- space heaters
- tweed
- wassail
- Christmas lights
- rain
Friday, December 11, 2009
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
oh my dears
let me tell you how much fun I have had with the holidays this year!
Baking
1. Chocolate cream pie - made this for Thanksgiving and again for our church Christmas party. So delicious even though Gordon went overboard on the shaved chocolate garnish :) Love him. (ps: make this pie!)
2. Wassail - I just finished my second batch so far this season and it is warming my soul.
3. Chocolate chip waffles with peppermint stick ice cream - it was Sunday and we didn't have buttermilk or chocolate chips, so we had to settle for some rather dense waffles with chocolate chunks, but Marianne's ice cream more than compensated for it!
4. Chewy Gingersnaps - this recipe from my cousin Alice is the best I've ever tried and I will never, ever give it up!
Decorating
1. Dot garlands - my first attempt anything Martha Stewart and I have been SO happy with these! My friend Jess was the arm of this important operation.
2. Christmas Tree - my roommate and I decorated this with white lights while a third roommate made beautiful snowflakes to hang on and above it. I must learn how to make the snowflakes - they are amazing!
3. Wreath - I bought one from the local boy scouts and it is hanging just next to our front door (rather than on the door itself). It's rather fragile, so it will hold together better, I think.
I just attended my first Christmas party this year as well as the Creche Exhibit! AND I've been spending lots of time with this little nevvy of mine:
Baking
1. Chocolate cream pie - made this for Thanksgiving and again for our church Christmas party. So delicious even though Gordon went overboard on the shaved chocolate garnish :) Love him. (ps: make this pie!)
2. Wassail - I just finished my second batch so far this season and it is warming my soul.
3. Chocolate chip waffles with peppermint stick ice cream - it was Sunday and we didn't have buttermilk or chocolate chips, so we had to settle for some rather dense waffles with chocolate chunks, but Marianne's ice cream more than compensated for it!
4. Chewy Gingersnaps - this recipe from my cousin Alice is the best I've ever tried and I will never, ever give it up!
Decorating
1. Dot garlands - my first attempt anything Martha Stewart and I have been SO happy with these! My friend Jess was the arm of this important operation.
2. Christmas Tree - my roommate and I decorated this with white lights while a third roommate made beautiful snowflakes to hang on and above it. I must learn how to make the snowflakes - they are amazing!
3. Wreath - I bought one from the local boy scouts and it is hanging just next to our front door (rather than on the door itself). It's rather fragile, so it will hold together better, I think.
I just attended my first Christmas party this year as well as the Creche Exhibit! AND I've been spending lots of time with this little nevvy of mine:
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Journey of the Magi by T S Eliot
"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Quote of the Day
There's the country of America, which you have to defend, but there's also the idea of America. America is more than just a country, it's an idea. An idea that's supposed to be contagious.
- Bono
- Bono
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Miss me?
Dear Reader,
I haven't forgotten you, I've just been shy. I have remembered how fortune favors the bold, however, and so I've returned. Truly a Thanksgiving miracle!
Here is what I've been occupied with:
1. work (ho hum)
2. traveling an inordinate amount (this has now halted for the present)
3. cooking/baking quite a lot
4. cuddling my nephews
5. running/falling in love
More to come on all of the above! Firstly, lets celebrate the fact that the man of my affections returns today and also that my baby brother Stu returns for Thanksgiving on Saturday. How spectacular!
Let's also note what I am making for Thanksgiving:
- Layered jello (see picture below)
- Chocolate Cream Pie
I'll be sure to take pictures and post recipes!
love
kt
I haven't forgotten you, I've just been shy. I have remembered how fortune favors the bold, however, and so I've returned. Truly a Thanksgiving miracle!
Here is what I've been occupied with:
1. work (ho hum)
2. traveling an inordinate amount (this has now halted for the present)
3. cooking/baking quite a lot
4. cuddling my nephews
5. running/falling in love
More to come on all of the above! Firstly, lets celebrate the fact that the man of my affections returns today and also that my baby brother Stu returns for Thanksgiving on Saturday. How spectacular!
Let's also note what I am making for Thanksgiving:
- Layered jello (see picture below)
- Chocolate Cream Pie
I'll be sure to take pictures and post recipes!
love
kt
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
His Voice Had Grown Softer Each Day by Kevin Goodan
I need you to get me a ticket, he said.
For what, I asked, waking at the foot of his bed.
For the train, he said. They say I need a ticket.
Except for the small lamp the room was dark.
The air was cool and clear. The first night of september.
Do you know who they are, I asked
and he said , Oh yes. They are smiling and waving-
I havent seen them in so long.
They want me to climb onboard...I need my ticket.
I want to give you a ticket, I said.
For what, I asked, waking at the foot of his bed.
For the train, he said. They say I need a ticket.
Except for the small lamp the room was dark.
The air was cool and clear. The first night of september.
Do you know who they are, I asked
and he said , Oh yes. They are smiling and waving-
I havent seen them in so long.
They want me to climb onboard...I need my ticket.
I want to give you a ticket, I said.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Theme in Yellow by Carl Sandburg
I SPOT the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o'-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know
I am fooling.
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o'-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know
I am fooling.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
a poem by Emily Dickinson
The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth.
The sweeping up the heart
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth.
The sweeping up the heart
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity.
At the End of This Summer by John Haines
I wonder if I frightened you,
Coming as I did from behind
As you sat alone in your chair
With the low sun melting over your head.
I couldn't imagine what you were
Looking at or thinking of--
You who have always been so lively
And little given to quiet--
And the desire to bend and kiss your hair
Was almost unbearable.
You turned,
With that air of half-astonishment
You use so well, I smiled a greeting.
After that, we sat and talked for a while
And enjoyed the departing light.
Then the warmth was gone,
And we rose, I to take my leave, and you
To close the door and pull the shade,
And turn to the lighting of a lamp,
The starting of a fire in the stove.
Coming as I did from behind
As you sat alone in your chair
With the low sun melting over your head.
I couldn't imagine what you were
Looking at or thinking of--
You who have always been so lively
And little given to quiet--
And the desire to bend and kiss your hair
Was almost unbearable.
You turned,
With that air of half-astonishment
You use so well, I smiled a greeting.
After that, we sat and talked for a while
And enjoyed the departing light.
Then the warmth was gone,
And we rose, I to take my leave, and you
To close the door and pull the shade,
And turn to the lighting of a lamp,
The starting of a fire in the stove.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Remember Lot's Wife
My roommate of bygone years wrote a blog post on remembering Lot's wife and not looking back. The many comments by the readers were (as usual) inspiring and some of their comments reaffirmed something that I have been thinking about lately, which is that
God is always forward looking.
1. I love you. Thanks for praying.
2. You’re right, you shouldn’t have done that. Put it behind you.
3. Do this. (I can help you, just ask)
4. {Insert doctrine here}
God is always forward looking.
I think that’s how He tries to coach our thinking, our attitudes, and transform us. Rather than fret and fester over the past, move on and do better.
We see a great example of this in the story of Cain and Abel. When Cain’s offering is not accepted (Genesis 4), Cain ‘was very wroth and his countenance fell.’ Basically he got depressed, angry, and was sulking.
And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted?Cain proceeds to give up trying to please God in spite of God's encouragement. I find that God's initial response to Cain is pretty consistent when I think about the things He says to me when I pray. It is always one of the following:
1. I love you. Thanks for praying.
2. You’re right, you shouldn’t have done that. Put it behind you.
3. Do this. (I can help you, just ask)
4. {Insert doctrine here}
He never says:
1. What took you so long. You never pray consistently.
2. I can’t believe you did that again.
I think the best record we have of conversations with God is found in Doctrine & Covenants. One of my favorite passages is a great case:
For, behold, you should not have feared man more than God. Although men set at naught the counsels of God, and despise his words— Yet you should have been faithful; and he would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble. ..if thou art not aware thou wilt fall. But remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent … and thou art still chosen. (Doctrine & Covenants 3:7-10)
If that isn’t forward looking I don’t know what is.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
#23. Run a 5k Race
Last night I ran the Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5k and it was lovely!
Firstly, the weather was perfect and we ran on the baylands. I felt pre-race giddiness.
Secondly, so many friends were there! Lots of children, an assortment of neighbors and members of the community. It was delightful to jog in place, smiling, laughing. My newly released Bishop D W came by after finishing the 5k walk with his two beaming red-headed daughters. They were pink-cheeked and smiled so sweetly.
And then! We were off! I felt the imminent danger of a human stampede, but as I moved with the crowd we suddenly reached the open air of the trail. I forgot my iPod, so I simply ran alone looking at the night, focusing on my breathing, finding my pace. The giddiness melted away and I heard snippets of conversations from my neighbors as they passed me, I passed them. It was beautiful to think of all the many hearts beating in their respective chests. Most runners had some kind of light source - a blinking red button, a headlamp, a glowing necklace or bracelet.
And when I reached the last mile, I picked up my pace praying that I wouldn't burn out. And when I reached the final 100 yards, I sprinted. I beat my previous time, I was greeted by and continued to greet arriving friends. I ate orange slices, quarters of bagel, and reveled in the satisfaction that I had officially completed #23 of my 100 Things (see right hand sidebar). I ran a 5k race (and enjoyed it)!
Firstly, the weather was perfect and we ran on the baylands. I felt pre-race giddiness.
Secondly, so many friends were there! Lots of children, an assortment of neighbors and members of the community. It was delightful to jog in place, smiling, laughing. My newly released Bishop D W came by after finishing the 5k walk with his two beaming red-headed daughters. They were pink-cheeked and smiled so sweetly.
