we grow tired of having nothing to tend. we dream of flower beds and vegetable gardens. we wait for the first signals that it’s ok to care as deeply as we do.
attention, grown-ups: we need to play more. we need to be silly. we need to goof-off. we need to stop censoring ourselves so much.
something interesting happened at the halfway point as we made the turn to climb back up out of a deep gorge. i panicked. i realized i had no choice but to conquer the steep hill. one way or another, i had to get up and over it. i remembered something i told jill recently, though she teased that i must be high …
so far, november hasn’t been a month full of poems (though i have been making notes), but it has been a month of clarity and action. i’ll take it.
today was one of those days that you can’t quite believe – a whirlwind, in a good way. it began with an early morning hockey game out in the burbs, but the remainder was downtown. and a whirlwind downtown? just another day, of course: empire state plaza, washington park, occupy albany, two separate strange encounters (one with the albany police and another with a fast food joint) and a birthday for a dead guy (which is an interesting title for a poem: i got dibs!).
lately when people ask me what i like about running, i’ve been leading with this: it helps me practice positive self talk. in no other aspect of my life, am i able to cheer myself on as reliably as when it’s me vs. the road. today, i ran a half marathon with one of my besties, and we killed it — despite pouring rain!
as you know, i’ve been contemplating the light and romance and poetry mojo. they are three of my obsessions. how they ebb and flow. most recently, how they dwindle. i would be hard-pressed to tell you which absence is most disheartening. but i can say that i’ve lived long enough to know that neither light nor poetry really disappear. romance, however? i have little evidence that it persists.