(Silent) Poetry Reading

WILD GEESE
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
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.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

It's time for the fifth annual Bloggers' (Silent) Poetry Reading, AKA Cyberspace Poetry Slam -- one of my favorite connections in this big little world, and I've participated each year. I borrowed this poem from the delightful Reya, and I don't think she will mind. It seems I'm usually carrying around snippets or poems or bits of wisdom that I find on her blog. Sometimes my pockets overflow! Thank you, sister!

Relaxamatic

This is how I like to spend my day off. Coffee or tea in my favorite mug, a little knitting, and connectivity at my fingertips. I can't help it; I like my iPhone. It was my Christmas gift to myself, even though I got it in November. That's Judy's Hedgerow Mitt there, almost finished, but not quite. Soon, I promise, while it's still cold enough to wear them!

The photo was taken ten days ago -- the last time I had a really quiet day off at home. I've been busy with work, busy with little things like taking the car to be inspected, and just plain busy. I miss the peace and quiet, so I made it a priority today.

Breakfast was homemade corn and cherry muffins and some fruit. I love dried cherries!

As I continue this inner dialogue on recuperation and recovery, time is marching me forward to another anniversary. It's been about a year since I learned I needed to continue chemotherapy beyond the original seven rounds. I was a mess back then. That news was almost harder to take than learning I had cancer in the first place. I did the job, though. I didn't lie down, I stood up and kept going. And here it is, a year later, and that time is history. It's about history now. Not just putting it behind me, but making it a part of my story.

There will be a lot of anniversaries coming up, things marked on my calendar, and forever on my heart. Every time I see Dr. Pearl, which I'll do this week, I'm marking one. It's another three months since I saw him last, and another three months that I've been on my own, so to speak. Another three months of loving my hair and how it feels and what it means. Another three months of recovery.

I have a new favorite app on my iPhone -- the Hipstamatic Camera. The website declares "Digital Never Looked So Analog" and that just about says it all. There are lots of different "lenses" and "film" and even "flashes." Look what it did with a crazy sunset over Southampton! Ah, life should always be this much fun, shouldn't it?

Annabelle, Olive, and Kermit

Annabelle's taking a few minutes before she heads off to the foot of the bed to ask you to do something. She wants you to join Olive and Kermit's blogathon to raise money for Haiti. It's really simple -- just go to the New York Times list of charitable organizations, or do what Annabelle did, and donate to Partners in Health and Doctors Without Borders. It doesn't matter what you decide, as long as you go ahead and make a donation.

Thank you!

Bits of life

I’ve been reading the wonderful columns by Dana Jennings, who writes about his experience with prostate cancer for the New York Times. His words often -- almost always, in fact -- move me. Many times I’ve cried because in writing about himself, he’s written my own truth, and some of my own experience. His past couple of columns have been about returning to life and recovering.

Recuperation from cancer is mostly physical. I recuperated from surgery and radiation, and I’m still recuperating from chemotherapy. Cells divide, hair grows, strength returns. It’s a process, predictable and expected; not without its ups and downs, but nearly inevitable.

But recovering, that’s a different matter. It’s not simple, not predictable. Every single person who has had cancer has a different recovery experience. And it will go on for a long, long time -- you don’t just wake up one day and say, “Well, that’s over and done with; all better now!” You climb, crawl, walk, stumble, until eventually you’re upright, and the road is smoother than it was before.

I’m not on the way to becoming my old self, either. I’m creating a new self from the one who traveled that hard road full of unexpected twists, turns and roadblocks. I’m adding bits of my old life back, little by little. I choose familiar things as I encounter them -- a favorite shirt, a visit to the water, a comfortable position in which to fall asleep -- and add them to Jane, where they become part of me again. I decide to leave other things by the side of the road -- stuff that doesn’t matter, shoes that don’t fit, arguments that can’t be won.

A couple of weeks ago I added a visit with my family. There were hugs and kisses for my little mother, who I hadn’t seen for a long, long time. There were laughter and tears with my sisters, my brother, and their families. My heart filled, and I felt something fall into place. Another bit, reclaimed, making Jane.

~::~

My first knitting project of the new year was this Pretty Thing cowl in Bijou Spun Lace Weight Yak. I added one repeat to the pattern and used US 3 needles. It's more than just a pretty thing -- it's divine. I have Kris to thank for the yarn as well as the exquisite Herend experience (see the photo at the top of the post).