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Monday, July 20, 2015

the thing i may be trying to tell you




That Sweet Moon Language

by Hafiz

Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them, 
“Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud, 
otherwise
someone would call the authorities.

Still, though, think about this, 
this great pull in us to
connect.

Why not become the one who lives with a
full moon in each eye that is
always saying,

with that sweet moon 
language,

what every other eye in
this world is
dying to
hear?






The subject today is that moon language. The subject is love. 

I was going through my bookmarks and deleting things when I came across something I've shared a couple of times here. It's a piece by Ayse Papaya Bucak titled, "An Address to My Fellow Faculty Who Have Asked Me to Speak About My Work." I was wondering if she'd written or published anything since this appeared in Brevity in January of 2014. I was hoping so. One thing I found was an incredible essay in The Rumpus. "Three Things I have Never Told Anyone." 

This is an excerpt but you should read the whole thing:

"Second, I have decided that if I am, at the moment of my death, cognizant that it is the moment of my death, I will think only the word love. I will not try to remember my own history of love, will not name my loved ones, nor recall the moments of our love, but will trust that the word will carry in it the feeling: love, and that will carry me into death. 
Third, upon reading Rumi one day, I decided to replace the image of a beating red heart inside of my chest cavity with the image of the bright blue globe, and ever since I have carried the earth inside of me instead of my heart, I have felt such relief in the acceptance of my responsibility."
and
"And so I think the thing I may be trying to tell you is: we are all keeping each other company in our dying. Even now. While I am trying to tell you something."






If the subject today is love, then how could I omit the brand new beautiful image of Pluto from our discussion?









I read The Green Road by Anne Enright this past week, and it didn't disappoint. I didn't know a thing about the novel before I began. Had read not a single review. I sometimes think this is the best way to go into a book. I'd read The Gathering. That was enough recommendation for me.

There is a passage in the book, which is maybe incidental to talking about the book, but it talks about the Japanese conceptual artist, On Kawara and his piece, "I am still alive." There is also the project, "I am alive. I got up." You can read about them here.





And if you are still alive, how can you not love the world?

A poem from the Poetry International site, but the Italian writer Franco Loi:



How I love the world, the air, its breath!

by Franco Loi

How I love the world, the air, its breath!
the trees, the grass, the sun, those houses, the lovely streets,
the ever-changing moon, the ivy over the houses;
I like the saltiness of the sea, mad kidding about,
cups between friends, fir-trees in the wind
and all God’s things, even the meanest,
and the trams that pass by, the window panes that shine,
backs hurriedly turned and lowered eyes,
the woman who perturbs you:
the world is there and seems to wait for you
to look it in the eye, for you to heed it
since it’s always there but easy to forget,
to be distracted from it, to nod off…
But when evening’s shadows come,
how the world calls out to you! how that sky
expands and comes upon you in its true
beauty without flaws or kinks in its reflections,
and then for your completion you change colour.









“Everything has been figured out, except how to live.”

- Jean-Paul Sartre




So this week I'm giving myself the assignment to write about three things I've never told anyone. Though, of course:

"You have to be insane to confide the essential to anyone anywhere except in a poem."

- Nicole Brossard, Intimate Journal


How to live, how to love the world, these are the ongoing questions. How to keep each other company, how to tell another what they need to hear. How to hold the word, love, in your mouth, suspend it in your chest cavity?





Above and below, my writing spot in the backyard which I can't seem to get to often enough this year. The scarlet runner beans I planted from seeds, the poppies, also from seeds.








The sour cherries on our Evan's cherry tree have started to ripen. I'm half thinking of letting the birds have them this year as they're so much work to pick and process. We usually leave some of them, and it's lovely to see the birds in the tree in the winter.









My little buddha garden, from another angle.






The usual blue bench that I threaten to paint another colour every year, but which remains blue.









And now, let's take a short walk, shall we?

At this point you can see the field beyond the gates has been mown. 

















The thing you can't see in the photos is the abundance of grasshoppers. I have to admit I don't enjoy the critters and there are so many you can't take a step without ten of them leaping up. 











We've finally had a couple of good days and nights of rain, and the skies have been beautifully dramatic. 













Next, a few photos of weeds.....

















And lastly, the hay, which has since been taken up and moved.







5 comments:

  1. Beautiful post Shawna.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lovely images. I always love when your pup shows up!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I love your garden, your flowers, your weeds, your Buddhas and of course, your Ace! AND I love that your bench is still blue.

    I found On Kawara's projects strangely fascinating, thanks for the link. I want to read more about him now. And speaking of reading, I did start "Hour of the Star" but got distracted when my sons came home for a visit. I need to delve back in.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I, too, love hay bales. I ALWAYS want to photograph them.

    ReplyDelete

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