June 8: "Six Recognitions of the Lord," Wilbur, Fancy Words

Mary Oliver encounters God . . .

Six Recognitions of the Lord

by:  Mary Oliver

1.

I know a lot of fancy words.

I tear them from my heart and my tongue.

Then I pray.

2.

Lord God, mercy is in your hands, pour

me a little.  And tenderness too.  My

need is great.  Beauty walks so freely

and with such gentleness.  Impatience puts

a halter on my face and I run away over

the green fields wanting your voice, your

tenderness, but having to do with only

the sweet grasses of the fields against

my body.  When I first found you I was

filled with light, now the darkness grows

and it is filled with crooked things, bitter

and weak, each one bearing my name.

3.

I lounge on the grass, that's all.  So

simple.  Then I lie back until I am

inside the cloud that is just above me

but very high, and shaped like a fish.

Or, perhaps not.  Then I enter the place

of not-thinking, not-remembering, not-

wanting.  When the blue jay cries out his 

riddle, in his carping voice, I return.  

But I go back, the threshold is always

near.  Over and back, over and back.  Then

I rise.  Maybe I rub my face as though I 

have been asleep.  But I have not been

asleep.  I have been, as I say, inside

the cloud, or, perhaps, the lily floating

on the water.  Then I go back to town,

to my own house, my own life, which has

now become brighter and simpler, some-

where I have never been before.

4.

Of course I have always known you

are present in the clouds, and the

black oak I especially adore, and the

wings of birds.  But you are present

too in the body, listening to the body,

teaching it to live, instead of all

that touching, with disembodied joy.

We do not do this easily.  We have 

lived so long in the heaven of touch,

and we maintain our mutability, our

physicality, even as we begin to

apprehend the other world.  Slowly we

make our appreciative response.

Slowly appreciation swells to

astonishment.  And we enter the dialogue

of our lives that is beyond all under-

standing or conclusion.  It is mystery.

It is love of God.  It is obedience.

5.

Oh, feed me this day, Holy Spirit, with

the fragrance of the fields and the 

freshness of the oceans which you have

made, and help me to hear and to hold

in all dearness those exacting and wonderful

words of our Lord Christ Jesus, saying:

Follow me.

6.

Every summer the lilies rise

     and open their white hands until they almost

cover the black waters of the pond. And I give

     thanks but it does not seem like adequate thanks,

it doesn't seem

     festive enough or constant enough, nor does the

name of the Lord or the words of thanksgiving come

     into it often enough.  Everywhere I go I am

treated like royalty, which I am not.  I thirst and

     am given water.  My eyes thirst and I am given

the white lilies on the black water.  My heart

     sings but the apparatus of singing doesn't convey

half what it feels and means.  In spring there's hope,

     in fall the exquisite, necessary diminishing, in 

winter I am as sleepy as any beast in its

     leafy cave, but in summer there is

everywhere the luminous sprawl of gifts,

     the hospitality of the Lord and my

inadequate answers as I row my beautiful, temporary body

     through the water-lily world.

It's a pretty common theme in literature--this quest for the Lord.  Think about it.  Wilbur's quest for a friend in Charlotte's Web, and Charlotte answering from above.  The little spider sacrifices her life to save her porcine friend's life.  Then there's Holden's fantasy of saving all the children of the world from rushing off a cliff into adulthood.  All Holden wants to do is preserve everything innocent and pure.  Then there's Luke Skywalker using the power of the Force to defeat the Emperor with the help of the holy ghost of Obi-Wan.  And Scrooge's redemption because of visits from a trinity of Christmas spirits.  Frodo has to carry his ring/cross to the top of Mount Doom, and with it the hope of all of Middle Earth.  I could go on if you want me to, but you get the idea.

Oliver's encounters with the Lord in this poem are very transcendental--she sees beyond what she can see.  The Lord is in sweet grasses, clouds, a black oak, the wings of birds, and water lilies.  Basically, signs of the divine are everywhere, Oliver says.  We just don't open our minds or hearts or eyes enough to recognize them.  Because we are limited, impatient creatures.  To borrow from Biblical narrative, we are Paul on the way to Damascus, having to be struck blind to fully see and hear and experience God.

It has been a long day.  I got to the library at around 7:15 this morning, and I didn't leave until around 8:30 tonight.  I worked on event planning and a PowerPoint presentation and handouts.  For most of the day, I was holed up in my office, staring at computer screens.  However, it was work I enjoyed--creative and challenging.  This is my first recognition of the Lord today.  

It was my son's last day of school for the summer, and he managed to maintain all A's this academic year.  My daughter is studying to take the MCAT in July and will graduate with her bachelor's degree this coming December.  Even though my wife has some mental health struggles, she seems to be doing alright, at work and at home.  This is my second recognition of the Lord today.

The rear brakes on my Subaru have been grinding terribly for a couple weeks, getting progressively louder and more alarming.  Today, the husband of my wife's cousin fixed our brakes.  (From what I understand, the pads needed replacing.)  He did the work for free, and the parts only came to around $40.  I will do something to thank him for his generosity of time and labor and spirit.  This is my third recognition of the Lord today.