And then! We were off! I felt the imminent danger of a human stampede, but as I moved with the crowd we suddenly reached the open air of the trail. I forgot my iPod, so I simply ran alone looking at the night, focusing on my breathing, finding my pace. The giddiness melted away and I heard snippets of conversations from my neighbors as they passed me, I passed them. It was beautiful to think of all the many hearts beating in their respective chests. Most runners had some kind of light source - a blinking red button, a headlamp, a glowing necklace or bracelet.
And when I reached the last mile, I picked up my pace praying that I wouldn't burn out. And when I reached the final 100 yards, I sprinted. I beat my previous time, I was greeted by and continued to greet arriving friends. I ate orange slices, quarters of bagel, and reveled in the satisfaction that I had officially completed #23 of my 100 Things (see right hand sidebar). I ran a 5k race (and enjoyed it)!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A Vagabond Song by Bliss Carman
THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wordy Thursdy: Felicity
"Is there any felicity in the world superior to this?" - Marianne, Sense and Sensibility (1995)
use it instead of these words: happiness, joy, contentment, pleasure.
variations: felicitous (use instead of happy), felicitate, felicitation (use plural instead of congratulations)
I felicitate you! He offered his felicitations. The felicities of summertime. There is no greater felicity than chocolate cake.
It's felicity. (Not just an American Girl, people!)
------
Update:
gchat status 9/17/2009
use it instead of these words: happiness, joy, contentment, pleasure.
variations: felicitous (use instead of happy), felicitate, felicitation (use plural instead of congratulations)
I felicitate you! He offered his felicitations. The felicities of summertime. There is no greater felicity than chocolate cake.
It's felicity. (Not just an American Girl, people!)
------
Update:
gchat status 9/17/2009
"leads a felicitous life"
Wordy Thursdy: Loath
I don't mean, who do you loathe more than [insert loathed object here]. I mean, what are you loath to do?
It's a state of mind, not a verb. It's sans 'e.'
Also the vowel sound is similar to 'loaf''
use it instead of these words: unwilling, reluctant, disinclined, averse.
I'm loath to do that. I am loath to do so. She is loath to come with me. He is loath to do his homework. ad nauseum.
It's loath [or loth].
------
Update:
Email 9/17/2009
It's a state of mind, not a verb. It's sans 'e.'
Also the vowel sound is similar to 'loaf''
use it instead of these words: unwilling, reluctant, disinclined, averse.
I'm loath to do that. I am loath to do so. She is loath to come with me. He is loath to do his homework. ad nauseum.
It's loath [or loth].
------
Update:
Email 9/17/2009
"If we change this to Tuesday instead would you be able to join? We had
someone else asking, so we just wanted to check before revisiting the date
(which we are generally loath to do)."
Vocabulary Challenge
I realized last night that I have many words in my vocabulary that I rarely (if ever) use in written or spoken word. I have decided to start integrating these delightful words here and now!
So starting now, Thursdays will be Vocab day! (do I ever stick to my "day of the week themes"? Let this be the first!)
Please feel free to take on this challenge with me. What I will do is report the 2-3 words for the week and provide updates from time to time on my usage. Please share your experiences!
So starting now, Thursdays will be Vocab day! (do I ever stick to my "day of the week themes"? Let this be the first!)
Please feel free to take on this challenge with me. What I will do is report the 2-3 words for the week and provide updates from time to time on my usage. Please share your experiences!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
2009 Haiku Hustlers (AKA Winning Poets)
It is with great pleasure that I announce this year's winning poets:
The Haiku Hustlers
Winners should email me via f r a n n y k t (you can direct it to a gmail account) with his or her mailing address to receive their prize. The prizes for the winner of each category are as follows.
Best September Haiku - wins a song about September sung by KT
Most Humorous Haiku - wins a (FUN!) surprise
Best Haiku Series - wins a serial story by KT
Most Creative Haiku - wins a work of art by KT
Best Haiku about a Place - wins at least 1 postcard (maybe more!)
And now... the winning haiku poets!
Best September Haiku: "Gayle"
September brings a
fresh start at the year's waning:
a birthday and school.
Most Humorous Haiku: "Whits"
facebook, gchat, tweets:
what would I do without you?
work? non-existent.
Giants break my heart
Please start hitting the baseball
Can't let Rockies in
Best Haiku Series: "Heresiarch"
Murder is elementary
Agatha Christie
Gives you a cup of hot tea
laced with arsenic
Blimp enthusiast
Has enemies. One lit match:
Death by hydrogen
Helium-filled room
Is inert, as you are--trapped
With your squeaky screams
Swimming late at night
Sodium plus H2O
Explosive moment
Trapped in a peat swamp
Compressed for one million years
Crystalline carbon
Tungsten filament
Saboteur, exploding bulb
Placed to pierce my heart
Ununquadium
Half life 2.6 seconds
How long will yours be?
Orange krypton light
Illuminates Lex Luthor as
Superman is killed
Twenty-one ponies
Die, selenium overdosed
Foul play is involved
Cancer struck quickly
Must be the plutonium
You slipped in my drink
Silicon circuit
Tampered with in robot's brain
Inventor's life ends
"Sweetness shows presence
Of beryllium," he says.
He omits "It's toxic."
My pet is smiling
(My chromium manticore)
As he leaps at you
Zeus hated Al's golf
Sent bolt to strike head of Al's
Titanium club
Most Creative Haiku: "LRH"
One more souvenir
A collection most esteemed
My fake credit cards
Best Haiku about a Place: "Alli"
Let's go to the moon
There is no gravity there
Good for dance parties
The Haiku Hustlers
Winners should email me via f r a n n y k t (you can direct it to a gmail account) with his or her mailing address to receive their prize. The prizes for the winner of each category are as follows.
Best September Haiku - wins a song about September sung by KT
Most Humorous Haiku - wins a (FUN!) surprise
Best Haiku Series - wins a serial story by KT
Most Creative Haiku - wins a work of art by KT
Best Haiku about a Place - wins at least 1 postcard (maybe more!)
And now... the winning haiku poets!
Best September Haiku: "Gayle"
September brings a
fresh start at the year's waning:
a birthday and school.
Most Humorous Haiku: "Whits"
facebook, gchat, tweets:
what would I do without you?
work? non-existent.
Giants break my heart
Please start hitting the baseball
Can't let Rockies in
Best Haiku Series: "Heresiarch"
Murder is elementary
Agatha Christie
Gives you a cup of hot tea
laced with arsenic
Blimp enthusiast
Has enemies. One lit match:
Death by hydrogen
Helium-filled room
Is inert, as you are--trapped
With your squeaky screams
Swimming late at night
Sodium plus H2O
Explosive moment
Trapped in a peat swamp
Compressed for one million years
Crystalline carbon
Tungsten filament
Saboteur, exploding bulb
Placed to pierce my heart
Ununquadium
Half life 2.6 seconds
How long will yours be?
Orange krypton light
Illuminates Lex Luthor as
Superman is killed
Twenty-one ponies
Die, selenium overdosed
Foul play is involved
Cancer struck quickly
Must be the plutonium
You slipped in my drink
Silicon circuit
Tampered with in robot's brain
Inventor's life ends
"Sweetness shows presence
Of beryllium," he says.
He omits "It's toxic."
My pet is smiling
(My chromium manticore)
As he leaps at you
Zeus hated Al's golf
Sent bolt to strike head of Al's
Titanium club
Most Creative Haiku: "LRH"
One more souvenir
A collection most esteemed
My fake credit cards
Best Haiku about a Place: "Alli"
Let's go to the moon
There is no gravity there
Good for dance parties
Monday, August 31, 2009
Return of the Haiku Hustle
Dear Reader,
After a 3 year hiatus, it is with great pleasure that we welcome back the Haiku Hustle: A Haiku Invitational and Challenge.
An Invitation
Please (using the Comments section) submit a haiku (a series of haiku, multiple entries, are welcome). Please review the guidelines at the end of this post.
A Challenge
I will award prizes to the best haiku (best = the ones I select for any reason I choose) in the following categories:
(1) Best September Haiku
(2) Most Humorous Haiku
(3) Best Haiku Series (containing at least 3 haiku)
(4) Most Creative Haiku
(5) Best Haiku about a place
- You are welcome to include an introduction or a note along with your haiku to assist in the judging.
Guidelines
1. Entries must be posted as a comment in order to be considered. Multiple comments, posts, submissions may be made.
2. Poems must be in haiku format. They must have 3 lines in 5/7/5 syllabic form. They do not generally rhyme (no extra points for rhyming. In fact, I may dock you points).
3. Poems do not have to be traditional Haiku, but there are awards in that category. Please note that traditional Haiku are minimalist and nature-themed.
4. You do NOT have to know me to make a submission! :)
5. Rated G please.
6. Deadline = Friday, September 11th. Awards will be issued on Monday, September 14th.
I WILL NOT BE POSTING AGAIN UNTIL THE CHALLENGE IS COMPLETE! Good luck!!!
After a 3 year hiatus, it is with great pleasure that we welcome back the Haiku Hustle: A Haiku Invitational and Challenge.
An Invitation
Please (using the Comments section) submit a haiku (a series of haiku, multiple entries, are welcome). Please review the guidelines at the end of this post.
A Challenge
I will award prizes to the best haiku (best = the ones I select for any reason I choose) in the following categories:
(1) Best September Haiku
(2) Most Humorous Haiku
(3) Best Haiku Series (containing at least 3 haiku)
(4) Most Creative Haiku
(5) Best Haiku about a place
- You are welcome to include an introduction or a note along with your haiku to assist in the judging.
Guidelines
1. Entries must be posted as a comment in order to be considered. Multiple comments, posts, submissions may be made.
2. Poems must be in haiku format. They must have 3 lines in 5/7/5 syllabic form. They do not generally rhyme (no extra points for rhyming. In fact, I may dock you points).
3. Poems do not have to be traditional Haiku, but there are awards in that category. Please note that traditional Haiku are minimalist and nature-themed.
