The Parting Glass (so many covers, so little time!)

No personal commentary now, but I loved the way the various parts of this post came together for me today from random corners of The Universe... 💞

SONG:  The Parting Glass by Hozier

BOOK:  Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change by Maggie Smith  

POEM:  The Opposite of Nostalgia by Eric Gamalinda

You are running away from everyone

who loves you,

from your family,

from old lovers, from friends.

They run after you with accumulations

of a former life, copper earrings,

plates of noodles, banners

of many lost revolutions.

You love to say the trees are naked now

because it never happens

in your country. This is a mystery

from which you will never

recover. And yes, the trees are naked now,

everything that still breathes in them

lies silent and stark

and waiting. You love October most

of all, how there is no word

for so much splendor.

This, too, is a source

of consolation. Between you and memory

everything is water. Names of the dead,

or saints, or history.

There is a realm in which

---no, forget, it,

it’s still too early to make anyone understand.

A man drives a stake

through his own heart

and afterwards the opposite of nostalgia

begins to make sense: he stops raking the leaves

and the leaves take over

and again he has learned

to let go.

QUOTE:  "Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out." ~ Robert Frost (thanks, Sheryl!)

2020 Vision (Danny Schmidt)

It's April 30, the last day of National Poetry Month, and I've enjoyed discovering and sharing so many new poems, many of which were written recently about the coronavirus and its short-term as well as far-reaching effects, both positive and negative.

I am actually quite proud of my discipline in putting together a blog post every day but, at this point, I will be scaling back to three times a week:  Mindful Monday, Wholehearted Wednesday, Feel Good Friday.  CheeZy, right?  I'm okay with that...  :-)

Reminder.  Tonight!  Shelter in Poems: A Virtual Reading, Thursday, April 30, 7:30 p.m. EDT:  The evening will include poems presented by:  Elizabeth Alexander, Sam Beam, Richard Blanco, Julia Bullock, Marilyn Chin, Rita Dove, Patrick Gaspard, Amanda Gorman, Joy Harjo, Juan Felipe Herrera, Edward Hirsch, Stephin Merritt, Maulik Pancholy, Alison Pill, Dan Rather, Alberto Ríos, Mustafa Shakir, Naomi Shihab Nye, Lorna Simpson, Amber Tamblyn. and other special guests.  The event will raise funds to support our free publications and programs, including our K-12 education program. As National Poetry Month comes to a close, many of us will have weathered a month of solitude in an act of solidarity to protect each other. During these weeks, poetry has brought us all closer together, even as we remain physically apart.


About today's song, from Danny Schmidt:

2020 has been a most extraordinary and challenging year. It’s been surreal to live through, in real time, what will almost certainly be the most significant defining event of our generation . . . without the hindsight which always makes historic outcomes appear inevitable. Because while hindsight might, indeed, be 20/20 . . . the year 2020 in real time has felt incredibly blurry, distorted, twisted, and astigmatic.

But even amidst the mayhem, fear, and anxiety of the Great Uncertainty, there’s been something beautiful in witnessing eight billion people regaining their balance and reconstructing their lives all at the same time, and all on the fly. And somehow, sharing the ordeal together has created a remarkable display of resilience, creativity of human spirit, relentlessness of human connection, and given rise to an emergent new culture, self-organized from out of the chaos.

And then there's the loss. The loss of our sense of invincibility, the loss of work, of purpose, of rhythm, of independence. And of course, the actual loss of life. With a little luck and some indefinite wait, we will hopefully regain most of what we've lost when this is all over . . . as most of those things were loaned away willingly in service to protecting the one thing that sadly can never be recovered.

“2020 Vision” is a song of my reflections and impressions on what we’ve lost, what we’ve learned, and what we’ve become collectively, at this point in time, somewhere in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020.



SONG:  2020 Vision by Danny Schmidt (lyrics included in the link)

BOOK:  Poetry in the Time of Coronavirus: The Anthology by Poets of The World, G.A. Cuddy (Editor), Charlotte Knauth (Illustrator)

POEM: National Poetry Month by Elaine Equi

When a poem

speaks by itself,
it has a spark

and can be considered

part of a divine
conversation.

Sometimes the poem weaves
like a basket around
two loaves of yellow bread.

"Break off a piece
of this April with its
raisin nipples," it says.

"And chew them slowly

under your pillow.
You belong in bed with me."

On the other hand,

when a poem speaks
in the voice of a celebrity

it is called television

or a movie.
"There is nothing to see,"

says Robert De Niro,

though his poem bleeds
all along the edges

like a puddle
crudely outlined
with yellow tape

at the crime scene
of spring.
"It is an old poem," he adds.

"And besides,
I was very young
when I made it."

