ULYSSES AT COSTCO

#54 of #100daychallenge

Now that would be a fine series, Ulysses at Costco. It sure as hell feels like a horrible Odyssey to be there sometimes. 

I had to go to Costco, on a Sunday, as that was the soonest time I could get a reasonable (read:early) appointment to get my new tires looked at. Knowing that the tire center feels slow, I took my Ulysses package to use my time wisely. That doesn't mean I entirely did. The food court does not conjure up the interest of early 20th century Dublin. Very much to distract, plus I hate waiting. My impatience has increased with my age.

Nonetheless, I did get a chapter studied, or most of it at least.

I did rest a bunch this weekend. The weather was just this side of sultry, so I didn't feel much like moving around in the afternoon. The usual chores of Sunday wall yoga, Mom attendance, cat attendance, gardening watering, and afternoon napping were all met. However, the nap rather wiped me out for anything else. I have been awake for several hours now and still feel groggy. I continue to yawn. Perhaps a long draught of water will help.

Given my grogginess, I can think of no suitable subject nor anecdote to parry on with, so I will to the kitchen and then the bath, in both instances errands of cleaning. I suppose after, another bout with Hypnos/Somnos/Nidra is in order.

THE SUNFLOWERS

Come with me

   into the field of sunflowers.

      Their faces are burnished disks,

          their dry spines

creak like ship masts,

     their green leaves,

         so heavy and many,

             fill all the day with the sticky

sugars of the sun,

      Come with me

          to visit the sunflowers,

              they are shy

but want to be friends;

    they have wonderful stories

        of when they were young—

           the important weather,

the wandering crows.

     Don’t be afraid

        to ask them questions!

           Their bright faces

which follow the sun,

     will listen, and all

         those rows of seeds—

             each one a new life!—

hope for a deeper acquaintance;

     each of them, though it stands.

         in a crowd of many,

            like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work

      of turning their lives

         into a celebration

             is not easy. Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,

      the simple garments of leaves,

          the coarse roots in the earth

             so uprightly burning

— Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems, Beacon Press, Boston, 1992