4. You do NOT have to know me to make a submission! :)
5. Rated G please.
6. Deadline = Friday, September 11th. Awards will be issued on Monday, September 14th.
I WILL NOT BE POSTING AGAIN UNTIL THE CHALLENGE IS COMPLETE! Good luck!!!
Friday, August 28, 2009
My sister the magnificent!
My sister Laura just turned 30 on Wednesday and is, impressively, a neuropsychologist, mother, and authoress. Seriously. She writes murder mystery parties, and now, apparently murder mystery novels!
In fact, you can read one of her mystery novels on textnovel.com - which is currently in a contest to win something-or-other. In hopes that you'll go read her novel and help her win, I now introduce you to:
Seller of Soles by Laura Lyle...
In fact, you can read one of her mystery novels on textnovel.com - which is currently in a contest to win something-or-other. In hopes that you'll go read her novel and help her win, I now introduce you to:
Seller of Soles by Laura Lyle...Clickitty Clack is the most fashionable shoe shop in San Francisco and November Cole, the owner, enjoys every minute of her success. But when one of her wealthiest clients is murdered for a pair of blood red sandals, November begins to wonder about the mysterious designer who made them. When a second client is killed for a pair of red high heels, the police get involved and November becomes the prime suspect. Who is after the heels and why are they worth killing for?Mmm, shoes and murder in San Francisco... delightful!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The House by Richard Wilbur
Sometimes, on waking, she would close her eyes
For a last look at that white house she knew
In sleep alone, and held no title to,
And had not entered yet, for all her sighs.
What did she tell me of that house of hers?
White gatepost; terrace; fanlight of the door;
A widow’s walk above the bouldered shore;
Salt winds that ruffle the surrounding firs.
Is she now there, wherever there may be?
Only a foolish man would hope to find
That haven fashioned by her dreaming mind.
Night after night, my love, I put to sea.
For a last look at that white house she knew
In sleep alone, and held no title to,
And had not entered yet, for all her sighs.
What did she tell me of that house of hers?
White gatepost; terrace; fanlight of the door;
A widow’s walk above the bouldered shore;
Salt winds that ruffle the surrounding firs.
Is she now there, wherever there may be?
Only a foolish man would hope to find
That haven fashioned by her dreaming mind.
Night after night, my love, I put to sea.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Stake Mission Rules
My friend Jennifer gave me these rules that her Stake Mission has outlined. I think they pretty much cover all the bases:
- Get up early; go to bed at a reasonable hour
- Offer regular, frequent and fervent prayer
- Engage in daily scripture study
- Write in your journal
- Exercise
- Look the part
- Keep the commandments
- Freely give service
- Go to the temple
- Don't waste time
- Share the gospel
I am toying with the notion of doing a blog post on my attempts to do each of these with consistency. But we all know how that went with the stress busters..
Monday, August 17, 2009
Isaiah 63:7-9
I will mention the lovingkindnesses of the Lord, and the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord hath bestowed on us, and the great goodness toward the house of Israel, which he hath bestowed on them according to his mercies, and according to the multitude of his lovingkindnesses.
For he said, Surely they are my people: so he was their Saviour.
In all their affliction he was afflicted, in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old.
For he said, Surely they are my people: so he was their Saviour.
In all their affliction he was afflicted, in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
A special friend!
Dear friends,
Today is my friend Peter's birthday. Let me tell you a few things I love about Peter:
1. Peter is always generous and includes others - he is always nice and friendly to everyone.
2. Peter has a hilarious giggle and is quick to laugh. It's always fun to be with him!
3. Peter fills his life to the brim with good things (okay maybe overflowing, because I don't see him enough...) For instance, right now Peter is acting in community theatre as a cowboy Bo. (hee hee. that's funny to me.)
4. MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL! Peter loves his family. His sister Kate suffers from a condition called hydrocephalus and Peter has organized a fundraising event to raise money for medical research.
Therefore, in honor of Peter's birthday and his amazing sister Kate, I'd like to invite you all to donate to http://teamhydro.org (no donation is too small! AND it's tax deductible, of course). If you do not have the means to donate, I invite you to spread the word! At the very least you can link to this blog post or Peter's web site http://teamhydro.org
Happy Birthday, Peter! I know there is nothing you want more than help for Kate :)
<-- Peter and Kate
Today is my friend Peter's birthday. Let me tell you a few things I love about Peter:
1. Peter is always generous and includes others - he is always nice and friendly to everyone.
2. Peter has a hilarious giggle and is quick to laugh. It's always fun to be with him!
3. Peter fills his life to the brim with good things (okay maybe overflowing, because I don't see him enough...) For instance, right now Peter is acting in community theatre as a cowboy Bo. (hee hee. that's funny to me.)
4. MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL! Peter loves his family. His sister Kate suffers from a condition called hydrocephalus and Peter has organized a fundraising event to raise money for medical research.
Therefore, in honor of Peter's birthday and his amazing sister Kate, I'd like to invite you all to donate to http://teamhydro.org (no donation is too small! AND it's tax deductible, of course). If you do not have the means to donate, I invite you to spread the word! At the very least you can link to this blog post or Peter's web site http://teamhydro.org
Happy Birthday, Peter! I know there is nothing you want more than help for Kate :)
<-- Peter and Kate
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Spiritual Gems of Life by Jordan Cox
You use virtual reality in your lives all the time: video games, computer animations, virtual relationships through the Internet, virtual entertainment through TV and the movies—to name a few of the many forms of virtual reality. However, if you wish to win your bid for eternal life, you will need to put away the virtual reality of your life and develop real relationships and real friendships. You will need to build eternal realities.
These gems sparkle on my dreary plain, and I have discovered them only as I have kept my eyes focused on the Son of God. I have collected them in my collecting bag—my journal. You have your own plain to explore. Unique and beautiful gems are there. I hope you will find them. Remember, keep your eyes toward the Son of God. Pray always in your heart. Look for spiritual parallels. You will see them. At first they will be tiny sparkles scattered upon the plain, but then you will notice that they are really more organized than you thought. I think that one day we will all collectively discover that they are part of an amazing sea of glass hiding under the dusty soil of this earth life. And this sea of glass will tell us all things about the kingdoms we have been living in (see D&C 130:7).
Read the talk here.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Quote of the Day
If I esteem mankind to be in error, shall I bear them down? No, I will lift them up and in their own way too, If I cannot persuade them my way is better; and I will not seek to compel any man to believe as I do, only by the force of reasoning, for truth will cut its own way.
Joseph Smith
Joseph Smith
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Quote of the Day
Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty.
JFK
JFK
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Quote of the Day
We identify the flag with almost everything we hold dear on earth, peace, security, liberty, our family, our friends, our home. . .But when we look at our flag and behold it emblazoned with all our rights we must remember that it is equally a symbol of our duties. Every glory that we associate with it is the result of duty done.
Calvin Coolidge
Calvin Coolidge
Friday, July 03, 2009
Quote(s) of the Day
It takes a long time to turn a big country around. Just be of good cheer and keep working on it.
There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.
Bill Clinton
There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.
Bill Clinton
Monday, June 15, 2009
My dear Readers,
I am going to formalize what you may have already noticed - I am taking a vacation from blogging. I have a lot of things I need to focus on, and sadly, blogging has not made the list.
I will be back from time to time, or not.
much love to you,
kt
I will be back from time to time, or not.
much love to you,
kt
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
I'm back
I got back last week, but -WOW- it has been busy!
- back to work
- moved to a new house (!)
- family tragedy
I am grateful for a wonderful extended family that is such a great example to me of faith and trust in the Lord. I am grateful for the promise of the resurrection made possible through Jesus Christ. It gives hope where otherwise there would be none. I am grateful for temples where families can be sealed together forever - so that death need not part.
Much love to you all, I'll be posting again soon.
- back to work
- moved to a new house (!)
- family tragedy
I am grateful for a wonderful extended family that is such a great example to me of faith and trust in the Lord. I am grateful for the promise of the resurrection made possible through Jesus Christ. It gives hope where otherwise there would be none. I am grateful for temples where families can be sealed together forever - so that death need not part.
Much love to you all, I'll be posting again soon.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Greetings from Vienna
Hello, my lovelies.
Turns out I missed my flight to Norway. I won't go into the tears and frustration, but instead will tell you I salvaged my weekend by flying to Vienna to visit the family of my dear friends Becca and Benj. It's been glorious weather and I still got to visit continental Europe for the first time. {Can I also tell you that Saturday night was the first night I slept in a bed since Tuesday? Fantastic...}
As for visiting my friends Inki and Robert, I will be in Norway May 17th next year ... I'm committed!
love to you all,
kt
Turns out I missed my flight to Norway. I won't go into the tears and frustration, but instead will tell you I salvaged my weekend by flying to Vienna to visit the family of my dear friends Becca and Benj. It's been glorious weather and I still got to visit continental Europe for the first time. {Can I also tell you that Saturday night was the first night I slept in a bed since Tuesday? Fantastic...}
As for visiting my friends Inki and Robert, I will be in Norway May 17th next year ... I'm committed!
love to you all,
kt
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Hello Tommy!
I'd like to introduce you all to my newest nephew:
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- Born 10:25 pm Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
- 7lbs 9 oz
It seemed probable a week ago that Nephew #2 would arrive before my trip, but today I acknowledged that I would probably not meet my nephew until after I returned.
I was wrong!
When I got out of the temple tonight, I had a voice message that Laura had gone into labor. I was able to go directly to the hospital and meet Tommy just 10 minutes after he was born :)
He looks a lot like Brady - he is beautiful! I got to cuddle him while Laura ate and both of them are very healthy and doing "more than perfect" (says the Nurse).
I'm so grateful I got to be there with my sister (and brother-in-law and mother) and to welcome little Tommy here. I know Brady will love him and be a great older brother. I love nephews !!!
