It certainly feels cold today. We had sun for a short while. I was hopeful that the snow would melt enough to drive, but no. And my back is not up to shoveling, I don’t think. I have moving to do this week, and I needn’t cause myself further stress by injuring myself further.
The back is better today, although I already pushed my limit. I am now back in rest mode, with Cooder here on the bed with me. I’ve been watching Richard Attenborough’s film biography of Charlie Chaplin starring Robert Downey, Jr. It expires on Netflix tomorrow, so I thought I would give it a go, given my affection for RD. As good as he is, the film is so ham-handed and obviously written, I do not recommend it, even though Downey is superb. Chaplin has been of interest to me since I was a child (and we know that was a while ago). My mother read his autobiography when it came out and I started reading it then, too. It is a terrific book, highly recommended.
The house grows quiet again. ECA headed back to Stonybrook to complete her last few weeks of college. BEA and KM are back on the train to Brooklyn. It is just the four of us again. J will be a least a bit relieved that he can play guitar more comfortably in the family room. M can get out of the kitchen for a bit and maybe even get some reading time.
I would likely be depressed if i allowed myself the life overview, but I am not following those mental paths. I'm just resting my back and resisting the urge to eat more cheesecake. The consumption engine is wound up and revving loudly. Perhaps this is another reason people are so eager to shop after Thanksgiving; the pump is primed for more more more, be it food or goods.
I think I need some tea.
A re-cleaned kitchen and cup of tea later ... I was just thinking about Mark Strand's death ... and even more about his poetry. Alas, for the moment all of my poetry books are packed up in storage, so I cannot root around there for something special. I am thrown back on my internet resources ... which include a site where an electronic voice will do a very poor reading for you. In the New York Times obit, they included this poem which I did not know, but it is a good one, and seems somehow particularly good for me as I make another step in another direction.
KEEPING THINGS WHOLE
In a field
I am the absence
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.
When I walk
I part the air
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.
We all have reasons
to keep things whole.
Keeping myself whole is rather my task, no? If we could all be whole, keep ourselves whole, and lend a hand to others' wholeness, well, we'd be in a much better situation in this world. Like maybe the polar ice cap would be whole, too. And thanks to all of you for reading this and for the other ways you help keep me whole.
|This really helps keep me whole.|