January 17, 2025: "Miscarriage," Loss, "Giving Thanks"

So much of human behavior confounds me.

Here's a list of things that I don't understand:

• Over 77 million people voting for a convicted felon to be President of the United States
• Neighbors who take down their Christmas trees on December 26
• Pickles
• The ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey
• Suffering of any kind
• Anyone who hasn't seen Star Wars
• Mean people
• People who get their news from Facebook
• David Lynch haters
• Vaccine deniers
• Poetry haters

I could go on, but you get the idea.  The biggest thing I don't understand, however, is profound loss.

Sharon Olds writes about loss . . . 

Miscarriage

by: Sharon Olds

When I was a month pregnant, the great

clots of blood appeared in the pale

green swaying water of the toilet,.

Dark red like black in the salty

translucent brine, like forms of life

appearing, jelly-fish with the clear-cut

shapes of fungi.

That was the only appearance made by that

child, the dark, scalloped shapes

falling slowly.  A month later

our son was conceived, and I never went back

to mourn the one who came as far as the

sill with its information;  that we could

botch something, you and I.  All wrapped in

purple it floated away, like a messenger

put to death for bearing bad news.

Loss, of course, comes in all shapes and sizes.  There are huge losses (the California wildfires right now), and there are smaller losses (a couple losing a baby to miscarriage, as in Olds' poem).  I would bet, however, that a couple who goes through a miscarriage feels that loss just a powerfully (if not more so) as a couple who loses their home to a fire.  

I try to remind myself every day that people I encounter have all lost someone or something important to them.  It's one of the things that sort of binds humanity together--we all nurse these kinds of wounds, whether those wounds are scarred over or fresh as a papercut,  Even the biggest assholes on the planet on the planet probably have pictures in their wallets of dead mothers, fathers, spouses, or kids.  

How do I deal with loss?  I try to find small things every day to celebrate, from a really good piece of toast to a poem that makes my heart sing "Now Thank We All Our God."  Doing this keeps me from descending into despondency.  

Yes, there's a lot of shitty things happening in the world right now.  But there are also beautiful sunrises; people providing meals to the hungry; elderly neighbors who send birthday cards to kids on their street; puppies who lick your face until you can't stop laughing.  It's just a matter of pausing to recognize these small moments of grace and say "thank you."

Saint Marty celebrates a small moment, based on the following prompt from The Daily Poet:

Write down three things you did yesterday.  Think about the specific details of each event using all of the five senses:  what you saw, heard, touched, smelled, and tasted.  Choose one of these events to write a poem about.  Or write one poem with three sections made up from each of the events.

Giving Thanks

by: Martin Achatz

When my dog squats 

in my backyard to shit

in the snow, then turns

around to smell what

she has just accomplished,

I think to myself, yes,

I get it.  I understand

the need to give thanks

for everything, tiny 

or gigantic, that we do,

because the world is too

big and so much goes

unnoticed.