Photo #2: Laura (mom) with baby Tommy
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Photos #3 & #4: Baby Tommy just received eye ointment and is being cuddled by Brock (dad)
.jpg)
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.jpg)
- Born 10:25 pm Wednesday, May 13th, 2009
- 7lbs 9 oz
It seemed probable a week ago that Nephew #2 would arrive before my trip, but today I acknowledged that I would probably not meet my nephew until after I returned.
I was wrong!
When I got out of the temple tonight, I had a voice message that Laura had gone into labor. I was able to go directly to the hospital and meet Tommy just 10 minutes after he was born :)
He looks a lot like Brady - he is beautiful! I got to cuddle him while Laura ate and both of them are very healthy and doing "more than perfect" (says the Nurse).
I'm so grateful I got to be there with my sister (and brother-in-law and mother) and to welcome little Tommy here. I know Brady will love him and be a great older brother. I love nephews !!!
Photo #2: Laura (mom) with baby Tommy
.jpg)
Photos #3 & #4: Baby Tommy just received eye ointment and is being cuddled by Brock (dad)
.jpg)
.jpg)
Gone Fishing
Dearest Friends,
My backpack arrived today and so I am leaving for 2 weeks on vacation. I am going to Europe* and the exotic Midwest**.
I love you, I'll miss you and my iPhone, but it's time I go exploring...
xoxo
kt
*London, Bergen & Oxford
**St. Louis & Chicago
My backpack arrived today and so I am leaving for 2 weeks on vacation. I am going to Europe* and the exotic Midwest**.
I love you, I'll miss you and my iPhone, but it's time I go exploring...
xoxo
kt
*London, Bergen & Oxford
**St. Louis & Chicago
Sunday, May 10, 2009
To the mothers in my life,
Grandma,When I am with you, I am home. Being with you fills my heart with a deep warmth and sense of security - and gives me a vision of who I am beyond age and circumstance. I think that must be what heaven is like.
Mom,
I love your guileless wit, your tender heart, and your rich gifts with language. You are beautiful, patient, and wise. The lessons you have taught me of equality and compassion still resonate in my head; you have never talked "down" to me, nor have you ever taught me that I am "above" anyone else. Thank you for loving me no more and no less than your other children.
Laura,
Motherhood has crowned you with a beauty, grace, and serenity I hope to have someday. Your son is a testament to your sweet nature and disciplined character. "By their fruits ye shall know them," indeed. The love I have for your son, which is often expressed on this blog, is only an appendage of my love for you.
love
kt
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Laura as a Baby
Adorable, no? Just thought you should all see where my nephew gets his dimples and smiling eyes... xoxo
Friday, May 08, 2009
Thursday, May 07, 2009
A House of God
Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing; and establish a
house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a
house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God;
Should* I ever express, with a sigh, my love for the Temple while in the presence of my father, he would surely reply (without a pause, and without variation), "you know, kt, Jesus Christ is the pattern for our lives, and the temple is the pattern for our homes."
One of my father's most effective parenting methods has been consistent, strategic communication** and his practice in this case does not vary. And so I have thought about the principles behind how the temple is managed and decorated - with the aim of executing those strategies effectively, albeit differently, in my own home.
Order and Cleanliness
One of my resolutions this year is to have "a place for everything and everything in its place" - and working toward this has been incredibly satisfying. Moving twice in the last 9 months has given me ample opportunity to purge my possessions. Even my car is tidy in this moment.# Truly, I've exceeded my expectations for myself.## The final frontier is my small bookshelf and coming up with a system to manage my bills / personal papers.
Holiness
Let me hang the proverbial WIP sign on this one. After hearing secondhand about a wonderful address on worthy music, I have been trying to purge my iTunes and DVD collections. This is really challenging for me. Not because I have anything 'black,' but of course I have lots of 'gray' (I will reserve my preferred 'grey' spelling for good greys. like shoes.). Do certain songs by the Beatles and Michael Jackson get grandfathered in? What about movies with fast cars and fast women (or ballerina dancers for that matter..) ? It's a difficulty, and I'm working through it.
Appearance
I have strong convictions about the relationship between the spirit and body. If the temple is a metaphor for our bodies and a pattern for our homes, then the appearance of our homes must also be significant. I don't mean tidiness/cleanliness, but the actual decoration.
But surely my apartment does not need to be decorated exactly like a temple, right? (right??) Firstly, I've seen quite the variation in temple decor. Secondly, I like lots of bright colors and whilst some temples have quite a bit of color, I find it is more subdued than I would like in my own home. Thirdly, as the function of a home varies from a temple, so (I presume) the execution of these principles may.
And so, let's keep this high level. Here are the patterns I've noted thus far:
- Motifs are simple, primarily organic, but often geometric.
- Artwork is not exclusively "religious," but may depict nature, or family life (emphasizing local history /culture).
- White and gold are used extensively. Other commonly used colors include green, purple, and pink (again, colors often found in nature).
- Lots of wood, stone, glass, mirrors, chandeliers.
- An impression of light, simplicity, and open space.
I love the idea of strategically decorating my home using similar principles. I may use this as my "best" in the good better best spectrum. While I could end up collecting quite a bit of pop art (I love movies, pop culture, etc.), what would that emphasize and romanticize to my {future} children? What would I find myself thinking about when I am home in my leisure time? If the artwork reflects the beautiful world God has created, the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, and the joy of family, I can see that supporting the strategy for keeping an eye single to the glory of God and raising children to do so as well. I think that the more I model my home's decor after the temple, the more the temple will seem "like home" to me and my {future} family. The temple may be more soft, more sober, more subtle; but I would love for it to seem familiar - perhaps even an extension - of home.
* hypothetically speaking, I mean.
** remind me to give further evidence of this later...
# I consider my car to be an extension of my home. Indeed, I consider my personal email inbox and my work cubicle to be extensions as well.
## did I mention they were low?
Friday, May 01, 2009
Hooray for May!
I have to say that even MY love for poems has been satiated by National Poetry Month and I greet the month of May with relief. It will take something truly splendid to bring another poem anytime soon (You have my permission to take that as a challenge. However, if I were you, I'd save it for August's Haiku Challenge). Who knew that 30 poems would exhaust my supply and test my resourcefulness? Surely, I did not.Anyway, it's now May. And May is all about...
Mums!
So check these out:
Scary
Sad
Sweet
and
Real
ps. I sometimes wonder what kind of mum I will be. Here's my guess:
- bossy
- charming
- preachy
- entertaining
- exacting
- affectionate
- always right
Covenants: Source of Power
{I wrote this for my ward's May 2009 newsletter}
Last August, my cousin, 30, and his wife, 27, were in perfect health and beauty, but within the course of an afternoon, a private plane crash left them both severely burned – even in critical condition. Our family was filled with great pain and anxiety by the thought of the physical, mental, and emotional burdens they would now carry.
During this time, I found that the covenants made in the temple increased in significance and tenderness. As I attended regularly and performed each ordinance, I thought of how each promise I received had also been made to my cousins. The promise of the resurrection became more dear, physical blessings more tender.
In the past 9 months, our family has witnessed many miracles of healing. Most marvelous of all: seeing my cousin and his wife greet and bear these burdens with the endurance of faith. Their strength is a gift from God, given through the temple covenants they have made and kept.
In his recent conference address, “The Power of Covenants,” Elder Christofferson taught that God is the source of moral and spiritual power:
“The source [of power] is God. Our access to that power is through our covenants with Him. [And] we enter into covenants by priesthood ordinances.”
Elder Christofferson goes on to identify three ways that making and keeping covenants with God “gives us power to smile through hardships, to convert tribulation into triumph, to be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and bring to pass much righteousness.”
1. Gifts and Blessings - Obedience to covenants brings “a continual flow of blessings”.
"And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them" (1 Nephi 17:3)
2. Increased Faith - “[Covenants] produce the faith necessary to persevere and to do all things that are expedient in the Lord.”
"It was [faith] that enabled the ancient saints to endure all their afflictions and persecutions, and to take . . . not only the spoiling of their goods, and the wasting of their substance, joyfully, but also to suffer death in its most horrid forms; knowing (not merely believing) that when this earthly house of their tabernacle was dissolved, they had a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. (2 Cor. 5:1)" (Lectures on Faith [1985], 67).
3. The Bestowal of Divine Power – “In all the ordinances, especially those of the temple, we are endowed with power from on high. This power of godliness comes in the person and by the influence of the Holy Ghost.”
With Elder Christofferson, I testify that through sacred covenants we can grow in faith and godliness. I have witnessed the power of covenants in the life of my family and hope to feel their transforming power over the course of my own life, and that all of us “after … temptations, and much tribulation, … shall be converted, and [that Christ] will heal [us].” (D&C 112:13)
Last August, my cousin, 30, and his wife, 27, were in perfect health and beauty, but within the course of an afternoon, a private plane crash left them both severely burned – even in critical condition. Our family was filled with great pain and anxiety by the thought of the physical, mental, and emotional burdens they would now carry.
During this time, I found that the covenants made in the temple increased in significance and tenderness. As I attended regularly and performed each ordinance, I thought of how each promise I received had also been made to my cousins. The promise of the resurrection became more dear, physical blessings more tender.
In the past 9 months, our family has witnessed many miracles of healing. Most marvelous of all: seeing my cousin and his wife greet and bear these burdens with the endurance of faith. Their strength is a gift from God, given through the temple covenants they have made and kept.
In his recent conference address, “The Power of Covenants,” Elder Christofferson taught that God is the source of moral and spiritual power:
“The source [of power] is God. Our access to that power is through our covenants with Him. [And] we enter into covenants by priesthood ordinances.”
Elder Christofferson goes on to identify three ways that making and keeping covenants with God “gives us power to smile through hardships, to convert tribulation into triumph, to be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and bring to pass much righteousness.”
