note: syrah grapevine buds taken in the foothills in Amador County, CA.
“Wherever you are is the entry point”.-Kabir
“All of us are richer than we imagine. None of us possesses a life devoid of magic, barren of grace, divorced of power.”- Julia Cameron, The Vein of Gold
by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
The painted man stands like a statue
in the Fisherman’s Wharf, San Francisco
immobile for an hour or two
concentration, the center of his gravity
passersby look, for a moment, freeze their strides
a boy approaches, and pinches him
the statue winks, the boy smiles
the passersby resume their destination.
The boy sits focused in his chess game
webs of moves, branching, the center of his mind
a statue, breathing and thinking
and will not wink, shakes hands with smile.
note: I’m playing a lot of chess and reading about tesseract. I could not write a poem.
How Do I love Thee?
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise;
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith;
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
My modest analysis
The Petrarchan sonnet with 14 lines and the turn,”volta”, at line 8 or 9. In the first 8 lines the poet opens with a question which is the theme of the poem:”How do I love thee?” The following lines show the magnitude of her love, the geometrical dimensions.Her love is spiritually perfect-“Ideal Grace.”
Her love encompasses even the ordinariness of the day and night, even in solitude. The love is distinct with its purity,love is for him alone.
The “volta” shows how the poet expresses the ways of her love. She uses the degree of comparison.Her love is like her “passion” for her old griefs, tenacious and strong. Her love is clear and innocent like “my childhood’s faith”, unquestioning,no doubts, no strings attached. Her love is like her devotion to the saints. She gives everything for her love. Her whole being expresses her love: her every “breath”, her happiness and sorrow. Her love is endless. She surrenders her whole being, for her love to him.Her love is even in her prayer: that God grants that she loves him even “better after death”.
If I have to select a line that I love, it is: “I love thee to the level of everyday’s/
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.” She loves him in the silence of her domestic work, during the time she reads book or writes her poetry, in the daily trivial activities, in her gestures. In her quite moments of awareness she loves him.
note: I’m taking an eCourse on Ten Premodern Poems by Ten Women through Standford University.
“The hardest world to leave, she knew, is the one within the heart.”-Belden Lane, The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality
note: quoted by Richard Rohr in his Daily Meditations
A conference, ideas arranged and tossed around
communion of forms and engagements
patterns new and freshly conceived
full of promise
but the night turned dark
centripetal force veered outside its bearing
a car careened over the barriers
a young star fell from the sky
lying shattered on the highway
the moon wept silently
carrying our voices.
“What is the meaning of life? That was all — a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”-Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse
you fall in love
and enter a new dimension
one room collapses and another expands
to trace where you just left
“a constant dialogue
between reality and illusion”
and will trick your memory
a crooked house of love
the beginning is not where you return
the end is not where you go
welcome to tesseract