll stick with mom jeans, thank you very much.
Winds of Grace: Reminded of a quote from the Hindu saint Ramakrishna, who said that the winds of grace are blowing all the time — we just have to raise our sails.
Today is April 2. The wind is blowing mightily outside my windows. I think I’ll go raise my sails.
Again, your words are thought-provoking, beautiful and resound with me. So oftentimes as children, our dreams were trampled on, poo-pooed at and we lost some of our magic, didn’t we? Now, here we are in our fifties, brave and fearless enough to pick them up and soldier forward. Love ya, Pal!
Thank you, Peg — you are an inspiration as always! I am encouraged by your “random notions” to be more open to the stirrings within as well as to the possibilities that are in front of me… if I but open my eyes and see them.
I love hearing your thoughts and I think your poem was excellent. I have something for you — a project I worked on for four months. It’s on a special music CD I produced. I call it “It’s In The Lyrics”. I love music that has lyrics with a message. I’ve lost your address. Please email or call me and I’ll add it to my contact database. Then, I’ll mail you the CD. It’s a gift for people who know me well. I can count them on one hand, and you are there. Keep writing. Your posts always put a smile on my face.
Thank you, my friends. 19 days of the FB Fast to go.