QUOTE:  "A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness." ~ Robert Frost

Dark and Deep (David LaMotte)

I attended my first Folk Alliance conference in Albuquerque, New Mexico in 1999 - it was an incredible experience of sensory overload, as there are hundreds of showcase rooms, small and large, showcasing the talents of even more hundreds of musical artists. When someone tells you what time they're performing, it's important to ask a.m. or p.m. because, yes, there are actually sanctioned acts taking place at 2:30 in the morning... not to mention the unofficial songswapping until the dawn's early light. Sleep?!? - we don't need no stinkin' sleep... :-)

All this to say that somewhere along the way I was given a CD sampler of various artists and was able to listen to it the week after I returned home - the blog-titled song immediately resonated:

I remember this friend down in Florida

She used to get lost just for fun

She'd take any turn that presented itself

Just to see where the road might run

It's amazing the places they'd take her

The people and things that she'd find

I felt as if David was singing about me - when my family moved to Puerto Rico in January 1985 because of my husband's job transfer, the kids and I were immediately thrown into many unknown situations (because R was working 12-hour days). Robby was only a few months old at the time and Sarah was 3 1/2 - I would buckle them into their car seats and we would go off in search of... the local Sears to buy a plastic wading pool... the home of someone who was selling a used dishwasher... a friend we'd met at the hotel our first week there. Invariably we'd get "turned around" somehow... and Sarah would ask, in a semi-panic, "are we lost, Mom? are we lost?" - I'd always reply, in my calm-on-the-outside, not-at-all-sure-on-the-inside voice, "no, sweetie... we're just having an adventure"... :-)

It's still an ongoing family memory - I also forged a friendship with David a few years later and had a chance to tell him this story, at which he nodded wisely... <3

P.S. If you see a connection between David's song and Frost's poem, it's not accidental - David's tune was submitted to, and accepted for, Chapter One of the Songs Inspired By Literature (SIBL) project (and he's in very good company!).

SONG: Dark and Deep by David LaMotte

BOOK: The Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming by Catherine Keller

POEM: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it's queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there's some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

QUOTE: "To be on a quest is nothing more or less than to become an asker of questions." ~ Sam Keen

Am I Too Blue? (Lucinda Williams)

Okay... well... I need all the healing energy the universe can send in my direction - long story short... my computer has bluescreened (flatlined?). Long story long... I got home from work yesterday, logged on and was given the message my virtual memory was low (no jokes, please) - I closed out of all programs, ran a Clean Sweep through Norton and set it to defragment the disc while I was at a meeting - when I got home, the defragmentation was complete and I decided to reboot, figuring that would help clear the system...

The computer tried to restart, but kept defaulting to the above-mentioned blue screen, with a big-*ss STOP and then a lengthy error message - I did attempt to F8 each time to get myself into safe mode... but it wouldn't let me. After three tries last night, I turned it off and went to bed, hoping all would be well in the morning - an 8:00 a.m. log-on had the same azure/cerulean/denim/indigo/midnight/navy/periwinkle/royal/sky results...

I called my tech guy, who is coming over first thing tomorrow - in the meantime, I'm holding the vision/thinking positive/invoking the law of attraction/sending skyward thoughts/burning all the purple candles I can muster that the situation is resolvable...

I'm also realistic enough to know "it is what it is" and am resigned to the fact I'll have to be okay with zero retrieval of data, despite the fact so much of my life (family/friends/concert series/folk club/festival/church/etc.) is documented and organized on my hard drive - just typing that threatens to turn my breathing to hyperventilation...

I did a bit of googling and came up with the Blue Screen of Death (BSOD) - that doesn't sound good, does it? (rhetorical f*cking question)...

SONG: Am I Too Blue? by Lucinda Williams

BOOK: Zen Computer by Philip Toshio Sudo

POEM(S): Haiku Error Messages (Salon's 21st Challenge)

Three things are certain:

Death, taxes, and lost data.

Guess which has occurred.
-- David Dixon

Everything is gone;

Your life's work has been destroyed.

Squeeze trigger (yes/no)?
-- David Carlson

I'm sorry, there's -- um --

insufficient -- what's-it-called?

The term eludes me ...
-- Owen Mathews

Windows NT crashed.

I am the Blue Screen of Death.

No one hears your screams.
-- Peter Rothman

Seeing my great fault

Through darkening blue windows

I begin again
-- Chris Walsh

The code was willing,

It considered your request,

But the chips were weak.
-- Barry L. Brumitt

Printer not ready.

Could be a fatal error.

Have a pen handy?
-- Pat Davis

A file that big?

It might be very useful.

But now it is gone.
-- David J. Liszewski

Errors have occurred.

We won't tell you where or why.

Lazy programmers.
-- Charlie Gibbs

Server's poor response

Not quick enough for browser.

Timed out, plum blossom.
-- Rik Jespersen

Chaos reigns within.

Reflect, repent, and reboot.

Order shall return.
-- Suzie Wagner

Login incorrect.

Only perfect spellers may

enter this system.
-- Jason Axley

This site has been moved.

We'd tell you where, but then we'd

have to delete you.
-- Charles Matthews

wind catches lily

scatt'ring petals to the wind:

segmentation fault
-- Nick Sweeney

ABORTED effort:

Close all that you have.

You ask way too much.
-- Mike Hagler

First snow, then silence.

