Life 101

I took Merwin on a walk this morning and we found ourselves strolling around the Tufts campus.  It is definitely freshmen move-in day; lots of cars loaded to the gills with stuff, nervous parents hovering uncertainly, and cops directing traffic around the dorms.  Made me think "It wasn't so long ago that my parents and I pulled up to South Dorm at Hamilton for my freshman year."  But then I realized it actually was a long time ago--13 years!  So my brain went into overdrive trying to comprehend what happened in those 13 years.  Where did they go?  Is that just how it is?  Days, weeks, months and years disappear without you even noticing that they're gone, used up, never to get them back? I suppose it's a pretty basic concept, but it might be worth a pause. 

And in other news, our office is having a problem with mice.  Therefore, the below poem provides a nice double whammy.  Enjoy.

Untitled
Ezra Pound

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
      Not shaking the grass.

Don't Go

Separation anxiety is a relatively common dog issue.  Merwin went through a tough bout of it over the summer when we were both working 9-5 jobs.  He wasn't used to being left alone for such a long period of time.  Despite some amazing friends who helped with afternoon dog walks, we had some scary incidents-- overturned furniture, scratches and holes in walls where he tried to climb out windows, curtains ripped from their rods, bloody paws from attempting to claw his way from his crate, etc.  After a few weeks, he seemed to finally settle into a routine, and we slowly learned that Merwin had a preferred daytime hideout.

I don't doubt his pain; surely separation is a challenge, even for those of us with the capacity to realize that, in many cases, it may not last forever.

This poem is not written by Merwin, but strangely enough, I became aware of Pablo Neruda's work after finding that Merwin did the translation for the collection 100 Love Poems and a Song of Despair. 

Don't Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day
Pablo Neruda

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because--
because--I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Kelly the 'Cane

Hurricane Irene seems destined to do a dance with New England and her presence forces me to remember a childhood nickname that may not have died with my youth.  My dad began referring to me as "Hurricane Kelly" when I was about 2 or 3.  Apparently, I left a "path of destruction" in my wake, wreaking havoc around the house but at least making it easy for my parents to see where I'd been. Unfortunately (or fortunately) Kelly doesn't appear on the official list of past or future hurricane names so we're in the clear there.  For now, let's cross our fingers that Irene does less damage than I did in the past 31 years.

      
      Falling
      W.S. Merwin

      Long before daybreak
      none of the birds yet awake
      rain comes down with the sound
      of a huge wind rushing
      through the valley trees
      it comes down around us
      all at the same time
      and beyond it there is nothing
      it falls without hearing itself
      without knowing
      there is anyone here
      without seeing where it is
      or where it is going
      like a moment of great
      happiness of our own
      that we cannot remember
      coasting with the lights off

Living in the Moment

Three years ago, I was a bridesmaid in a close friend's wedding and was charged with the task of checking in with her throughout the day to make sure she was "living in the moment."  We had both discussed how the wedding day is such a big deal yet after the fact, so many brides report that they can't recall many of the incredible moments.  For Ashley's wedding, the strategy worked and I find myself trying to deploy the same methods day-to-day.  I'm always worrying about an interaction from the past or fretting about something approaching in the coming weeks, so I'm rarely present in the "now."  In this way, I envy Merwin (the dog) who doesn't have the capacity to think backwards or forwards but does what we say, goes where we take him, and seems content existing.  The other Merwin seems to have something to say about it as well.

One of the Butterflies

W.S. Merwin

Napping in the moment

The trouble with pleasure is the timing
it can overtake me without warning
and be gone before I know it is here
it can stand facing me unrecognized
while I am remembering somewhere else
in another age or someone not seen
for years and never to be seen again
in this world and it seems that I cherish
only now a joy I was not aware of
when it was here although it remains
out of reach and will not be caught or named
or called back and if I could make it stay
as I want to it would turn to pain.

More from the Badger/Dairy/Cheese State

Can't resist sharing two more little snapshots from our week in Wisconsin.  Although my aunt's springer spaniel is significantly larger than Merwin, it was slightly uncanny how much they resemble each other, even down to how they move and how they sleep!

Memories of Paradise

Vacations sure are amazing and returning from them sure is awful.  I got back from a really wonderful time in Wisconsin late last night while Simon, Merwin and my mom are currently en route home.

After spending time there almost every summer since I was born, I really do believe that Deep Wood Lake is paradise.  Memories range from painting rocks (then subsequently trying to sell them to relatives), oodles of cousins, second cousins, and cousins once removed (most of us are completely unsure of exactly how we are related), and even a canoe ride 7 years ago that showed me how happy I could be.

