December 21, 22, 23: "Self Portrait," Self-Awareness, T-I-R-E-D

Mary Oliver introspects a little bit . . . 

Self-Portrait

by:  Mary Oliver

I wish I was twenty and in love with life

     and still full of beans.

Onward, old legs!

There are the long, pale dunes; on the other side

the roses are blooming and finding their labor

no adversity to the spirit.

Upward, old legs!  There are the roses, and there is the sea

shining like a song, like a body

I want to touch

though I'm not twenty

and won't be again but ah! seventy.  And still

in love with life.  And still

full of beans.

I've always thought of Mary Oliver as a very self-aware person.  In fact, most poets I know are pretty self-aware.  It sort of goes with the territory.  Oliver, in this poem, is very aware of her age and limitations.  She has to order her old legs to go "Onward" and "Upward" as if they are soldiers who need a morale boost.  Yet, Oliver also feels no different than she did when she was twenty:  she has been, is, and always will be full of beans.

I apologize for being absent again for another three days.  I used to be able to function on three or four hours of sleep, write daily blog posts and poems, teach, work, and go for long walks.  Now, I' lucky if my eyes aren't on the heavy side by 9 p.m.  So, like Oliver, I have identified and accepted by limitations.

In the past three days, I have hosted a Winter Solstice Zoom open mic with some friends, one of whom was actually born on the solstice:

And I did some last-minute shopping for Christmas yesterday (Friday).  There were hundreds and hundreds of people who were doing the same thing.  The shelves were pretty empty.  I couldn't even find a bottle of Light Corn Syrup.  (By the way, Dante forgot the tenth circle of the Inferno--Walmart two days before Christmas Eve.):

Today, our family celebrated its first official Christmas gathering.  We had a turkey dinner, drank mimosas, opened presents, and enjoyed each other's company with my wife's side of the family.  Every time my cup was empty, someone took it from my hand and refilled it.  When we left the gathering, I was filled with the Christmas spirits, literally and figuratively.

Then I played for a church service.  (In case you are wondering, I was mostly sober for playing the pipe organ.  If I made any mistakes, I didn't notice.  

I share all of this information to say:  I am t-i-r-e-d right now.  Feeling my age.  Like Oliver, I often feel no different from when I was 20.  Yet, my body reminds me of its true mileage.  Right now, I am practically comatose.  

Here are the things that haven't changed since I was 20:  I still love Christmas; I still love poetry; I still have terrible sleeping habits (I just feel the effects of my insomnia a LOT more); I still believe in the goodness of people; and, in case you are wondering, I, like Oliver,  am full of beans, too.

That's Saint Marty's lesson in self-awareness for today.

August 7: My Will and My Intelligence. T-I-R-E-D, Grading

Santiago gets ready for the fight . . .

I wonder why he jumped, the old man thought. He jumped almost as though to show me how big he was. I know now, anyway, he thought. I wish I could show him what sort of man I am. But then he would see the cramped hand. Let him think I am more man than I am and I will be so. I wish I was the fish, he thought, with everything he has against only my will and my intelligence.

Will and intelligence.  Some days, that's the only thing that makes me get out of bed.

Coming back from a vacation is never easy.  In my experience, I usually need a day to recover from it.  Perhaps this is a sign of age.  Or maybe it's an indication that, like most people, I turn my time off from work into a kind of job.  There's road trips to drive, tickets to buy, and meals to plan.

I'm not saying I didn't have a good time with my family at Great America.  But I am t-i-r-e-d.  And today I had to finish the grading for my online summer course.  I had about 15 or 16 final essay exams to grade.  I started early this afternoon and worked for five hours straight.  I did it only by will and intelligence., because everything in my body just wanted to take a nap.

As I sit on my couch typing this post, however, I feel a sense of accomplishment.  The end-of-semester grading today was not as torturous as it usually is for me.  I made a concerted effort these past six weeks to be diligent in my grading.  I responded to student work every day.  A lot of the time, the turnaround for grading an assignment was less than two hours.

Looking back, I have to say this class is the most successful online course I've taught, and I've taught quite a few.  It's really easy, if you don't look your students in the face every day, to procrastinate on grading and posting assignments and lectures.  This is especially true if you are a contingent professor who works another full-time job to pay bills and maintain medical insurance.  The last thing I want to think about after working a nine- or ten- or eleven-hour day is sifting through a pile of papers or exams or discussion forums.

It's only by will and intelligence that I kept my head above water this summer.  And it was only by will and intelligence that I got shit done today.  Now, I have more time to breathe before the fall semester starts.  

Maybe I'll have a few more days off to breathe even more deeply.  Or write poems.  Read a good book.  See a movie.  Think about a friend who's seriously struggling to hold on to life every day.  Remind myself what's important.

Saint Marty's blessing for today:  time to breathe deeply and send love into the universe.

May 1: Slept Face Down, End-of-Semester Craziness, T-I-R-E-D

Santiago makes it home . . . 

Finally he put the mast down and stood up. He picked the mast up and put it on his shoulder and started up the road. He had to sit down five times before he reached his shack.

Inside the shack he leaned the mast against the wall. In the dark he found a water bottle and took a drink. Then he lay down on the bed. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and then over his back and legs and he slept face down on the newspapers with his arms out straight and the palms of his hands up.

I understand this kind of exhaustion.  I'm in the battle of end-of-semester craziness.  Today, I graded 70 original myths and two sets of exams.  Tomorrow, I have 70 original fairy tales to grade, plus more exams.  My eyes are t-i-r-e-d.

Saint Marty's koan for tonight:  sleep is more precious than fish.