This thousand dollar screen dies

so beautifully.
-- Simon Firth

With searching comes loss

and the presence of absence:

"My Novel" not found.
-- Howard Korder

The Tao that is seen

Is not the true Tao, until

You bring fresh toner.
-- Bill Torcaso

The Web site you seek

cannot be located but

endless others exist
-- Joy Rothke

Stay the patient course

Of little worth is your ire

The network is down
-- David Ansel

A crash reduces

your expensive computer

to a simple stone.
-- James Lopez

There is a chasm

of carbon and silicon

the software can't bridge
-- Rahul Sonnad

Yesterday it worked

Today it is not working

Windows is like that
-- Margaret Segall

To have no errors

Would be life without meaning

No struggle, no joy
-- Brian M. Porter

You step in the stream,

but the water has moved on.

This page is not here.
-- Cass Whittington

No keyboard present

Hit F1 to continue

Zen engineering?
-- Jim Griffith

Hal, open the file

Hal, open the damn file, Hal

open the, please Hal
-- Jennifer Jo Lane

Out of memory.

We wish to hold the whole sky,

But we never will.
-- Francis Heaney

Having been erased,

The document you're seeking

Must now be retyped.
-- Judy Birmingham

The ten thousand things

How long do any persist?

Netscape, too, has gone.
-- Jason Willoughby

Rather than a beep

Or a rude error message,

These words: "File not found."
-- Len Dvorkin

Serious error.

All shortcuts have disappeared.

Screen. Mind. Both are blank.
-- Ian Hughes

QUOTE: "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." ~ Robert Frost

Workin' (Nick Annis)

From yesterday's Writer's Almanac:

Today is Labor Day, first celebrated on Tuesday, September 5, 1882. The holiday was the idea of the Central Labor Union in New York City, which organized a parade and a picnic featuring speeches by union leaders. It was intended to celebrate labor unions, call for the eight-hour workday, and to recognize the achievements of the American worker.

Many of the labor laws those early activists wanted were passed in the 1930s, including the eight-hour workday and the 40-hour workweek. Most sociologists predicted that in the coming decades Americans would work steadily fewer and fewer hours. But in fact, the opposite has happened. Today, more than 25 million Americans work more than 49 hours each week. And 11 million spend 60 hours or more at work each week. Americans also take fewer vacation days than employees in any other industrialized nation, making Americans the hardest-working (or most overworked) industrialized nation on the planet.

Most writers have worked day jobs at some point in their careers to support their writing, and many have been inspired by those day jobs. Salman Rushdie was an advertising man, and so was Allen Ginsberg. Wallace Stevens worked for an insurance company. Charles Bukowski worked, among other things, as a janitor, a truck driver, and a bouncer for a brothel. Walt Whitman worked for a while as a teacher in series of windowless, poorly heated, one-room schoolhouses for almost no money. While teaching at one school, he wrote to a friend, "How tired and sick I am of this wretched, wretched hole! — ... O, damnation, damnation! Thy other name is school-teaching."

I had the most wonderfully unproductive Monday, basically segueing from my nightgown to my bathing suit and back again - I finished the new Anne Lamott book... and a mix that has been in my head for years (believe it or not, songs showcasing the fiddle, my favorite instrument) finally made it onto a CD, which I then test-drove while I floated in the pool. The 76-minute compilation came to an end just as the dark clouds rolled in - the time was enough to add a layer of pigment to my skin and a newly-discovered calm to my demeanor. With E traveling, we're short-handed again at work this week, so my stress symptoms will soon reappear - however, tomorrow's Hump Day already!

SONG: Workin' by Nick Annis

BOOK: Working: People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do by Studs Terkel

POEM: The Great Work by Hafiz

Love

Is the great work

Though every heart is first an

Apprentice

That slaves beneath the city of Light.

This wondrous trade,

This magnificent throne your soul

Is destined for-

You should not have to think

Much about it,

Is it not clear

An apprentice needs a teacher

Who himself

Has charmed the universe

To reveal its wonders inside his cup.

Happiness is the great work,

Though every heart must first become

A student

To one

Who really knows

About Love.

QUOTE: "Yield who will to their separation, my object in living is to unite my avocation and my vocation.... Only where love and need are one... is the deed ever really done for Heaven and the future's sakes." ~ Robert Frost

Your Life Story (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

My husband is fond of saying, "don't worry about how something got to be a problem... just fix it" - for various reasons, a dear friend and I had allowed ourselves to drift out of touch for the last two years... and, after repeated attempts to get together, we finally did this evening... for a few hours, over a couple glasses of wine each and some delicious appetizers. It was delightful to begin the catching-up process and to prove that friendship does transcend barriers of time when hearts are in the right place - we picked up right where we left off and, although there is still much more to share, we made a good start. What I especially loved is that, while we did a bit of reminiscing (so many good memories), we also talked about the present and future - it felt comfortable... and loving... and right... and we've vowed to do it again (thanks, MW... <3>

SONG: Your Life Story by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells

POEM: A Time to Talk by Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, 'What is it?'
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

QUOTE: "Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember but the story." ~ Tim O'Brien