“Alone” – Maya Angelou

Alone

Maya Angelou, 1928 – 2014

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

“The Invitation” – Oriah Mountain Dreamer

 

I have just discovered this poet and…Oh, this poem! I love it because it is naked and authentic!  Particularly, the last stanza.  I don’t even have words…

The Invitation

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesnt interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

“Mirage” – Amy Lowell

Mirage

by Amy Lowell

How is it that, being gone, you fill my days,
And all the long nights are made glad by thee?
No loneliness is this, nor misery,
But great content that these should be the ways
Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays,
Makes bright and present what she would would be.
And who shall say if the reality
Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays
And hindrances may bar the wished-for end;
A thousand misconceptions may prevent
Our souls from coming near enough to blend;
Let me but think we have the same intent,
That each one needs to call the other, “friend!”
It may be vain illusion. I’m content.

Amy Lowell was a student of poetry.  She studied it.  Both her own work and that of others.  The volume of poems that she penned is incredible and her use of sensuous language unmatched, in my opinion.

But what I enjoy most is the connection that I feel when I read her poetry.  You see, I think she knew something of grief and heartbreak.

How could she write with such passion if she didn’t??

Have I said how much I’m enjoying National Poetry Month??

🙂

“In Myself” – Louisa May Alcott

In Myself

by Louisa May Alcott

I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor try to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find
Led by a tender hand,
The happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.

I love this poem because it’s so simple yet so profound.

I think the poet is truly onto something.

Peace and acceptance of others, situations and circumstances in general, begins with acceptance of self.

That is where we learn to sail how to sail our ship.

“To A Stranger” – Walt Whitman

Just who was Walt Whitman??

Teacher, journalist, voracious reader and poet.  An optimist.  A literary enthusiast.

In learning about his life I realize that I have much in common with him.  I’ve always delved into books and stories for escape both literally and figuratively, much in the same way as he.  I studied journalism and education in college only to drop out after my junior year.  When I married at 21 my life took on a new meaning with starting a family.  My love of reading remained.  I returned to college and education after 20 years.  My career in teaching is currently in limbo as a result of a brain injury.  Mr. Whitman’s life and career was changed when he suffered a stroke.

What impresses me most about this poet is his tenacity and commitment.  He worked on his most famous work Leaves of Grass, through seven editions, until his death.

He never stopped working.  That encourages me.

His poem To A Stranger is a favorite.

To A Stranger

by Walt  Whitman   (1819 – 1892)

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me,
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

“Roses And Rue” – Oscar Wilde

Roses And Rue

by Oscar Wilde

(To L. L.)

Could we dig up this long-buried treasure,
Were it worth the pleasure,
We never could learn love’s song,
We are parted too long.

Could the passionate past that is fled
Call back its dead,
Could we live it all over again,
Were it worth the pain!

I remember we used to meet
By an ivied seat,
And you warbled each pretty word
With the air of a bird;

And your voice had a quaver in it,
Just like a linnet,
And shook, as the blackbird’s throat
With its last big note;

And your eyes, they were green and grey
Like an April day,
But lit into amethyst
When I stooped and kissed;

And your mouth, it would never smile
For a long, long while,
Then it rippled all over with laughter
Five minutes after.

You were always afraid of a shower,
Just like a flower:
I remember you started and ran
When the rain began.

I remember I never could catch you,
For no one could match you,
You had wonderful, luminous, fleet,
Little wings to your feet.

I remember your hair – did I tie it?
For it always ran riot –
Like a tangled sunbeam of gold:
These things are old.

I remember so well the room,
And the lilac bloom
That beat at the dripping pane
In the warm June rain;

And the colour of your gown,
It was amber-brown,
And two yellow satin bows
From your shoulders rose.

And the handkerchief of French lace
Which you held to your face –
Had a small tear left a stain?
Or was it the rain?

On your hand as it waved adieu
There were veins of blue;
In your voice as it said good-bye
Was a petulant cry,

‘You have only wasted your life.’
(Ah, that was the knife!)
When I rushed through the garden gate
It was all too late.

Could we live it over again,
Were it worth the pain,
Could the passionate past that is fled
Call back its dead!

Well, if my heart must break,
Dear love, for your sake,
It will break in music, I know,
Poets’ hearts break so.

But strange that I was not told
That the brain can hold
In a tiny ivory cell
God’s heaven and hell.

(For C. C. Always)

Happiness Is??

“Happiness is a by-product of an effort to make someone else happy.” – Gretta Brooker Palmer

As I become more and more acquainted with social media I’m reminded of just how wrapped up in happiness we all are. Our own happiness.  I think there’s a little narcissist in all of us.  But, when I think about it, concerning myself with others does much for my own contentment.  Without my effort.  It’s so easy to get caught up in my own little world and its woes that I can easily lose sight of those of others.  It’s normal I think.

