Ponder-osa

Ponderosa Pines
grow above our steps
from grass to grass.

Thin giants with
circles of years -
rings we'll never
live up to.

Mystified as to
how humans cry,
these trees remain
stumped.

Five songs blasted from a Jeep,
while wilderness girls lay
staring up at
memories in the sky
from sounds and words -

the feelings come out.

The trees,
confused by novels
about this life
and feeling -
anything -
grow roots -

while we get to feel it all.

Study Break

You can't beat Tracy Chapman on this one, but these guys brightened up my piles and piles of workity work work.  

And I - ee - I

had a feeling that I belonged

And I - ee - I

had a feeling I could be someone

be someone 

be someone

I can't say that these piles of work make me feel that way, really at all - but imagining that moment when you're finally out there, driving - driving fast - and everything seems like it's working out...

Well, I guess that's what this work is all hoping for.

Thanks, Tracy (and fellow cover artists).  

A Little Bit on Hope

From a walk through Millbrook Village, New Jersey yesterday.
I love the long shadows of winter and that bright blue sky. 

The other day on my drive down to New Jersey I was listening to an On Being episode with Quaker singer Carrie Newcomer.  It was the Thanksgiving episode where the interview was woven in and out of her folksy music; it was the perfect peaceful combination to listen to after a stressful semester.  

Do you ever hear something or think something and feel the need to write it down before you forget it?  During this episode, Carrie spoke about hope and I went back and found the transcript online to remember the words exactly.  It goes like this:

"And then there's like a hope that's gritty - It's like, the kind of hope that gets up every morning and chooses to try to make the world just a kinder place in your own way.  And the next morning gets up, and does it again.  And the next morning, gets up, and you have been disappointed.  And you do it again.  I wanted to write about the kind of hope that's faithful, that kind that Niebuhr talked about: 'anything worth doing will probably not be achieved in one lifetime... so we are saved by hope.'  And that's a harder kind of hope to live with, because it's easier to be cynical.  I mean, when you're cynical, you're never disappointed."

When I think about hope, Emily Dickinson's poem pops into my head.  Her rendition of hope is this:

"Hope" is the thing with feathers - (314)

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul - 

And sings the tune without words - 

And never stops - at all - 

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - 

And sore must be the storm - 

That could abash the little Bird -

That kept so many warm - 

I've heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest sea - 

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

I like holding the two of these together, thinking of hope as a belief that is a choice and requires faith, but also something that rests and perches inside of us.  

Here's Carrie singing Betty's Diner, a Joni Mitchell-esque song about people in a diner.  Being in New Jersey, where there's a silver diner melting on the corner of most towns, it seems appropriate to post this one.

Here's to hope!