A Poem For A Thursday

The New Song
W.S. Merwin

For some time I thought there was time
and that there would always be time
for what I had a mind to do
and what I could imagine
going back to and finding it
as I had found it the first time
but by this time I do not know
what I thought when I thought back then

there is no time yet it grows less
there is the sound of rain at night
arriving unknown in the leaves
once without before or after
then I hear the thrush waking
at daybreak singing the new song

The first thing that struck me, other than how much I loved this poem even from the first read, was how the structure and repetition in the first stanza does so much to reinforce the words. "Time" is repeated just like time is constant. The line breaks don't signify any endings of phrases...they all flow together just like the seamlessness of time. It doesn't stop, it doesn't start, and you can't go back. But despite the eternality of time, you also can't get more for yourself. Your time ends. 

Then suddenly in the second stanza we are in a vivid moment. The rain, the thrush, the new song. It seems a little hopeful to me as compared to the opening. Yes, we can't go back and time isn't endless for each of us but there are these things, these experiences that are moments to really know. I suppose it all comes back to doing the best we can to recognize those moments and live in them instead of outside of them, peering back wondering what we missed.

Holiday Recap

Whew, what a fun few days. We headed west on Thursday afternoon arriving at my parents around 10pm. After that, it was a whirlwind with a work from home day on Friday, last minute shopping and food prep, games, fires, presents, and oodles of cousins and aunts and uncles. All of it was wonderful!

The weather was excellent which drew some of us outside for walks in the melting snow as well as frisbee. We discovered that Merwin enjoys "playing frisbee," which means he sprints around like a maniac chasing the frisbee. He doesn't catch it, but if he happens to grab it off the ground before the receiver, he'll proudly trot off with it like he won first prize. I'm pretty sure he wishes he lived at my parents so he could sniff and prowl and dash around that yard all the time. Lucky (and tuckered) dog by the time we packed up yesterday and made the long drive back to NH. Thanks for a very Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

One of us didn't get the memo.
Merry Christmas!!!!

1 Merwin 'Til Christmas

My life is complete. And he hates me. Merry Christmas Eve!

2 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Oldie but a goodie. It's as Merwiny as Merwin gets. And another photo credit to Pete.

3 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Getting pumped for Christmas.

4 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Headlock for the plastic burger.

5 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Warmer times.

6 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Yellow mug. Dog mug. (Photo from Pete)

7 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Loves to be loved.

8 Merwins 'Til Christmas

If you zoom out, there are likely 4-5 more in this room alone.

9 Merwins 'Til Christmas

When I woke up today it was 0 degrees with a -18 windchill. This seems appropriate.

10 Merwins 'Til Christmas

As close to cuddly as these two get.

11 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Furry jumble.

12 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Merwin on the mountain (photo and adventure courtesy of Pete and Sille).

13 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Pappasan Chair Series - Sit Here. Give Side Eye.

14 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Pappasan Chair Series - Not Where You Are Supposed To Sit.

15 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Power jowls.

16 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Throwback to 2015 when we featured awkward sleeping spots.

17 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Werk.

18 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Meditating on the breeze.

19 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Life isn't fair.

20 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Guardian of the flowers and lake.

21 Merwins 'Til Christmas

More ear wings. Plus, is that an actual smile from the grouchy grinch dog?

22 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Merwin wings.

23 Merwins 'Til Christmas

What is there to even say?

Here We Go Again -- 24 Merwins 'Til Christmas

It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating the exciting 5th anniversary of the Merwin Christmas Countdown. Alas here we are again at the beginning of December and the cusp of the season of perpetual hope. In case you were in need of excuses to tune in over the next 24 days, here are three:

A) This dog is cute, super cute, and also ridiculous, super ridiculous. I will prove both points with irrefutable photographic evidence.
2) Christmas Countdowns are the perfect antidote to holiday traffic, cold rain that you wish was snow, Nutcracker stress, and those jeans that somehow seem to be shrinking little by little every day.
D) This blog is indeed approved by the American Dental Association.

So without further ado, enjoy the deadpan stare of Merwin's silent judgment, surely calculating how very weird his owner is. Happy holidays ya filthy animals.

"Owner, your blog. Woof."

