Silly Imp

Demeter’s Prayer to Hades

This alone is what I wish for you: knowledge.
To understand each desire has an edge,
to know we are responsible for the lives
we change. No faith comes without cost,
no one believes without dying.
Now for the first time
I see clearly the trail you planted,
what ground opened to waste,
though you dreamed a wealth
of flowers.

                    There are no curses – only mirrors
held up to the souls of gods and mortals.
And so I give up this fate, too.
Believe in yourself,
go ahead – see where it gets you.

(By Rita Dove, 1952)

An excerpt from “Mass for the Day of
St. Thomas Didymus”: Gloria
By Denise Levertov

Praise the wet snow
     falling early.
Praise the shadow
     my neighbor’s chimney casts on the tile roof
even this gray October day that should, they say,
have been golden.
                                 Praise
the invisible sun burning beyond
     the white cold sky, giving us
light and the chimney’s shadow.
Praise
god or the gods, the unknown,
that which imagined us, which stays
our hand,
our murderous hand,
                                  and gives us
still,
in the shadow of death,
     our daily life,
     and the dream still
of goodwill, of peace on earth.
Praise
flow and change, night and
the pulse of day.

I must thank the lovely Meredith, who reminded me of this Rumi poem by posting it as her Facebook status today.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be cleaning you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
Because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond.

                   ~ Rumi

Translation by Coleman Barks

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

                    ~ William Blake

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

                          ~Rudyard Kipling

I really must get in the habit of checking in here more frequently; and posting! Oh, how I've missed posting. It seems my time these days is in mini-nibble-sized pieces. Not even enough time to chew a full bite.

Anyway, I am still alive and lurking; even if only every week or two.

This is one of those that I think is better read as a poem than how Leonard Cohen set it to music. But I love the chant version of the chorus, as adapted by Alphonsus.

Anthem
(Leonard Cohen)

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.

Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government --
signs for all to see.

I can't run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
a thundercloud
and they're going to hear from me.

Ring the bells that still can ring ...

You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.

I have to share this here. It is totally taken from Magical Eating:

I was thinking about how the kitchen is such a metaphor for life:

• Salt is like enthusiasm — add at the beginning and the middle, but reserve some for the end.
• Keep your tools sharp; pay attention as you use them.
• When you’re hot, sweaty, and exhausted, stop to appreciate the sauce you’re making.
• If it lacks flavor, try reducing.
• Always kiss the cook, especially if it’s you.

Sorry to sort of pop in here just when I need something...

I need space to store about a dozen rubbermaid-type boxes and some winter sports equipment. Before I go renting it, does anyone have space I can use. I'm willing to work out a financial arrangement.

Thanks

Phew. What a week. Couple of weeks actually. Most of my February contracts got delayed to a few weeks into March, which was already a very tight month, and writing madness ensued. Deadlines were all last week. Yesterday was reasonably quiet and I expect the same today. This is good because my office looks like an explosion hit it.

Part of that though is from moving the furniture in the office. When we installed the new baseboard heater in the office in the fall, it was too close to my filing cabinet and I couldn't open the bottom drawer completely. I really needed to get stuff out of it last week so in the midst of the writing madness I had moving madness too. It's all good though. I took the opportunity to swing my desk around, which seems to be working well for me. Bonus, I'm no longer sitting with my back to the north. (My Feng Shui friend tells me that sitting with our back to the north is bad for business this year.)

Despite the deadline lunacy, I had a really great week. Lots of great conversations with friends over lunch, drinks or the kitchen table. For some reason I find that I'm missing a lot of meaningful conversation in life these days (probably a consequence of being a winter hermit), so it was nice to actually engage frequently this week.

Okay back to work for me.