Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy
cathy_edgett

more thoughts -

Sometimes I feel like a baby with this ring of soft hair, and an attitude of seeing everything new.  There is wonder there, and excitement, and I realize I am very present in that, very present with my life, and perhaps, that is then, part of the fatigue.  I burst into tears easily now, as I feel my fatigue, and I think of babies and children, and sometimes we wonder why they cry.  Maybe there is so much they want to see and do, and then, there is fatigue, and maybe the fatigue is the censor, the screen, so we don't overdo, and I am really sensitive to that right now, and that is probably a good thing.  Why would I want to push myself beyond what is comfortable for me?   Haven't I done that?  Isn't this something new I can learn?  I am grateful I cry so easily now, and grateful I can feel my fatigue.

Someone asked Steve the other day what he did if he didn't play golf.   He then listed what he enjoys doing for leisure, but I found myself thinking I would not answer with what I do, but I would now say I enjoy being.   In some ways, I have no choice in it.  I seem to be too tired to even read of late, and so, I sit and feel.  Today, I rest in the hammock of feeling fatigue, of acceptance of tears and rest.  I am a lullaby today.  

I offer this prose poem by Gary Young.

    "Our life is one catastrophe after another. Disaster dogs us.  I'm
     the luckiest man alive, and you know what that means.
     Earthquakes, landslides, falling trees.   Wind and rain and rising
     waters.  What the hell, we survive.  The coyotes are screaming on
     the other side of the field; it's a strange music.  The stars are out. 
     It's lovely here, and like the wind, I marry you every day."


Peter Johnson says that in this poem of Gary Young's "Good and Evil stand side by side, with Young suggesting that our response to them should be as natural as the elements that take turns pounding and consoling us."   He also says in this poem "we somehow assert our humanity, as Young does when he remarries the world and an anonymous "you," most likely his beloved, though also possibly the reader because, for Young, writing implies commitment, spirituality, and recognition of contingencies."

I think, this morning, of this writing, of you and me, and the ribbon of life we breathe back and forth, like the fish in the sea. 
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