This evening, I got together with some poet friends for a monthly meeting of the Marquette Poets Circle.  Although only a few people showed up (it is summer), I was able to talk poetry, read poetry aloud, and listen to others read poetry aloud.  This might not sound like a whole lot of fun to my disciples who aren't into poetry, but, for me, it was my fourth recognition of the Lord today.

Also this evening, one of my best friends had an art gallery reception at the library.  We've known each other for over thirty years, and she has helped me through a lot of difficult shit in my life.  Her art is needle felting, and she created some amazing work for this show.  I got to hang with her for a little while tonight and enjoy her beautiful exhibit.  That was my fifth recognition of the Lord today.

Like I said, I was inside most of the day.  However, the view from my office window was alive with blue, blue sky and the kind of green you only see in Bob Ross landscapes.  Not a happy little accident of a cloud to be found.  And that was my sixth recognition of the Lord today.  

Like Oliver, Saint Marty knows a lot of fancy words.  Tonight, he tears those words from his heart and tongue, and offers a prayer of thanks for this water-lily day instead.

December 30: A Tremendous Thing, Best Friend, Prayer for a Coworker

“You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing...after all, what's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die...By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.”

Charlotte's definition of friendship is pretty powerful.  It's all about sacrifice.  By helping Wilbur, she makes herself a better spider.  I think that's why E. B., White's book has endured for so long.  Charlotte is noble, selfless, and true.  We all want to have a Charlotte in our lives.

Last night, one of my best friends came to my house for a visit.  Let's call him Frodo.  Frodo was the best man at my wedding.  I've known him longer than I've known my wife.  In fact, he introduced me to my wife.  After he graduated from high school, he lived in Hawaii.  Then New Zealand.  Recently, he settled in California.  That's why he's home for the holidays this year.  He's only half a country away instead of half a hemisphere.

So, last night, we played the original version of Trivial Pursuit.  Genus Edition.  That means there were questions about the Soviet Union.  The West German Flag.  Things that don't exist any more but were relevant when the game was invented.  It was fantastic.  It was like stepping into a time machine.  We were back in the 1990s.  Young.  Passionate.  Full of hope.

And then we tried to get up off the living room floor without grunting and muttering things like, "Why didn't we sit at the dining room table?" and "I'm going to regret this tomorrow morning."  We had a wonderful time.  That's why I didn't post last night.  I was reliving my youth for a few hours.  By the time my friend left, it was close to midnight, and I was exhausted.

It's always nice to be reminded of the strength of friendship.  I haven't seen Frodo for almost three years.  Yet, we didn't miss a beat.  It was like the Soviet Union still existed, and the Berlin Wall wasn't in a million little pieces on people's mantles across the globe.  Frodo is the same.  I'm the same.  Our friendship is the same.  And I felt incredibly lucky last night.

Today, at work, one of my coworkers tried to harm herself.  It was an incredibly sad day.  "Mandy" is one of the kindest people in the office.  Always helpful and funny.  Always going the extra mile for patients.  She's spoken to me about her previous struggles with depression, but I never would have known she was struggling again.  Mandy's safe in the hospital now, thank goodness.  But she has a long recovery ahead of her.

I'm lucky.  I know I have family and friends, like Frodo, who love me.  I knew that last night.  I'm just hoping Mandy knows how much she is loved.

That's my prayer this evening.  I'm praying for Mandy, and I'm asking you to do the same.  Pray for her health and happiness.  Pray for her little boy and girl.  Let them all feel God's loving embrace.  Let them know the love and strength of friends and family.  There is Light in the darkness.

That is Saint Marty's solemn prayer this evening.

 This is for Mandy...

VOTE FOR ME FOR U. P. POET LAUREATE (voting ends tomorrow, December 31):

U. P. Poet Laureate Voting 

December 29: Lynn Emanuel, "Whites," Frodo

I didn’t get a chance to post a poem for P.O.E.T.S. Day last night.  I had a friend from New Zealand come over for a visit.  Let’s call him Frodo.  Well, Frodo, my wife, and I spent the evening visiting and playing the game Life.  I don’t like Life.  However, I couldn’t talk Frodo and my wife into a movie.  I even suggested Annie Hall and Stranger Than Fiction, two of my favorite films.

Anyway, I thought I’d give you a poem today.  It’s not quite Christmas-themed, but it is by a poet named Lynn Emanuel (“Emanuel” is Christmassy), and it does mention the Savior.  And it is a great poem.

Saint Marty dedicates this poem to Frodo, his atheist friend from Down Under.

Whites

The scar, the moon, the blind man’s cane, the gluey soup of barley,

the bread, the milk, the chalked concoctions that coat the ulcer,

the blind man’s eye, the banker’s long, pale, trembling fingers

poking at the family ledgers until even the neighbors come by

to get a look at folks so relentlessly unsuccessful.  The tubers,

the roots, long and damp and weeping, the nurses’ noses stuck

into our business.  Weevils in sacks of spoiled flour,

grandmother’s feet pared with a paring knife, Dulles, Eisenhower.

Glaciers’ paunches, slow and heavy, the body of the Savior

on the altar wall, in the tub upstairs, Pierre, the naked sailor.

My friend's feet aren't quite this big