1. Gifts and Blessings - Obedience to covenants brings “a continual flow of blessings”.
"And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them" (1 Nephi 17:3)
2. Increased Faith - “[Covenants] produce the faith necessary to persevere and to do all things that are expedient in the Lord.”
"It was [faith] that enabled the ancient saints to endure all their afflictions and persecutions, and to take . . . not only the spoiling of their goods, and the wasting of their substance, joyfully, but also to suffer death in its most horrid forms; knowing (not merely believing) that when this earthly house of their tabernacle was dissolved, they had a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. (2 Cor. 5:1)" (Lectures on Faith [1985], 67).
3. The Bestowal of Divine Power – “In all the ordinances, especially those of the temple, we are endowed with power from on high. This power of godliness comes in the person and by the influence of the Holy Ghost.”
With Elder Christofferson, I testify that through sacred covenants we can grow in faith and godliness. I have witnessed the power of covenants in the life of my family and hope to feel their transforming power over the course of my own life, and that all of us “after … temptations, and much tribulation, … shall be converted, and [that Christ] will heal [us].” (D&C 112:13)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Very Like a Whale by Ogden Nash
One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to
go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told
That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?
In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience
To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of
Assyrians.
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and
thus hinder longevity.
We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were
gleaming in purple and gold,
Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a
wold on the fold?
In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy
there are great many things.
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple
and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was
actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;
Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red
mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof?
Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say,
at the very most,
Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian
cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he
had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,
With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers
to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of
wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets,
from Homer to Tennyson;
They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,
And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket
after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of
snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical
blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to
go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told
That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?
In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience
To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of
Assyrians.
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and
thus hinder longevity.
We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were
gleaming in purple and gold,
Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a
wold on the fold?
In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy
there are great many things.
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple
and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was
actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;
Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red
mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof?
Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say,
at the very most,
Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian
cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he
had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,
With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers
to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of
wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets,
from Homer to Tennyson;
They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,
And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket
after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of
snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical
blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Child by Carl Sandburg
The young child, Christ, is straight and wise
And asks questions of the old men, questions
Found under running water for all children
And found under shadows thrown on still waters
By tall trees looking downward, old and gnarled.
Found to the eyes of children alone, untold,
Singing a low song in the loneliness.
And the young child, Christ, goes on asking
And the old men answer nothing and only know love
For the young child. Christ, straight and wise.
And asks questions of the old men, questions
Found under running water for all children
And found under shadows thrown on still waters
By tall trees looking downward, old and gnarled.
Found to the eyes of children alone, untold,
Singing a low song in the loneliness.
And the young child, Christ, goes on asking
And the old men answer nothing and only know love
For the young child. Christ, straight and wise.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Different Ways to Pray by Naomi Shihab Nye
There was the method of kneeling,
a fine method, if you lived in a country
where stones were smooth.
The women dreamed wistfully of bleached courtyards,
hidden corners where knee fit rock.
Their prayers were weathered rib bones,
small calcium words uttered in sequence,
as if this shedding of syllables could somehow
fuse them to the sky.There were the men who had been shepherds so long
they walked like sheep.
Under the olive trees, they raised their arms—
Hear us! We have pain on earth!
We have so much pain there is no place to store it!
But the olives bobbed peacefully
in fragrant buckets of vinegar and thyme.
At night the men ate heartily, flat bread and white cheese,
and were happy in spite of the pain,
because there was also happiness.Some prized the pilgrimage,
wrapping themselves in new white linen
to ride buses across miles of vacant sand.
When they arrived at Mecca
they would circle the holy places,
on foot, many times,
they would bend to kiss the earth
and return, their lean faces housing mystery.While for certain cousins and grandmothers
the pilgrimage occurred daily,
lugging water from the spring
or balancing the baskets of grapes.
These were the ones present at births,
humming quietly to perspiring mothers.
The ones stitching intricate needlework into children’s dresses,
forgetting how easily children soil clothes.There were those who didn’t care about praying.
The young ones. The ones who had been to America.
They told the old ones, you are wasting your time.
Time?—The old ones prayed for the young ones.
They prayed for Allah to mend their brains,
for the twig, the round moon,
to speak suddenly in a commanding tone.And occasionally there would be one
who did none of this,
the old man Fowzi, for example, Fowzi the fool,
who beat everyone at dominoes,
insisted he spoke with God as he spoke with goats,
and was famous for his laugh
Monday, April 27, 2009
To My Child by Anne Campbell
You are the trip I did not take;
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.
You are the pearls I cannot buy;
You are my blue Italian lake;
You are my piece of foreign sky.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Forgetfulness by Billy Collins
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Child Moon by Carl Sandburg
The child's wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.
Friday, April 24, 2009
A child said, What is the grass? by Walt Whitman
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe
of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow
zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the
same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and
from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,
And here you are the mother's laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old
mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men
and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and
children?
They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait
at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
luckier.
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we
may see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe
of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow
zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the
same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and
from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,
And here you are the mother's laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old
mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths
for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men
and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring
taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and
children?
They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait
at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
luckier.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Crowning by Kevin Young
{I know that this post is late, but my sister is going into early labor and so I've been helping her with her 2-year-old and I'm headed to my older brother's MBA graduation today, so needless to say: I'm behind!}
Now that knowing means nothing,
now that you are more born
than being, more awake
than awaited, since I’ve seen
your hair deep inside mother,
a glimpse, grass in late
winter, early spring, watching
your mother’s pursed, throbbing,
purpled power, her pushing
you for one whole hour, two,
almost three, almost out,
maybe never, animal smell
and peat, breath and sweat
and mulch-matter, and at once
you descend, or drive, are driven
by mother’s body, by her will
and brilliance, by bowel,
by wanting and your hair
peering as if it could see, and I saw
you storming forth,
taproot, your cap of hair half
in, half out, and wait, hold
it there, the doctors say, and
she squeezing my hand, her face
full of fire, then groaning your face
out like a flower, blood-bloom,
crocussed into air, shoulders
and the long cord still rooting
you to each other, to the other
world, into this afterlife
among us living, the cord
I cut like an iris, pulsing,
then you wet against mother’s chest
still purple, not blue, not yet
red, no cry,
warming now, now opening
your eyes midnight
blue in the blue-black dawn.
Now that knowing means nothing,
now that you are more born
than being, more awake
than awaited, since I’ve seen
your hair deep inside mother,
a glimpse, grass in late
winter, early spring, watching
your mother’s pursed, throbbing,
purpled power, her pushing
you for one whole hour, two,
almost three, almost out,
maybe never, animal smell
and peat, breath and sweat
and mulch-matter, and at once
you descend, or drive, are driven
by mother’s body, by her will
and brilliance, by bowel,
by wanting and your hair
peering as if it could see, and I saw
you storming forth,
taproot, your cap of hair half
in, half out, and wait, hold
it there, the doctors say, and
she squeezing my hand, her face
full of fire, then groaning your face
out like a flower, blood-bloom,
crocussed into air, shoulders
and the long cord still rooting
you to each other, to the other
world, into this afterlife
among us living, the cord
I cut like an iris, pulsing,
then you wet against mother’s chest
still purple, not blue, not yet
red, no cry,
warming now, now opening
your eyes midnight
blue in the blue-black dawn.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Rain Light by WS Merwin
All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Making the House Ready for the Lord by Mary Oliver
Dear Lord, I have slept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice - it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances - but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
What shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice - it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances - but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
What shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.
Monday, April 20, 2009
it may not always be so; and i say by EE Cummings
it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be -
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be, i say if this should be -
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I Do Not Love You by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The Meyer Lemon by Laura Russon Hansen
mystery, texture
makes you want to pucker up
you are like this fruit
{This poem was presented to my roommate Ashli and me on the occasion of our birthdays in 2009}
makes you want to pucker up
you are like this fruit
{This poem was presented to my roommate Ashli and me on the occasion of our birthdays in 2009}
Friday, April 17, 2009
Not Easily by Jack Gilbert
When we get beyond beauty and pleasure,
to the other side of the heart (but short
of the spirit), we are confused about what
to do next. It is too easy to say arriving
is enough. To pretend the music
of the mountain needs only to be heard.
That the dance is known by the dancing,
and the lasagne is realized by eating it.
Not in this place on the other side
of desire. We can swim in the Aegean,
but we can't take it home. A man finds
a melon by the road and continues up
the hill thinking it is the warm melon
that will remain after he has forgotten
the ruins and sea of the summer. He tells
himself this even as the idea of the taste
is replacing what the melon tasted like.
to the other side of the heart (but short
of the spirit), we are confused about what
to do next. It is too easy to say arriving
is enough. To pretend the music
of the mountain needs only to be heard.
That the dance is known by the dancing,
and the lasagne is realized by eating it.
Not in this place on the other side
of desire. We can swim in the Aegean,
but we can't take it home. A man finds
a melon by the road and continues up
the hill thinking it is the warm melon
that will remain after he has forgotten
the ruins and sea of the summer. He tells
himself this even as the idea of the taste
is replacing what the melon tasted like.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Falling: The Code by Li-Young Lee
1.
Through the night
the apples
outside my window
one by one let go
their branches and
drop to the lawn.
I can't see, but hear
the stem-snap, the plummet
through leaves, then
the final thump against the ground.
Sometimes two
at once, or one
right after another.
During long moments of silence
I wait
and wonder about the bruised bodies,
the terror of diving through air, and
think I'll go tomorrow
to find the newly fallen, but they
all look alike lying there
dewsoaked, disappearing before me.
2.
I lie beneath my window listening
to the sound of apples dropping in
the yard, a syncopated code I long to know,
which continues even as I sleep, and dream I know
the meaning of what I hear, each dull
thud of unseen apple-
body, the earth
falling to earth
once and forever, over
and over.
