7/26/08

Sunday Scribblings: Solace

Sherman Creek near Canyon Creek Campground, northeast Washington

Where do I go to find comfort? Where do I find solace? I often find comfort walking along a creek like the one pictured above. Lately I have found solace in reading poetry. After departing from the Writing Retreat in June I have immersed myself in exploring poetry. I have mostly been reading contemporary American poets. Many of the poets I have gravitated to focus on common everyday things in life. I am moved when a poem captures a moment with clarity that is unforgettable. I have explored common themes and topics, use of word choice, the emotional impact the poet's words, and the sound of the language.

I find solace in poetry when I find a specific one that helps me at a time when I need comfort. Judith Viorst's words helped me this week when I read The Pleasures of an Ordinary Life which you can find here. It reassured me that I am on the right track for finding pleasure in my life.

I just read a small volume entitled Poems for Life: Famous People Select Their Favorite Poem and Say Why it Inspires Them. I learned of the book by doing a search of Anna Quindlen online recently. She wrote the introduction. It was compiled by a class of fifth graders in New York City classroom. Quindlen said, "Of all the words that have stuck to the ribs of my soul, poetry has been the most filling." I agree with the statement.
E.L. Doctorow chose a poem called A Blessing for this collection. He knew James Wright when they were students at Kenyon College. This is the poem he chose composed by Wright:

A Blessing
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her main falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

Also in this little volume Geraldine Ferraro and Diane Sawyer chose If by Rudyard Kipling. Yo-Yo Ma's favorite was Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats because " beauty has its own truth." I found solace in reading why each of these New Yorkers chose their favorite poem. I would find it difficult to chose a favorite.
I am drawn to a variety of poets. Lately I have read anthologies so I can get a mix of poets like Billy Collins, Mary Oliver, Jane Kenyon, Ted Kooser, and William Stafford. I have also found poems I like by Carol Muske, Liz Rosenberg, Marge Piercy, and Wislawa Szymborska.
You can link to many poems I have posted on my label poetry to the right.

In closing one poem that always gives me comfort is Billy Collins' Forgetfulness. Who has not drawn a blank on a person's name you have known for years, or the red flower growing in the window box? This animated video reading of the poem uses visuals effectively to reinforce the theme. Take time to listen to his words and watch the video . Again, take solace in the fact that an everyday thing such as forgetting can happen to all of us.

To find other Sunday Scribblings on Solace go here.



Photo Hunt: Hanging

On a camping trip yesterday we came across ripe serviceberries hanging on branches just waiting to be picked. Tasting the juicy berries took my husband back to childhood and memories of picking them this time of year. Here is a cluster of berries close up.

To find other photos with the theme of hanging go here.

7/25/08

Photography 101: Dry Summer Beauty

Yesterday we headed up the Bangs Mountain scenic drive for another photo session. It is off Highway 20 at the Canyon Creek Campground. Easter 2007 I did another post of this drive here. Yesterday it looked quite different as the summer has dried up water sources and much of the foliage. The rock formations through the Donaldson Draw are amazing with the different colors, textures, and shapes. When arrived at the top of the mountain the fields were very dry. I think you can find beauty in most anything in a field... even a dandelion gone to seed. The dogs loved running through the tall, dry grass. You have to look closely to see both dogs as they follow JEJ back to the car.

7/24/08

Photography 101: Lost

I have spent the last few days teaching myself more about my camera. We have also taken time to study how JEJ's camera is different than mine. As I sat in one place at our camp spot I took pictures of my surroundings in different ways. This is what happened.


The collection of pictures coincided well with a poem I discovered last night. There are times when surrounded by trees you do feel lost.

Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner

JEJ and Shelby out to gather firewood.

7/23/08

Everything

another new favorite I discovered during my poetry reading marathon this week...

Everything

I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don't go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves. I want to
keep close and use often words like
heavy, heart, joy, soon, and to cherish
the question mark and her bold sister


the dash. I want to write with quiet hands. I
want to write while crossing the fields that are
fresh with daises and everlasting and the
ordinary grass. I want to make poems while thinking of
the bread of heaven and the
cup of astonishment; let them be


songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems
that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable. I want them to honor
both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
the gladness that says, without any words, everything.


~ Mary Oliver ~

(New and Selected Poems Volume Two)



7/22/08

The Pleasures of Ordinary Life







The Pleasures of Ordinary Life

I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Young fantasies of magic and of mystery
Are over. But they really can't compete
With all we've built together: A long history.
Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,
Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.

Judith Viorst

I have been reading lots of poetry lately. Today I read this collection by Judith Viorst. The poem I posted can be found in this book. I think it is reassuring to get to a time in your life when the pleasure does come from ordinary life. There are no trumpets, trails of glory, and I am not the star of a play or movie. I do relish the pleasure in my first tomato, green beans beginning their climb up the pole, blooms on a geranium plant, reading poetry books by candlelight, and picking a bouquet. All of it is sweet, sweet pleasure.