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What Do You Plan to do With Your One Precious Life?
The Summer Day Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do not know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass,how to…
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My Grandmother’s Way
“We always put manure on our garden and we never had any bugs, but now they’ve got all those fancy fertilizers. You just watch they’ll be coming back to our ways.” Her voice had a ring of independence. She knew what she was talking about. She was a farmer and a hard worker. I would come upon her in the garden — her short sturdy figure bent over vegetables or stooped picking strawberries in the hot morning sun. She wore a cotton-checked dress and a big straw hat that covered her freckled face and milky white shoulders. Only her hands, stained by the earth, were weathered. ” I always put a potato in my…
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In Love with Rome
I love Rome – its ancient buildings, art, beautiful gardens and umbrella trees that poke the blue sky everywhere. Several years ago I visited Rome with a friend. Our modest hotel was comfortable and the hospitality almost fawning. Our savvy travel agent hired knowledgeable guides who picked us up each day and took us on “forced marches” to sites such as The Vatican, the Coliseum, and the Roman Forum. After our tours we would slip away and visit cafes, sip espresso while poring over guide books. We were looking for secret places in the city. It turned out the places we ended up with were not very secret, but they…
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Listening with the Ears of Birds
At the moment, the world does not seem to be in a place of listening. We are all in a rush to make our voices heard. Everyone is rushing to say something new, but we can not hear because we are all talking over each other. Nature interrupts us gently. We all love to hear birds sing and some of us can even identify a bird by its particular song. I know a few songs, but I know birdwatchers who can distinguish 100’s of songs and their respective birds. But birds have a gift that is even more miraculous. It’s their ears. They can pick up vibrations of the earth and…
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A “New” Balance
When I was much younger I ran quite a lot. My running shoes went everywhere with me and I was proud that even during my pregnancy I continued to run right up until days before our son was born. Running was a passion. It allowed me to feel great while keeping in good shape. You might remember my blog of last year titled “Achilles Heel.” Since then I have spent time with a good podiatrist and have worn a special boot and orthotics only to find out that plantar fasciitis never completely heals. I look back over my running and there were several characteristics which typified it. I often ran on very…
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Every Inch a Professor
Before Thanksgiving I called my beloved Shakespeare Professor. She is in her mid-nineties and I have kept in contact with her since I was a young college student. I have looked to her as a teacher and mentor throughout my life. I even called her when I knew I was not going to achieve the PhD. at Brown University. She responded then, as always, with kindness and grace. This past Wednesday I dialed her number and heard her voice, but I could tell she was not well. My heart sank. I suddenly realized that she would not always be there. How can I explain in a few paragraphs what she…
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Your Place in the Family of Things
from Wild Geese … the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting — over and over announcing your place in the family of things. (Mary Oliver) It has been almost a year since I left New York City for the small seaside town of Asbury Park, NJ. I have come to feel a part of this landscape, but at times I have also felt like a lone ship on the sea. I love to see the broad expanse of the ocean every day, but I sometimes miss the dazzling nightscape of New York. However, I do manage to get back to…
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Music’s Power to Change
The past three weeks I have been hard at work practicing Mozart’s Requiem. Last week, I had the pleasure of performing this Requiem with a choir of 20 choristers and a small orchestra of 9 instrumentalists. During the rehearsals we were still learning this difficult piece. The night of the performance everything changed. The rhythm became faster and it was musically sound and passionate. Of course a lot has to do with practice, but most of all we had the audience. We came alive and our voices and instruments were inspired by Mozart’s marvelous work. Music has the power to transform us and affect our minds. When I sing I forget…
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Forever in the Stream
In the Fall my appetite leads me away from prose and seeks out verse. As the earth turns brown and the trees turn red and gold, it feels natural to reach for the kaleidoscopic lens of poetry. The poets Mary Oliver and T.S. Eliot are personal favorites – her love of nature and living and the cadences of Eliot’s Four Quartets, “Murder in the Cathedral” and other poems. I feel the rhythms of the poor people of Canterbury as they mirror persons left behind in our world. What can I do to better understand Eliot’s powerful cycle of life (renewal) and death? How can I walk in the woods seeing…
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Times they are a Changin
The 2019 Nobel Prize awards are being announced. I remember when Bob Dylan won his Nobel Prize three years ago. In 2016, Dylan received a Nobel Prize in Literature for “having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition.” At the time, Harvard offered a seminar called “Bob Dylan,” and the professor and students there celebrated with cup cakes. Many critics opposed giving this award to a songwriter. But the beloved Joyce Carol Oates tweeted: “Inspired &; original choice…. His haunting music &; lyrics have always seemed, in the deepest sense, literary.” Early on, the young Joan Baez recognized Dylan’s ear and talent for poetry and writing. They…
