Wednesday, January 22, 2014

when you are most yourself






From a poem by Linda Pastan:


I remember what my father told me:
There is an age when you are most yourself.
He was just past fifty then,
Was it something about the trees that make him speak?


{read the rest of the poem here}

The poem is a pantoum - you'll notice the repeating lines as you go along. There's a line in the poem that caught my eye: "in my sleep it's never winter."

Have you reached an age where you are most yourself? When you dream, is it ever winter?

I sometimes think that I am most myself in winter, that it's winter in all my dreams....




The flowers we bought at Costco are still hanging in. You'll notice the dog blur in the background. 

And here he is asleep with his eyes open.....he'd found a little sliver of sun.....which moved all too quickly....






Just Delicate Needles -

by Rolf Jacobsen

It's so delicate, the light.
And there's so little of it. The dark
is huge.
Just delicate needles, the light,
in an endless night.
And it has such a long way to go
through such desolate space.

So let's be gentle with it.
Cherish it.
So it will come again in the morning.
We hope.





And here is the light in the afternoon, delicate needles. A painting Rob did on paper when we lived in our last house, so over 15 years ago. It's an image of our then living room as reflected in a gazing ball, or mirror ball.




And here: early evening, the light fades quickly still. Rob is reading a book in the background. We are cherishing the light, so it will come again in the morning. 



8 comments:

  1. Oh, my breath caught in my throat. I love this. Thank you. xo

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  2. The poem by Linda Pastan made me cry a big belly cry ... I'll be 53 on the weekend and I still don't know if I'm most myself! Thank you, Shawna, for all the beauty that you share with us. I so love my daily visits with you! Oh, and as far as Costco flowers are concerned, I'm a florist by trade and when I buy flowers for my home, I always buy them from Costco for exactly the same reason - they last soooo long!

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    1. So glad you loved that poem! And the flowers - it's getting a bit freaky how long they're lasting lol!

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  3. I hadn't thought to cherish the light...because it comes from such a long way away, but yes, how precarious, how delicate everything is. Thank you Shawna.

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  4. I loved Linda Pastan's poem. I know that I am most myself in winter, though I'm not sure if I've reached the age of feeling most like myself. Maybe it's looming... but not in summer.

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    1. Yes, I love summer, but feel more myself in winter, too.

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