I have houseguests, French houseguests and everything is being done in two languages. The guest is a woman I adore who was our au par when my, now big children, were little kids. She has come to visit with her 18 year old nephew and we are seeing everything through his very excited eyes: Times Square, Washington Square Park, the lines for the Statue of Liberty, the NBA finals, all of it. And so it is busier than usual in my loft.
This means for me it is even more important to carve out ways to be alone, or to do things for myself, otherwise it is all about cooking, laundry, buying tickets on line, setting up the internet for French Yahoo and talking and laughing. Not bad things.
But what happens to me is that I allow the needs of others to constantly take precedence over my own needs, wants, and desires. So I went to walk early, and since I began to do Pilates again I saw that I walked much more easily. No, I didn’t love it. No I still often think, oh I could be doing so many more interesting or useful things. But I moved up and down the Hudson River clinging to my poem, inside my head. I had forgotten to bring the paper with me. So I tried to see the order of things, because this poem is tough for sequencing.
It is walk on your kness/ for a hundred miles/through the desert/ REPENTING I have all the elements but to me they could be interchanged. But I am not the writer of this poem, Mary Oliver is.
Then the poet begins to unfurl her vision of the world goe on. What happens? What does she see when painting a simple picture of the elements in a personal yet grand universe.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
Are moving across the landscapes,
Over the prairies and the deep trees,
The mountains and the rivers.
I am attempting to see myself flying over the country and observing the landscape and then the Nebraska prairie, moving further into the west and the trees, then the mountains and finally close enough to the coast to glimpse a river. If I don’t see it I can’t learn it.
Later in the day, while waiting for Pilates to begin, I spied a blurb on how to increase memory. The key, the pundit said, was to relax. A tense brain does not learn as well. Oh well that does it for school I guess, but learning while walking or meandering, ought to release some tensions and open the path to poetry.