A Poem For Restoration

Last night we hosted a Nutcracker preview event at work, inviting donors, their families, and press into our space for photo opportunities with child cast members, an appearance of Mother Ginger, and a performance by the Company. At the beginning of the day it was the very last thing I could fathom doing, but setting up and decorating were welcome distractions. When the Company took the stage for the snow scene, it was just beautiful, even hopeful. It reminded me of the role the arts can play in times like these. How they can restore and rejuvenate, how they can paint a picture or create a scene or play a sound that allows us to experience joy or beauty or inspiration amidst everything else. It's not necessarily about forgetting what's happening in your crazy world but being given a vehicle that allows you to set it aside, replacing it with something more. Poetry is like that for me too. It may not be as visually compelling as ballet but I find it helpful. We're certainly not going to effect dramatic political change through poetry (maybe I shouldn't be so dismissive of that possibility...) but maybe just maybe a poem a day can keep the Trump nightmares at bay.

This Shining Moment in the Now
David Budbill

When I work outdoors all day, every day, as I do now, in the fall,
getting ready for winter, tearing up the garden, digging potatoes,

gathering the squash, cutting firewood, making kindling, repairing

bridges over the brook, clearing trails in the woods, doing the last of

the fall mowing, pruning apple trees, taking down the screens, 

putting up the storm windows, banking the house--all these things,

as preparation for the coming cold...

when I am every day all day all body and no mind, when I am 

physically, wholly and completely, in this world with the birds, 

the deer, the sky, the wind, the trees...

when day after day I think of nothing but what the next chore is,

when I go from clearing woods roads, to sharpening a chain saw,

to changing the oil in a mower, to stacking wood, when I am

all body and no mind...

when I am only here and now and nowhere else--then, and only

then, do I see the crippling power of mind, the curse of thought,

and I pause and wonder why I so seldom find

this shining moment in the now.

About Last Night...

Experiencing major grief and disbelief today. Fear, hopelessness, anxiety, depression - a nasty cornucopia of emotion. Like lots of people, I'm struggling to understand how this has happened. I was shocked. I've been worried Trump would win since he dominated the primaries, but yesterday during the day I was buoyed and hopeful. And the reason why defines what this election was about.

Yesterday my social media feeds (yes I'm using Facebook to make this point) were brimming with Hillary supporters decked in their pantsuits casting their ballots. Polls and statistics and extremely intelligent people gave her a 72% chance of winning the presidency. My office was enthusiastically imagining President Clinton creating history and my own self was reflecting on the gravity of being able to vote for a female candidate.

Turns out that is a bubble. My America is not the majority's America. I am utterly ignorant of who lives in this country. This election has taught us that hatred runs deep in the vocal majority of Americans. Hatred of those with any difference, hatred that was given a voice, a platform, justification, and reinforcement by Donald Trump. 

I am scared. I am slightly scared for myself. After all this new President has audaciously bragged about sexually assaulting women and nonetheless received millions of votes, presumably from people who deem that behavior acceptable, heck, maybe even encouraged given how rampant sexism and violent tones permeating this campaign. So that could happen, but all in all, I shouldn't be too fearful of my future. I'm not an ethnic minority, Jewish, disabled, or an immigrant. My upper-middle class white husband and I will be fine.

But there are millions of people who won't be. No one has a clue what this crazed demagogue is going to do once he takes office. He has made it clear that he has no respect for a large portion of this country's residents. I fear for them. I fear for what that makes us, what that makes this country. I fear the idea that hatred has prevailed. And that the hatred is a result of our education system that has fooled these millions of people into thinking they can only care for themselves by forcing others down.

I have to mention how much I believe misogyny and sexism played a role in this result. Clinton didn't even win the same percentage of women voters as Obama. What does that say about the depth of our sexism? I don't like to compare racism and sexism as they're both terrible, but I believe this proves that as far as "isms" go, sexism prevails. It may be more subconscious and not be as noticeable until moments like these, but society is not ready for women to be more than subservient beings. Power in a female is perceived as undesirable and threatening. After all, the most qualified female candidate ever was defeated by the least qualified male ever. Try to tell me that isn't misogyny. Just try.

Election Day

I've been wanting to take on this topic for months now. Fear has held me back a bit - fear of what people will think, fear of not being able to express myself well, fear of the seemingly insurmountable task of putting any of this to paper. Whatever it is, I haven't done it. This is my last chance. Election Day 2016.

I have been deeply invested in reading about this year's presidential election. It has both fascinated me and terrified me. I'm sure many people feel the same way as it seems to have taken over the newsfeed, social media, and everyone's waking (and sleeping) thoughts.

It should. It is hugely important. More than that. I could rant about Donald Trump but so many others have done this better than I ever could. While I find him repulsive and disgusting and an insult to this entire democratic process, it isn't entirely Donald that is the source of my depression. It is more that a large portion of America shares his sentiments and has actively provided a platform for his racist, sexist, and disrespectful rhetoric. That so much hatred of difference has fueled a movement that has carried this terrible man into the place he is today - that of potential president. A role model for children. A negotiator with powerful countries. A policymaker. A figure who should be respected for his leadership, intelligence, and ability to bring all types of people together in the interest of the common good of this country. Instead, he has, over the last year (and all his life), disrespected every person who is not a straight, able-bodied, white male.