Through the night
the apples
outside my window
one by one let go
their branches and
drop to the lawn.
I can't see, but hear
the stem-snap, the plummet
through leaves, then
the final thump against the ground.
Sometimes two
at once, or one
right after another.
During long moments of silence
I wait
and wonder about the bruised bodies,
the terror of diving through air, and
think I'll go tomorrow
to find the newly fallen, but they
all look alike lying there
dewsoaked, disappearing before me.
2.
I lie beneath my window listening
to the sound of apples dropping in
the yard, a syncopated code I long to know,
which continues even as I sleep, and dream I know
the meaning of what I hear, each dull
thud of unseen apple-
body, the earth
falling to earth
once and forever, over
and over.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
who knows if the moon's by EE Cummings
who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky-filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where
always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky-filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where
always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Isaiah 61:1-4
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;
To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.
And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.
I love this passage! All teaching and preaching should be directed by the Spirit and should be focused on healing, joy and comfort. I especially love the focus on exchanging joy for mourning. That where we have ashes, mourning, and the spirit of heaviness, we may receive beauty, the oil of joy, and the garment of praise.
Beauty, joy, praise - these are tools of nurturing. How appropriate it is that the image then is used of trees of righteousness, "the planting of the Lord." Truly we are the Lord's "pleasant plant" (Isaiah 5:7) and it is with these gifts that we flourish when we are children, and why not as adults?
i thank You God for most this amazing by EE Cummings
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Monday, April 13, 2009
Every Day is Monday by Ogden Nash
Monday is the day that everything starts all over again,
Monday is the day when just as you are beginning to feel peaceful you have to get up and get dressed and put on your old gray bonnet and drive down to Dover again,
It is the day when life becomes grotesque again,
Because it is the day when you have to face your desk again;
When the telephone rings on Saturday or Sunday you are pleased because it probably means something pleasing and you take the call with agility,
But when it rings on any other day it just usually means some additional responsibility,
And if in doubt,
Why the best thing to do is to answer it in a foreign accent or if you are a foreigner answer it in a native accent and say you are out.
Oh, there is not a week-day moment that can't wring a sigh from you,
Because you are always being confronted with people who want to sell you something, or if they don't want to sell you something, there is something they want to buy from you,
And every shining hour swaggers arrogantly up to you demanding to be improved,
And apparently not only to improve it, but also to shine it, is what you are behooved.
Oh for a remedy, oh for a panacea, oh for a something, oh yes, oh for a coma or swoon,
Yes indeed, oh for a coma that would last from nine A.M. on Monday until Saturday noon.
Monday is the day when just as you are beginning to feel peaceful you have to get up and get dressed and put on your old gray bonnet and drive down to Dover again,
It is the day when life becomes grotesque again,
Because it is the day when you have to face your desk again;
When the telephone rings on Saturday or Sunday you are pleased because it probably means something pleasing and you take the call with agility,
But when it rings on any other day it just usually means some additional responsibility,
And if in doubt,
Why the best thing to do is to answer it in a foreign accent or if you are a foreigner answer it in a native accent and say you are out.
Oh, there is not a week-day moment that can't wring a sigh from you,
Because you are always being confronted with people who want to sell you something, or if they don't want to sell you something, there is something they want to buy from you,
And every shining hour swaggers arrogantly up to you demanding to be improved,
And apparently not only to improve it, but also to shine it, is what you are behooved.
Oh for a remedy, oh for a panacea, oh for a something, oh yes, oh for a coma or swoon,
Yes indeed, oh for a coma that would last from nine A.M. on Monday until Saturday noon.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
After Love by Jack Gilbert
He is watching the music with his eyes closed.
Hearing the piano like a man moving
through the woods thinking by feeling.
The orchestra up in the trees, the heart below,
step by step. The music hurrying sometimes,
but always returning to quiet, like the man
remembering and hoping. It is a thing in us,
mostly unnoticed. There is somehow a pleasure
in the loss. In the yearning. The pain
going this way and that. Never again.
Never bodied again. Again the never.
Slowly. No undergrowth. Almost leaving.
A humming beauty in the silence.
The having been. Having had. And the man
knowing all of him will come to the end.
Hearing the piano like a man moving
through the woods thinking by feeling.
The orchestra up in the trees, the heart below,
step by step. The music hurrying sometimes,
but always returning to quiet, like the man
remembering and hoping. It is a thing in us,
mostly unnoticed. There is somehow a pleasure
in the loss. In the yearning. The pain
going this way and that. Never again.
Never bodied again. Again the never.
Slowly. No undergrowth. Almost leaving.
A humming beauty in the silence.
The having been. Having had. And the man
knowing all of him will come to the end.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Marriage by Lawrence Raab
Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Oda a la Tormenta (Ode to the Storm) by Pablo Neruda
{Spanish here.}
Last night
she
came,
livid,
night-blue,
wine-red :
the tempest
with her
hair of water,
eyes of cold fire -
last night she wanted
to sleep on earth.
She came all of a sudden
newly unleashed
out of her furious planet,
her cavern in the sky;
she longed for sleep
and made her bed :
sweeping jungles and highways,
sweeping mountains,
washing ocean stones,
and then
as if they were feathers,
ravaging pine trees
to make her bed.
She shook the lightning
from her quiver of fire,
dropped thunderclaps
like great barrels.
All of a sudden
there was silence :
a single leaf
gliding on air
like a flying violin -
then,
before
it touched the earth,
you took it
in your hands, great storm,
put all the winds to work
blowing their horns,
set the whole night
galloping with its horses,
all the ice whistling,
the wild
trees
groaning in misery
like prisoners,
the earth
moaning, a woman
giving birth,
in a single blow
you blotted out
the noise of grass
or stars,
tore
the numbed silence
like a handkerchief -
the world filled
with sound, fury, and fire,
and when the lightning flashes
fell like hair
from your shining forehead,
fell like swords
from your warrior's belt
and when we were about to think
that the world was ending,
then,
rain,
rain,
only
rain,
all earth, all
sky,
at rest,
the night
fell, bleeding to death
on human sleep,
nothing but rain,
water
of time and sky :
nothing had fallen
except a broken branch,
an empty nest.
With your musical
fingers,
with your hell-roar,
your fire
of volcanoes at night,
you played
at lifting a leaf,
gave strength to rivers,
taught
men
to be men,
the weak to fear,
the tender to cry,
the windows
to rattle -
but
when
you prepared to destroy us, when
like a dagger
fury fell from the sky,
when all the light
and shadow trembled
and the pines devoured
themselves howling
on the edge of the midnight sea,
you, delicate storm,
my beloved,
wild as you were,
did us no wrong :
but returned
to your star
and rain,
green rain,
rain full
of dreams and seeds,
mother
of harvests
rain,
world-washing rain,
draining it,
making it new,
rain for us
and for seeds,
rain
for the forgetting
of the dead
and for
tomorrow's bread -
only the rain
you left behind,
water and music,
for this,
I love you
storm,
speak to me,
return,
awaken me,
illuminate me,
show me your path
so that the strong
and stormy voice of a man
may join and sing your song with you.
Last night
she
came,
livid,
night-blue,
wine-red :
the tempest
with her
hair of water,
eyes of cold fire -
last night she wanted
to sleep on earth.
She came all of a sudden
newly unleashed
out of her furious planet,
her cavern in the sky;
she longed for sleep
and made her bed :
sweeping jungles and highways,
sweeping mountains,
washing ocean stones,
and then
as if they were feathers,
ravaging pine trees
to make her bed.
She shook the lightning
from her quiver of fire,
dropped thunderclaps
like great barrels.
All of a sudden
there was silence :
a single leaf
gliding on air
like a flying violin -
then,
before
it touched the earth,
you took it
in your hands, great storm,
put all the winds to work
blowing their horns,
set the whole night
galloping with its horses,
all the ice whistling,
the wild
trees
groaning in misery
like prisoners,
the earth
moaning, a woman
giving birth,
in a single blow
you blotted out
the noise of grass
or stars,
tore
the numbed silence
like a handkerchief -
the world filled
with sound, fury, and fire,
and when the lightning flashes
fell like hair
from your shining forehead,
fell like swords
from your warrior's belt
and when we were about to think
that the world was ending,
then,
rain,
rain,
only
rain,
all earth, all
sky,
at rest,
the night
fell, bleeding to death
on human sleep,
nothing but rain,
water
of time and sky :
nothing had fallen
except a broken branch,
an empty nest.
With your musical
fingers,
with your hell-roar,
your fire
of volcanoes at night,
you played
at lifting a leaf,
gave strength to rivers,
taught
men
to be men,
the weak to fear,
the tender to cry,
the windows
to rattle -
but
when
you prepared to destroy us, when
like a dagger
fury fell from the sky,
when all the light
and shadow trembled
and the pines devoured
themselves howling
on the edge of the midnight sea,
you, delicate storm,
my beloved,
wild as you were,
did us no wrong :
but returned
to your star
and rain,
green rain,
rain full
of dreams and seeds,
mother
of harvests
rain,
world-washing rain,
draining it,
making it new,
rain for us
and for seeds,
rain
for the forgetting
of the dead
and for
tomorrow's bread -
only the rain
you left behind,
water and music,
for this,
I love you
storm,
speak to me,
return,
awaken me,
illuminate me,
show me your path
so that the strong
and stormy voice of a man
may join and sing your song with you.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
The Weight of Sweetness by Li-Young Lee
No easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.
Song, wisdom, sadness, joy: sweetness
equals three of any of these gravities.
See a peach bend
the branch and strain the stem until
it snaps.
Hold the peach, try the weight, sweetness
and death so round and snug
in your palm.
And, so, there is
the weight of memory:
Windblown, a rain-soaked
bough shakes, showering
the man and the boy.