But, when I busy myself with doing something for someone else it takes time and effort…a busyness that gives me a break from me.

I like that.

And I don’t do enough of it.

It does this…

• keeps me from thinking of myself which is a remedy for self-pity and self-absorption, if only for a little while.
• gives me the joy of seeing someone else happy because of me.
• fulfills a sense of gratification that only sacrifice can.
• encourages me because I’ve encouraged someone else.
• builds strong, loyal and valuable relationships.

All things that are good for me.  Things that are sure to make me happy.  All while doing something to make someone else happy.

Yes.  I like that.

That makes me happy.

🙂

Reading to recover?? I think so!

“You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who had ever been alive. ”  – James Baldwin

I’ve been thinking…a lot! And apparently, so have you…

…up to 50,000 – 60,000 thoughts a day! That’s according to the National Science Foundation.

Wow!

That’s a powerful thought, in and of itself!

But consider this…

How many of those thoughts are habitual? Thoughts that you’re simply unaware of? How many of those are wasted?  How many are just the same thoughts that you think everyday, the same ones that you thought yesterday?

How many are intentional?  How many are negative? Critical? Positive?

I’ve been thinking about my thoughts a lot lately.  In education we call that metacognition (thinking about your thinking).

It’s been said that our thoughts become our actions.  Our actions then lead to results (moods etc.).  Actions then lead to beliefs.

What if we harnessed our thoughts and controlled them, intentionally?  Realized our responsibility for them? Considered them assets?  Yes, I realize that we can’t possibly be aware of ALL of them, that would be mentally exhausting.  But, in general, what if we thought of them as assets and responsibilities?

This is a bit extreme.  But consider this analogy.  The old adage “A penny for your thoughts.”  If each thought were worth a penny, and each were positive…you’d earn $500/day.  That’s $3500/week!  Yep, extreme, but maybe not.

If thoughts lead to actions, they are powerful, aren’t they?  I think so.

I’m not sure where I’m going with all this.  Just thinking out loud.

But it’s something to think about, I think.

And I overthink anyway, so I might as well think about something worth thinking about.

Anyway, I’m still thinking about it.

*Sigh

Do you lose things too??

I lose things. Often. I always have but it seems to have become a real issue since my brain injury.

I’ve made a conscious effort to be more organized and it seems to be helping.  I don’t panic as much as I used to.  Things have a way of turning up.  But then sometimes they don’t.  I remember traveling once, thinking that I’d been very organized in my packing, only to end up unpacking in my hotel room to find one of my favorite shoes.  Never have found the other one.

But things seem to turn up most of the time.  I just found a missing earring last night.

And I’ve lost my car keys twice in the last 6 months.  The first time was over Thanksgiving.  I noticed that they were missing after I’d unloaded groceries from my car the day before Thanksgiving.  I looked everywhere.  I knew that they had to be in my apartment or on the grounds as I’d driven home from the supermarket.  It was too late to call the office to see if anyone had turned them in.  I decided to enjoy the holiday and check back with them on Friday.  Sure enough, someone had found them beside my car and turned them in.  Relief!

The second time I lost them in much the same way.  A neighbor found them beside my car. Again!

Both times someone had the opportunity to steal my car and didn’t!

Oh but it gets even better!

I’ve lost my purse many times!! The last time I was in the Salvation Army store.  I sat down in a chair to try on a pair of shoes. Yep! You guessed it!  I left my purse in the chair. When I got to the check out counter, I discovered I didn’t have it. I looked all over the store. I panicked. I got the attention of one of the employees and we both looked.  Everywhere. Just when I’d given up I sat down in the same chair and quietly prayed. Just then a lady came up to me with my purse. She was in tears.  I was confused. She explained to me that she had taken it.  She had stolen my purse!!  Somewhere in between all the tearful apologies she explained that God wouldn’t let her do it.  She got as far as the sidewalk and turned around.  She explained her dire financial situation and added that she couldn’t let her kids see her do something like that.  I had only $5 in my purse but offered it to her.  She wouldn’t take it.

Coincidences?  I don’t think so.

God follows me around and picks up after me, I think. 🙂

I said all that to say this.

In all the mess that is my life since alcoholism and brain injury, I’ve lost someone very dear to me.  Just yesterday I’ve been reminded of these incidences in which what I’ve lost has been found.  Not by me though.  And not always in the way that I would have expected.

The key is to not give up; to not lose hope.

“Don’t throw away the other just because you’ve lost the mate.”

I still have that favorite shoe…