pale september.

my oh my.

how on earth is it september already?
to where has the time gone?

i'm a bit sad to see summer and sun and heat being ushered away.

"the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared..."
-- pale september, fiona apple

but anyone who knows me, knows i relish in the changing of seasons.
and i especially love the start of autumn.
it is nearing. i feel its presence.
like fiona, apple that is, i'm excited about a pale september.
i'm eager to discover what lessons and new growth will come.

afterall, there's still growth in the fall;
it just looks different than the spring and summer.
time is ordered differently in the autumn months.
and i'm so ready for new rhythms to take root in my life.

pale september, i wore the time like a dress that year
the autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin...
-- pale september, fiona apple

mmm-hmmm.
it's prose like these that get me extra excited about this time of year.
.happy to enter into a new season.

.reflecting on six months' time.

'my heart is just getting used to the idea of mercy...'

-- aaron strumpel

'Thy mercy my God is the theme of my song
the joy of my heart, and the boast of my tongue
Thy free grace alone, from the first to the last
hath won my affection and bound my soul fast...'

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

'Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart,
which wonders to feel its own hardness depart
dissolved by Thy goodness, i fall to the ground
and weep for the praise of the mercy i've found...'

-- john stocker (published in 1776)

'i do not at all understand the mystery of grace -
only that it meets us where we are but
does not leave us where it found us.'

-- anne lamott (from traveling mercies)

stay bewildered

Stay bewildered in God and only that.
Those of you who are scattered,
simplify your worrying lives.
There is one righteousness.
Water the fruit trees and
don't water the thorns.
Be generous to what nurtures the spirit and
God's luminous reason-light.
Don't honor what causes dysentery and
knotted-up tumors.
Don't feed both sides of yourself equally.
The spirit and the body carry
different loads and
require different attentions.

-- Rumi

The Ecstatic Faith of Rumi
Krista Tippet's interview with Fatemeh Keshavarz

Yesterday, I entered into one of my favorite Sabbath rhythms. When I'm not traveling or out of town on the weekends, I love listening or even re-listening to my favorite Speaking of Faith sessions. Sometimes I read along with the transcript of the program, sometimes I sit still, sometimes I cut vegetables, and sometimes I think about how much I miss my art supplies, namely mod-podge and paint. I like being able use my hands while I soak up good words. But I try to listen, and I try to reflect... as well as learn how to stay bewildered.

spring's wonder.

Before summer begins officially (that is, the northern hemisphere summer solstice), I must give thanks for the gift that spring was this year.

Thank You,
Giver of All Life
who alone
brings new
seasons
to pass.

I remember when I returned to the Büs in mid-April, after having spent the end of Holy Week and beginning of Easter in Spain, Portugal, and France, it was like I was returning to another world. Spring had exploded. There was no other word to describe the color and blooms and blossoms that greeted me from every corner of the earth. Lent had ended. Spring had come. Easter was here. Glory be.

It felt like this:

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke

mmmm. hmmmmmm.
most recklessly.

Who better to quote from than Rilke? I have fallen more deeply in love with him the past few months.; Living in Europa makes his words come to life all the more. Standing in places that inspired him are sacred. I get to journey with him here. I keep hearing about more and more people who studied Deutsch just so that they could read/translate Rilke. That's what he does to people.

I like this too.
a lot.

Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke

thanks be.

tomaten.

Ode To Tomatoes
by Pablo Neruda

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

you can't do it all alone

don't push so hard against the world, no,
you can't do it all alone
and if you could, would you really want to?
even though you're a big strong girl,
come on, come on, lay it down
the best made plans
come on, come on, lay it down
are your open hands
are your open hands

-- deb talan

a good day.

Afternoon on a Hill
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!

everything changed

Everything changed

the day she figured out

there was exactly enough time

for the important things

in her life

-- "Enough Time", Brian Andreas

www.storypeople.com

Word. Word to your motha'. I want to discover this truth.

Time is always such an issue for everyone. Whenever you ask someone, "How are you doing?", you'll typically get one of two responses (and sometimes both!): either, "Tired." or "Busy." And although, I appreciate the honesty, I really do, there must be an alternative. Now, ya'll know I'm not calling for people to lie and say they're doing "Good" or "Fine" when in reality they are tired and busy, but I, myself, want to come to a place where there is 'exactly enough time for the important things in life'. That sounds amazing, and I really think it is possible; it's a matter of perspective, and it's a matter of intentional practice.

What things are life-giving? Being in San Diego these past few weeks has given me both time and space to explore this very question and more. Of course I came here with such high hopes that after the fall-out in R-side, I would be able to read a new book each day and meditate and think and just be. And although time still escapes me somehow, even when I don't have a job or classes to maintain, I think I am beginning to scratch the surface on this poem-statement at the beginning of this post.

Because ultimately what matters to me is people.

When it comes down to it, the important things are not things at all. Yes, I want to be saturated in the things that are life-giving to me like surrounding myself with good music, sitting in the sunshine, going for walks, riding my bike, reading a book for pleasure, dancing just to dance, preparing and eating healthy food, taking time to reflect, etc., BUT I have found that I don't take advantage of these things as much, to the fullest that is, when I feel like I am all alone. Meaning, living by myself in R-side had its perks, but when it came down to it, I wasn't experiencing the goodness and beauty of life as fully because there wasn't someone to enjoy it with. Does that make sense?

Being in San Diego, a city that I love, with so many dear friends in this same city, has made me realize that I am much more likely to hone into the little pleasures of life when there is someone to share them with... even if that sharing is just done in the re-counting of one's day before we head to bed. So, of course I love riding my bike with a friend, but even if I happen to go for a bike ride by myself, the fact that there is someone to share my bike story with at the end of the day makes it so much more delightful. Truly. Because then we're sharing life. Together.

And sharing life with people is what it all comes down to.

Yep. I want to be able to say, 'everything changed....'.

a dream deferred?

Right now i am processing a lot, a whole lot.  The post titled "not quite winter, not quite fall..." was only a preface to the uncertainty that is at hand now.  Dang, I thought I wasn't sure of much about a week ago, but I am really not sure of much right now.  I am mourning and grieving the loss of so many things... one of the most difficult being the death of a dream.  Does a dream die...?

It sure feels as though it has died.

The classic Langston Hughes poem came to mind today - most know it from A Raisin in the Sun.  I remember being so drawn in to the journey of the character's struggles when reading the play in high school, and I still have to laugh at the thought of my dad being volunteered by my omi to be a part of the cast when he lived in Austria as a young boy.  And now, the same poem greets me today.  What happens to a dream?

Here's the poem...

A Dream Deferred

by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up 

like a raisin in the sun? 

Or fester like a sore-- 

And then run? 

Does it stink like rotten meat? 

Or crust and sugar over-- 

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags 

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?