They shiver in delight,
and the father lifts from his son's cheek
one green leaf
fallen like a kiss.
The good boy hugs a bag of peaches
his father has entrusted
to him.
Now he follows
his father, who carries a bagful in each arm.
See the look on the boy's face
as his father moves
faster and farther ahead, while his own steps
flag, and his arms grow weak, as he labors
under the weight
of peaches.
Song, wisdom, sadness, joy: sweetness
equals three of any of these gravities.
See a peach bend
the branch and strain the stem until
it snaps.
Hold the peach, try the weight, sweetness
and death so round and snug
in your palm.
And, so, there is
the weight of memory:
Windblown, a rain-soaked
bough shakes, showering
the man and the boy.
They shiver in delight,
and the father lifts from his son's cheek
one green leaf
fallen like a kiss.
The good boy hugs a bag of peaches
his father has entrusted
to him.
Now he follows
his father, who carries a bagful in each arm.
See the look on the boy's face
as his father moves
faster and farther ahead, while his own steps
flag, and his arms grow weak, as he labors
under the weight
of peaches.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Doesn't Every Poet Write a Poem about Unrequited Love? by Mary Oliver
The flowers
I wanted to bring to you,
wild and wet
from the pale dunesand still smelling
of the summer night,
and still holding a moment or two
of the night cricket'shumble prayer,
would have been
so handsome
in your hands -so happy - I dare to say it -
in your hands -
yet your smile
would have been nowhereand maybe you would have tossed them
onto the ground,
or maybe, for tenderness,
you would have taken theminto your house
and given them water
and put them in a dark corner
out of reach.In matters of love
of this kind
there are things we long to do
but must not do.I would not want to see
your smile diminished.
And the flowers, anyway,
are happy just where they are,on the pale dunes,
above the cricket's humble nest,
under the blue sky
that loves us all.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Waiting and Finding by Jack Gilbert
While he was in kindergarten, everybody wanted to play
the tomtoms when it came time for that. You had to
run in order to get there first, and he would not.
So he always had a triangle. He does not remember
how they played the tomtoms, but he sees clearly
their Chinese look. Red with dragons front and back
and gold studs around that held the drumhead tight.
If you had a triangle, you didn’t really make music.
You mostly waited while the tambourines and tomtoms
went on a long time. Until there was a signal for all
triangle people to hit them the right way. Usually once.
Then it was tomtoms and waiting some more. But what
he remembers is the sound of the triangle. A perfect,
shimmering sound that has lasted all his long life.
Fading out and coming again after a while. Getting lost
and the waiting for it to come again. Waiting meaning
without things. Meaning love sometimes dying out,
sometimes being taken away. Meaning that often he lives
silent in the middle of the world’s music. Waiting
for the best to come again. Beginning to hear the silence
as he waits. Beginning to like the silence maybe too much.
the tomtoms when it came time for that. You had to
run in order to get there first, and he would not.
So he always had a triangle. He does not remember
how they played the tomtoms, but he sees clearly
their Chinese look. Red with dragons front and back
and gold studs around that held the drumhead tight.
If you had a triangle, you didn’t really make music.
You mostly waited while the tambourines and tomtoms
went on a long time. Until there was a signal for all
triangle people to hit them the right way. Usually once.
Then it was tomtoms and waiting some more. But what
he remembers is the sound of the triangle. A perfect,
shimmering sound that has lasted all his long life.
Fading out and coming again after a while. Getting lost
and the waiting for it to come again. Waiting meaning
without things. Meaning love sometimes dying out,
sometimes being taken away. Meaning that often he lives
silent in the middle of the world’s music. Waiting
for the best to come again. Beginning to hear the silence
as he waits. Beginning to like the silence maybe too much.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Bergen, Norway
I'm going to visit my dear friends Inki & Robert who live in Bergen, Norway in May and I was just looking at flikr sets getting excited. I thought I would make a mosaic and show you where I will be on May 15th!
On His Blindness by Milton
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Personal Revelation (Part 3)
And what does God want to reveal to us?
Confirmation of testimonies born to you
Confirmation of testimonies born to you
- "Being filled with the Holy Ghost, which beareth record of the Father and the Son" - Moses 1:24
- "[Alma] believed the words which Abinadi had spoken" Mosiah 16:2
- "If he will bow down before me, and humble himself in mighty prayer and faith, in the sincerity of heart, then will I grant unto him a view of the things which he desires to see." D&C 5:24
- "the Spirit cried witha loud voice, saying ... blessed art thou, Nephi, because thou believest in the Son of the most high God; wherefore, thou shalt behold the things which thou hast desired." 1 Nephi 11:6
When others bear witness of truth to us (written or spoken), we can receive revelation from God that what they have said is true. Whether this is in the moment of their testimony or in the private moments of prayer, we can receive that confirmation for ourselves.
April: National Poetry Month
In honour of National Poetry Month, I am going to take up the extremely grand effort of posting one poem each day for the month of April (!)*
I know this is pretty ambitious, and for those of you who are not as excited about the poems I post, I will make a special effort to write other types of posts.
Please feel free to share a favorite poem and I'll post it (if I like it haha)! you can email them to me at frannykt (at) gmail
love
kt
*I'll be backposting through April 1st so that we've got one for each day of the month.
I know this is pretty ambitious, and for those of you who are not as excited about the poems I post, I will make a special effort to write other types of posts.
Please feel free to share a favorite poem and I'll post it (if I like it haha)! you can email them to me at frannykt (at) gmail
love
kt
*I'll be backposting through April 1st so that we've got one for each day of the month.
The History of Forgetting by Lawrence Raab
When Adam and Eve lived in the garden
they hadn't yet learned how to forget.
For them every day was the same day.
Flowers opened, then closed.
They went where the light told them to go.
They slept when it left, and did not dream.
What could they have remembered,
who had never been children? Sometimes
Adam felt a soreness in his side,
but if this was pain it didn't appear
to require a name, or suggest the idea
that anything else might be taken away.
The bright flowers unfolded,
swayed in the breeze.
It was the snake, of course, who knew
about the past—that such a place could exist.
He understood how people would yearn
for whatever they'd lost, and so to survive
they'd need to forget. Soon
the garden will be gone, the snake
thought, and in time God himself.
These were the last days—Adam and Eve
tending the luxurious plants, the snake
watching from above. He knew
what had to happen next, how persuasive
was the taste of that apple. And then
the history of forgetting would begin—
not at the moment of their leaving,
but the first time they looked back.
they hadn't yet learned how to forget.
For them every day was the same day.
Flowers opened, then closed.
They went where the light told them to go.
They slept when it left, and did not dream.
What could they have remembered,
who had never been children? Sometimes
Adam felt a soreness in his side,
but if this was pain it didn't appear
to require a name, or suggest the idea
that anything else might be taken away.
The bright flowers unfolded,
swayed in the breeze.
It was the snake, of course, who knew
about the past—that such a place could exist.
He understood how people would yearn
for whatever they'd lost, and so to survive
they'd need to forget. Soon
the garden will be gone, the snake
thought, and in time God himself.
These were the last days—Adam and Eve
tending the luxurious plants, the snake
watching from above. He knew
what had to happen next, how persuasive
was the taste of that apple. And then
the history of forgetting would begin—
not at the moment of their leaving,
but the first time they looked back.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Gethsemane by Mary Oliver
The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.
Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.
Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move,
maybe,
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.
Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.
Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.
Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move,
maybe,
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.
Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Hope is a Tattered Flag by Carl Sandburg
via Reija
Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time.
Hope is a heartspun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white
The evening star inviolable over the coal mines,
The shimmer of northern lights across a bitter winter night,
The blue hills beyond the smoke of the steel works,
The birds who go on singing to their mates in peace, war, peace,
The ten-cent crocus bulb blooming in a used-car salesroom,
The horseshoe over the door, the luckpiece in the pocket,
The kiss and the comforting laugh and resolve—
Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
The spring grass showing itself where least expected,
The rolling fluff of white clouds on a changeable sky,
The broadcast of strings from Japan, bells from Moscow,
Of the voice of the prime minister of Sweden carried
Across the sea in behalf of a world family of nations
And children singing chorals of the Christ child
And Bach being broadcast from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
And tall skyscrapers practically empty of tenants
And the hands of strong men groping for handholds
And the Salvation Army singing God loves us...
Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time.
Hope is a heartspun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white
The evening star inviolable over the coal mines,
The shimmer of northern lights across a bitter winter night,
The blue hills beyond the smoke of the steel works,
The birds who go on singing to their mates in peace, war, peace,
The ten-cent crocus bulb blooming in a used-car salesroom,
The horseshoe over the door, the luckpiece in the pocket,
The kiss and the comforting laugh and resolve—
Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.
The spring grass showing itself where least expected,
The rolling fluff of white clouds on a changeable sky,
The broadcast of strings from Japan, bells from Moscow,
Of the voice of the prime minister of Sweden carried
Across the sea in behalf of a world family of nations
And children singing chorals of the Christ child
And Bach being broadcast from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
And tall skyscrapers practically empty of tenants
And the hands of strong men groping for handholds
And the Salvation Army singing God loves us...
Thursday, April 02, 2009
This is Love by Rumi
This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of live.
In the end, to take a step without feet;
to regard this world as invisible,
and to disregard what appears to be the self.
Heart, I said, what a gift it has been
to enter this circle of lovers,
to see beyond seeing itself,
to reach and feel within the breast.
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
First, to let go of live.
In the end, to take a step without feet;
to regard this world as invisible,
and to disregard what appears to be the self.
Heart, I said, what a gift it has been
to enter this circle of lovers,
to see beyond seeing itself,
to reach and feel within the breast.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
A Word on Wind by Ogden Nash
Cows go around saying Moo,
But the wind goes around saying Woooo.
Ghosts say Woooo to you, too,
But everybody has heard the wind and few people have heard a ghost,
So it is commonly supposed that the wind says Woooo the most.
