Friday, May 21, 2010

Am not sure what this is. That's probably why I bought it -- at the grocery store! Clearly, it cannot be edible to anyone or anything on this earth?

Monday, May 17, 2010

OTIS July 1992 - April 2010

Whose religion centered around tearing off any loose wallpaper; who, over time, turned the banister into splinters as he clawed his way from the first to second floor, never taking stairs when there was an opportunity to shred wood; who could wake from the deepest sleep by the scent of freshly toasted bread, leaping to the table or my lap and tearing off tiny bits of toast, flinging the scraps every which way and only eating the bits that had the most butter; who, spiritually, mentaly and physically
could not abide flowers in vases -- never once failing to swat every flower out of every vase (eating a few, ignoring the rest); whose purr was certain remedy for any sadness, small or large. Apparently no remedy for the sadness that attends his passing.

My new mantra

If at first an idea does not sound absurd, then there is no hope for it."
--Albert Einstein

poem by Jack Myers

Desert is the Memory of Water

After I am gone and the ache begins
to cease and the slow erosion I felt,
being older than you, invades you too,
you’ll come to see that an image of the desert
is the memory of water, like remembering

when we were walking in beautiful Barcelona
and you said you thought trees were gods
because they were rooted in earth
and flew in the air and magically made food
out of light and made the air we breathe.

I was stunned how you could open up a God-space
just like that. Like when my 2-year-old dug holes
in the yard and fit his face into each of them to see,
as he explained, if he could find where the darkness
came from. Then you asked me why I never prayed.

I believe whatever disappears or survives
or comes into being is a prayer that’s already
been answered, and that we feel alone
because we won’t let go of what is gone
or changed or hasn’t happened yet.

Waking this morning with my arms around you,
the dogs snoring, and a mourning dove cooing,
I felt I awoke in a peaceable kingdom
where the fear of death turned inside-out
into a love for life. If I prayed, I’d pray for that for you.

-- Jack Myers, from his final collection,
The Memory of Water