And all of this without even mentioning his opponent. Isn't the above enough to fully comprehend that this is in no way a "lesser of two evils" situation? He is evil, plain and simple. She has spent 30 years as an advocate for children, families and the underprivileged. She is experienced, skilled, smart, passionate, diligent. He brags about assaulting and groping women. Despite the hundreds of other terrible things he has done, that in itself, is enough to put an end to any fantasies of this person being qualified and suited to this role.

I know we like to claim that this country has progressed significantly in recent years. And I know we have. I know that hatred and racism were reflected in our laws and policies and not just in our societal behaviors, but Hillary running for President has made me realize that America is enormously sexist. We simply can't deal with the idea of a woman holding the highest of offices, being in power. We critique her clothes, her appearance, her voice, her weight, everything and anything we can get our hands on. These would be irrelevancies for a man stepping up to the podium.

All this to say I have a high level of anxiety as voting winds down and results pour in. I care about this a lot. I care about what this means for this country. I care about what this means for me. This morning as I stood in my little booth marking my ballot I was surprised by how very much it meant to me to cast my vote for a woman. Even though I've been thinking about the role of sexism in this election since well before the primaries, I hadn't recognized the significance of it until that moment. I hadn't stopped to think about the fact that I get to vote. And as a woman, I got to vote for a woman. To be honest, the ballot got a little blurry in front of me.

I don't know what will happen tonight. I don't know what will happen over the next few years. You have to imagine the hatred Trump brought to the forefront won't simply vanish with his candidacy. Hopefully our next President will do what she has done her whole life - fight as hard as possible on behalf of ALL of the people in this country.

Notes From The Travel Journal--Edinburgh

We packed in a few more stops along the driving route before catching the train back to where it all began in Edinburgh. At the top of the fascinating list were the Whaligoe Steps, a man-made set of 365 stone stairs leading to a naturally formed harbor between two sea cliffs. The little harbor once served as a fishing stop and the steps were frequented by fisherwomen toting baskets of herring to be sold in nearby Wick. A cool climb and really pretty views. 

We carried on to the Hill O'Many Stanes then onward to Dunrobin Castle for an amazing falconry demonstration and a great tour of the castle. This was a little taste of Downton Abbey (don't be stupid and not watch this show!!!) and I was particularly into envisioning castle life. Oh yes, we also saw the rooms where Mary Queen of Scots lived before her dramatic beheading. History!

Once we made it to Edinburgh we met up with my cousin Kristin and her family who hiked with us up Arthur's Seat, treated us to delicious tea and scones, and introduced us to Scoland's oldest pub. We experienced the local art and history museums and wandered around town on our own during the rest of our stay. Spectacular city, spectacular country, spectacular trip worth every bit of the bronchitis we experienced upon our arrival home. Bon voyage!

Notes From The Travel Journal--North Coast 500 Part Three

We've had a lot of deadlines at work so my recent writing has taken the form of grants instead of blog updates. Alas. Let's wrap up this road trip, shall we? As per usual with my travel blogs, we're already a month after our return so recapping is a memory challenge and I fear I lost my 0 followers. Let's see how it goes.

Our driving days after leaving Torridon were spectacular and generally filled with lovely hikes, surprisingly Carribbean-esque beaches, delicious food and friendly hosts. Highlights included a death defying (slight exaggeration) climb up Knockan Crag where we were serenaded by two passing fighter jets. I dove for useless cover next to a boulder and Simon attempted to snap a picture of the pilots. We were both rattled by the close encounter but apparently they often use the valleys and mountains to practice their flying. But the views once we made it to the top were worth every second of edge and jet-induced fright.

Onward to some beachside treks, cave explorations, countless beautiful views and a celebratory bottle of champagne in honor of our 8th wedding anniversary, all before heading to our final NC500 stop, John O'Groats, the northeastern most tip of Great Britain.

I know I always rave about our travels, but I really can't recommend this journey highly enough. The scenery is out of this world and the Scottish people in the Highlands were all so welcoming, accommodating, and seemingly genuinely interested in supporting tourism. They were also fascinated by our current election; as two of few Americans we found along the route, it was the first topic of conversation with the Scots. Regardless, I give a ginormous stamp of approval to the North Coast 500. In order to wrap this up before really wrapping it up with a glimpse of Edinburgh, here are some more of the hundreds of photos we snapped along the way.