Book notes: I’m currently reading, Underland by Robert Macfarlane.
I finished reading a long poem, A Part Song, by Denise Riley, about a grieving mother after losing her son. Also just finished a book, Time Lived, Without Its Flow, an essay on grief, also by Denise Riley.
Calamities, distant or vague
Bring tremors to the mind
Where do you want to be
When the sun goes down?
Can you be anywhere,
Ubiquitous like the sun?
But the mind though untrammeled
Can not occupy all spaces.
A fisherman bruised by absence of fish
Will pursue with ferocity
Any hints of trout presence
In whatever weather or distance.
He will not be deceived by color
Or pitch of whirling waters
Or exasperated by any sinking thought
The oars are focused, desire is steeled.
Does begin the intellectual incarnation
A reverence for beauty and truth
The universe forever expanding
I’m feverishly reaching for your hand.
Drink your poetry
spread your voice like a sunrise
a siren to wake slumbering streets and balconies
bringing new pitch, efforts, and emotions
getting lost in crowds, fiestas, and promenades
Speak. Be a poet
Be vibrant like bougainvillea in the backyards
flowers overflowiing over a concrete fence.
Asymmetry has its own beauty
Nothing revealed, nothing concealed
Only loss of symmetry
Like death with its own mystery
Brings silence and tears.
“Beauty is not the goal of competitive sports, but high-level sports are a prime venue for the expression of human beauty. The relation is roughly that of courage to war.”
– David Foster Wallace, String Theory
Radiance belongs to being considered precisely as beautiful, it is, in being, that which catches the eye, or the ear, or the mind, and makes us want to perceive it again.- Etienne Gilson
note: quoted in Beauty, The Invisible Embrace by John O’Donohue