Scientists try to tell us that wind is caused by atmospheric conditions at the North Pole or over distant Canadian ranches,
But I guess scientists don't ever get to the country because everybody who has ever been in the country knows that wind is caused by the trees waggling their branches.
On the ocean, where there are no trees, they refer to the wind as gales,
And it is probably caused by whales,
And in the Sahara, where there are no trees or whales either, they call the wind simoom or something,
And it is the result of the profanation of Tutankhamen's tomb or something.
Ill winds blow nobody good and they also blow new hats into mud puddles and voracious clouds of mosquitoes into propinquity with your hide,
And they make your cigarette burn down on just one side.
Some people are very refined,
And when they recite poetry or sing songs they pronounce wind, wined.
Well, dear wined, every time you say Wooooo,
Why I wish you would say it to people who say wined, right after you have said it somewhere where somebody is making fertilizer or glue.
But the wind goes around saying Woooo.
Ghosts say Woooo to you, too,
But everybody has heard the wind and few people have heard a ghost,
So it is commonly supposed that the wind says Woooo the most.
Scientists try to tell us that wind is caused by atmospheric conditions at the North Pole or over distant Canadian ranches,
But I guess scientists don't ever get to the country because everybody who has ever been in the country knows that wind is caused by the trees waggling their branches.
On the ocean, where there are no trees, they refer to the wind as gales,
And it is probably caused by whales,
And in the Sahara, where there are no trees or whales either, they call the wind simoom or something,
And it is the result of the profanation of Tutankhamen's tomb or something.
Ill winds blow nobody good and they also blow new hats into mud puddles and voracious clouds of mosquitoes into propinquity with your hide,
And they make your cigarette burn down on just one side.
Some people are very refined,
And when they recite poetry or sing songs they pronounce wind, wined.
Well, dear wined, every time you say Wooooo,
Why I wish you would say it to people who say wined, right after you have said it somewhere where somebody is making fertilizer or glue.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Personal Revelation (Part 2)
And what does God want to reveal to us?
That you are a child of God, that He loves you and knows you by name.
That you are a child of God, that He loves you and knows you by name.
- Abraham, Enoch, Moses, Enos, Joseph Smith, all addressed by name.
- "I am the Lord God Almighty ... and, behold, thou art my son..." (Moses 1:3-4)
- "Enoch, my son ..." (Moses 6:27)
- "Behold, thou art Hyrum, my son..." (D&C 11:23)
- "And the Lord came, and stood, and called as at other times, Samuel, Samuel. Then Samuel answered, Speak; for thy servant heareth." (1 Samuel 3:10)
- "For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39)
- "Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands.. Unto [them] have I said that they should love one another and that they should choose me, their Father." (Moses 7:32-33)
God knows your name and mine and one of the ways you can know you are receiving personal revelation is when you feel His love and know that He knows you by name.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
KT in Japan (?)
I installed gears on my PC so that it would automatically communicate my location to Google Latitude.
Today, when I logged on to Google Latitude, instead of San Mateo, my location was:
Nagoya, Aichi
Japan
(awesome!)
Today, when I logged on to Google Latitude, instead of San Mateo, my location was:
Nagoya, Aichi
Japan
(awesome!)
Monday, March 23, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Personal Revelation (Part 1)
This weekend I taught a workshop on Personal Revelation in my stake Relief Society's Women's Conference. Since I am not an expert on personal revelation, I spent quite a bit of time studying to prepare. What follows are my notes:
1) What is Personal Revelation?
"Communication from God to the individual"
2) What is the purpose of Personal Revelation? Or, in other words, why should God communicate to the individual?
Personal revelation allows us to not be overcome and to not be deceived - it gives us light, truth, and unshakeable faith.
Stay tuned and I'll address each of these in separate posts.
1) What is Personal Revelation?
"Communication from God to the individual"
2) What is the purpose of Personal Revelation? Or, in other words, why should God communicate to the individual?
Personal revelation allows us to not be overcome and to not be deceived - it gives us light, truth, and unshakeable faith.
- All victory and glory is brought to pass unto you through your diligence, faithfulness, and prayers of faith. - D&C 103:36
- Put your trust in that Spirit, which leadeth to do good -- yea, to do justly, to walk humbly, to judge righteously: and this is my spirit. ...I will impart unto you of my Spirit, which shall enlighten your mind. Which shall fill your soul with joy; and then shall ye know, or by this shall you know, all things whatsoever you desire of me, which are pertaining unto things of righteousness, in faith believing in me that you shall receive. - D&C 11:12-14
- He that asketh in the Spirit asketh according to the will of God. - D&C 46:30
- Desiring to be a greater follower of righteousness, and to posses a greater knowledge ... and desiring to receive instructions, and to keep the commandments of God. - Abraham 1:2
- Nevertheless, after much tribulation, the Lord did hear my cries, and did answer my prayers, and has made me an instrument in his hands - Mosiah 23:10
- Why has your moral agency been given to you? Only to live a pleasurable life and to make choices to do the things you want to do? Or is there a more fundamental reason—to be able to make the choices that will lead you to fully implement your purpose for being here on earth and to establish priorities in your life that will assure the development and happiness the Lord wants you to receive. - Richard G. Scott
- Wherefore, enter ye in at the gate, as I have commanded, and seek not to counsel your God - D&C 22:4
Stay tuned and I'll address each of these in separate posts.
Friday, March 13, 2009
KT loves the Temple
For those of you who don't know, I work / volunteer at my church's temple in Oakland on Wednesdays (4pm-10pm shift). You can learn more about why we build and worship at temples here (and why I love to work there!):
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Starlight by Philip Levine
My father stands in the warm evening
on the porch of my first house.
I am four years old and growing tired.
I see his head among the stars,
the glow of his cigarette, redder
than the summer moon riding
low over the old neighborhood. We
are alone, and he asks me if I am happy.
"Are you happy?" I cannot answer
I do not really understand the word,
and the voice, my father's voice, is not
his voice, but somehow thick and choked,
a voice I have not heard before, but
heard often since. He bends and passes
a thumb beneath each of my eyes.
The cigarette is gone, but I can smell
the tiredness that hangs on his breath.
He has found nothing, and he smiles
and holds my head with both his hands.
Then he lifts me to his shoulder,
and now I too am there among the stars,
as tall as he. Are you happy? I say.
He nods in answer, Yes! oh yes! oh yes!
And in that new voice he says nothing,
holding my head tight against his head,
his eyes closed up against the starlight,
as though those tiny blinking eyes
of light might find a tall, gaunt child
holding his child against the promises
of autumn, until the boy slept
never to waken in that world again.
on the porch of my first house.
I am four years old and growing tired.
I see his head among the stars,
the glow of his cigarette, redder
than the summer moon riding
low over the old neighborhood. We
are alone, and he asks me if I am happy.
"Are you happy?" I cannot answer
I do not really understand the word,
and the voice, my father's voice, is not
his voice, but somehow thick and choked,
a voice I have not heard before, but
heard often since. He bends and passes
a thumb beneath each of my eyes.
The cigarette is gone, but I can smell
the tiredness that hangs on his breath.
He has found nothing, and he smiles
and holds my head with both his hands.
Then he lifts me to his shoulder,
and now I too am there among the stars,
as tall as he. Are you happy? I say.
He nods in answer, Yes! oh yes! oh yes!
And in that new voice he says nothing,
holding my head tight against his head,
his eyes closed up against the starlight,
as though those tiny blinking eyes
of light might find a tall, gaunt child
holding his child against the promises
of autumn, until the boy slept
never to waken in that world again.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Isaiah 49:22
They shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
How to Love the Dead by Jack Gilbert
She lives, the bird says, and means nothing
silly. She is dead and available,
the fox says, knowing about the spirits.
Not the picture at the funeral,
not the object of grieving. She is dead
and you can have that, he says. If you can
love without politeness or delicacy,
the fox says, love her with your wolf heart.
As the dead are to be desired.
Not the way long marriages are,
nothing happening again and again.
Not in the woods or in the fields.
Not in the cities. The painful love of being
permanently unhoused. Not color, but the stain.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Bread and the Knife by Billy Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter, or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry,
I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter, or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry,
I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Failing and Falling by Jack Gilbert
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly.
Like being there by that summer ocean
on the other side of the island while
love was fading out of her, the stars
burning so extravagantly those nights that
anyone could tell you they would never last.
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
Each afternoon I watched her coming back
through the hot stony field after swimming,
the sea light behind her and the huge sky
on the other side of that. Listened to her
while we ate lunch. How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.
Abraham 3:17
There is nothing that the Lord thy God shall take in his heart to do but what he will do it.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Stress Buster #52
Have an optimistic view of the world. Believe that most people are doing the best
they can.
Elder Milton R. Hunter once stressed that “the measure of a people’s happiness comes in proportion to the amount of love they have in their hearts for their fellowmen” (Conference Report, Oct. 1966, p. 39).
From the 1993 Ensign:
Judge not unrighteously. One of the most common human frailties is the urge to find fault with the actions of those around us. Visit a kindergarten class, and you’ll see children tattle with gusto. Visit a high school class, and you’ll see that young people no longer tattle, but they do criticize each other for even little things that go wrong. Visit an office, and you’ll see that the problem even exists among adults.
The Savior has given us some guidelines to follow:
“Judge not unrighteously, that ye be not judged: but judge righteous judgment.
“For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” (JST, Matt. 7:2–3.)
So, what is unrighteous judgment? Being critical of others’ shortcomings, mistakes, and weaknesses, or complaining about what others do or do not do.
What is righteous judgment? It is diligently watching for those things others do well and then openly and generously acknowledging those efforts. Allowing others their imperfections. Striving to positively influence all with whom you come in contact. It is also responding to your conscience and making wise decisions about right and wrong.
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