Our week was full of morning walks around the lake, daily swims, sunset cocktails, delicious dinners, and board game after board game.  And Merwin got to run around the lake, chase tennis balls, and romp around the property with my aunt's springer spaniel, Jack.  He spent the entire week covered in burrs and dirt, but seemed to love every minute of it.

We also learned he really doesn't like to swim.  After days of trying to coax him into the water with treats or his tennis ball, we finally loaded him into a canoe with my brother, curious how he would react to at least being on the water. 

He made a quick exit.  Apparently, he doesn't like boating (or maybe my brother) but at least we learned he knows how to swim.

But for now it's back to the routine and we'll do our best to recall brilliant oranges and reds glimmering on the lake at sunset, waking to the sounds of loons calling, and the bliss of being surrounded by nature at its best.

Road Trip!

Wow, he needs more stuff than we do.

Simon and Merwin are off to Upstate, NY to stay with my parents for the night in preparation for their mini cross country road trip beginning tomorrow morning.  "Mini" isn't really accurate.  Simon, my mom, and Merwin are hopping in my mother's Honda Fit and driving to Northern Wisconsin, which will take about 20 hours.  I, on the other hand, am hopping into a cab and taking a plane to Northern Wisconsin which will take about 4 hours.  It's a long story.  


Separation
W.S. Merwin

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is stitched with its color

Cheated

I will admit it for all the world to see, or for all of my zero blog readers to see.  I cheated on Merwin yesterday--I posted a Langston Hughes poem.  The horror!  To redeem myself, here is Beggars and Kings, one of my favorites from Merwin's collection, Writings to an Unfinished Accompaniment.  I love it.

Beggars and Kings
W.S. Merwin

In the evening
all the hours that weren't used
are emptied out
and the beggars are waiting to gather them up
to open them
to find the sun in each one
and teach it its beggar's name
and sing to it It is well
through the night

but each of us
has his own kingdom of pains
and has not yet found them all
and is sailing in search of them day and night
infallible undisputed unresting
filled with a dumb use
and its time
like a finger in a world without hands

Limpy, Gimpy and A Dog

Ew

The three of us are a picture to behold.  Over the weekend, Simon may have broken his toe.  Some background is required.  I have known Simon for almost 8 years, 7 of which were spent in New York City.  Over those 7 years, he never required stitches or treatment for a broken bone.  Prior to those 7 years, he never experienced a broken bone or needed stitches (not counting his emergency appendectomy in Costa Rica).  Within the first 8 months of living in Boston we were required to make two ER visits. On the first trip, he broke his pinky finger (playing kickball...don't ask).  On the second trip, he slashed his thumb (also the left hand) washing dishes (aww) and now, it seems as though he fractured his toe.  Toes are a bit different than fingers and the doctor advised letting it heal without an ER intervention, so we avoided another journey to the hospital.

I've taken up "running" and what that translates into is that a week ago, I jogged four times.  Probably about 5-10 minutes.  I trained as a ballet dancer so running, endurance activities, and other types of fitness are foreign and generally undesirable.  However I really started to enjoy it.  This week, my knee is really killing me, so I'm limping around, Simon is limping around, and even Merwin has had it rough, receiving three vaccinations at the vet last night.  So we're taking things slow and if all goes according to plan, will heal up quickly.  As my dad always says "it could be worse."  Much worse. 

Troubled Woman
Langston Hughes

She stands
In the quiet darkness,
This troubled woman
Bowed by
Weariness and pain
Like an
Autumn flower
In the frozen rain,
Like a
Wind-blown autumn flower
That never lifts its head
Again.

It's Raining Cats and Dogs

It has been awhile since we've had a summer day of rain, and I was hoping for such a day this weekend so my Sunday laziness could be nicely justified.  Drizzle started this morning, slowly turned more steady then continued nearly all day, stopping just before dusk settled in.  Waking to the sound of rain tops my list of ways to start the day, especially when an alarm has nothing to do with it.

Rain Travel
W.S. Merwin

I wake in the dark and remember
it is the morning when I must start
by myself on the journey
I lie listening to the black hour
before dawn and you are
still asleep beside me while
around us the trees full of night lean
hushed in their dream that bears
us up asleep and awake then I hear
drops falling one by one into
the sightless leaves and I
do not know when they began but
all at once there is no sound but rain
and the stream below us roaring
away into the rushing darkness