I do not have much time this evening to be reflective. In a little over an hour, I have to meet my wife and attend a performance given by my daughter's dance studio. It's an annual event that usually takes place right after Halloween. So, I am feeling a little rushed at the moment.
However, I did have time to choose the next Poet of the Week. Robert Hass. I chose him simply because I love the following poem from his collection Field Guide:
Basho: A Departure
by: Robert Hass
Summer is over and
we part, like eyelids,
like clams opening.
First, I love haiku. Second, I love the longing and loss in these three really short lines. It's a poem that really captures autumn in all its letting-go-ness. October and November are letting-go months. Summer lets go. Leaves let go. Light lets go. It's a season of parting.
I am not going to get all morose on you tonight. I did that in yesterday's post. In fact, in the days leading up to the American holiday of Thanksgiving, I have decided to give thanks for something in every post. This task may sound easy, but I am a perpetual pessimist. Some people see the glass as half-full, and some see it as half-empty. I see the glass as a petri dish of virulent bacteria.
So, setting aside my normal tendencies, today I give thanks for . . . my daughter's dance performance. It's something to which I look forward every year. The music is good, and I get to see my daughter doing something she loves. Plus, for an hour or so, I don't worry about bills to pay or papers to grade. It's a great escape.
That wasn't as painful as I thought it was going to be.
It is also time for my weekly Ives dip. There's only one question really pressing on my mind this evening:
Will I be able to afford to get the brakes on my car fixed soon?
And the answer:
Then they were silent. They walked up a stretch of the block, across the way from the projects, a nerve-racking experience, even with a guard in a booth, because people were always getting held up, sometimes stabbed on that street. They had reached Broadway when Robert added: "You know, sometimes I think about what it would be like to be dead. All I know is that He will be waiting. It scared me for a long time, but you know what, Pop? It doesn't anymore."
I suppose that response could mean that I don't really have to worry. Robert isn't afraid of death anymore because he knows that God is going to be there for him. Maybe I should stop fretting about my brakes because God is already working on a solution.
Saint Marty just has to trust. Have faith. Give thanks.
Off the Top of My Head