Grass grows in the night
and early the mockingbirds begin
their fleet courtships over puddles,
upon wires, in the new green
of the Spanish limes.
Their white-striped wings flash
as they flirt and dive.
Wind in the chimes pulls music
from the air, the sky’s cleared
of its vast complications.
In the pause before summer,
the wild sprouting of absolutely
everything: hair, nails, the mango’s
pale rose pennants, tongues of birds
Words, even, and sudden embraces,
surprising dreams and things I’d never
imagined, in all these years of living,
one more astonished awakening.
People who eat in coffee shops
are not worried about nutrition.
They order the toasted cheese sandwiches blithely,
followed by chocolate egg creams and plaster of paris
wedges of lemon meringue pie.
They don’t have parental, dental, or medical figures hovering
full of warnings, or whip out dental floss immediately.
They can live in furnished rooms and whenever they want
go out and eat glazed donuts along with innumerable coffees,
dousing their cigarettes in sloppy saucers.
A long and gracious fall this year.
The leaves are down. Gardens: emptied,
manured, tilled, smooth, and waiting.
Mower and tiller serviced and put away.
Smoker put away, as is the summer table.
Prayer flags, windsocks and their poles: down.
Twenty-foot homemade badminton poles,
peace flag at the top of one, store-bought net—
all down and put away for another year. No more
outdoor summer chores.
Fall planting — peonies and tiger lilies — done.
Summer flower stalks removed, beds mulched,
a blanket for the cold. Fall pruning done.
Woodshed roof hammered down and sealed again.
Cellar closed. Drive staked and flagged so the
snowplow knows where to go.
What else is there to do? Finally, for once, we are ready
for the snow. Ready now to come inside. Time now for
words and music, poems and shakuhachi. Time now
to light some incense, sit and stare at candlelight.
What the hell. The heart wants what the heart wants, right?-
The posts for the remainder of the year (for the most part) will be personal in nature, so please forgive the self-involvement in advance. I have worked extremely hard to omit painful personal stories from this blog-o-thing.
Every Fall, I like to engage in two very different sorts of bike rides (I’m into the cycling thing now although I do this with yoga almost every week during the year)—one with a group of good friends, and one alone, myself. These rides don’t have to be real long or strenuous, just long enough to get a clean break from the rigors of my day-to-day life. These moments of serenity each provide me with two very different experiences, and I intimately love both of them.
Although it’s the long free-flowing ride that I take by myself that gives me the time to reflect on where I am at (not lost in a cornfield …) and where I will be going.
This alone time affords me the luxury of taking as much time as I need to relax into a smooth rhythm, to delve deeper into the love that we are often too busy to enjoy and savor. Sleeping in late, enjoying a cup of chamomile tea – “A touch of soy milk and Stevia please.” Hanging out with no agenda, no races, no race prep, no FitBit trackers, no cell phones … Zero responsibilities, it’s as close to heaven as I can get in Nebraska.
We – You included – Have forgotten that there isn’t anything more important than taking time to restore our health, our spirit and mind(s). To reawaken and indulge our enjoyment of deep pleasure (re-read this post again later and preface it with the imagery of love, sex and passion … ), and to retreat into the sweet environment that supports the growth of our true selves.
When we stop being curious about who we really are and start thinking that we already “know” whatever, our intrinsic motivation to be curious, attentive, and engaged – weakens and slowly withers away into nothingness. Slaves to what is to be expected of us.
What am I writing about this morning? Love, relationships, riding a bike, sex, yoga … Cool Fall evenings are tailored for our “delight“. Be well today and enjoy!