Moving On

I "deactivated" my facebook account. It was time. Lately I've been mulling over the idea that there is no energy in logic, only in emotion. I had an emotional moment yesterday and it gave me the energy to hit all the right buttons and get rid of that time-sucker. I am so obsessive. I need to stop giving myself opportunities to waste my life. I need to take a Spanish class. And a dance class. And go to an acting workshop. And bike. And walk more. And read. Dear Goodness, anything but fade away in cyberland, waiting for something interesting to happen.

And yet here I am, on the internet, and this blog. :) Which isn't a bad thing. But it's time to get out of bed. I have coffee to make and life to live.

... little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Poems by Mary Oliver.

When I Am Among The Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

I try to live well. And to shut out the voices that say, "Mend my life!" and to reach for grace and understanding. I try to sit still and listen. I don't know how often I succeed. I'm still young and naive and a know-it-all. I still move too much and share too many secrets. But I'm growing. I try to grow. I move towards that hope of myself, in which I have goodness and discernment. I ask for help. I like to think that I receive it.