"Some Questions You Might Ask" by Mary Oliver
- Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn’t?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?
( underscored is our favorite line)
Dennis has discovered Mary Oliver and for the first time in his life LOVES poetry that is not about science. Or is it?
(volunteer grape hyacinth in a pot of the deck, just popped up!)
(Cherry buds below)
What about the stuff we collect? What about the unearthed treasure of past civilizations giving us a wealth of perspective , history, a buzz of wonder- lives lived in extraordinary times, bones, isn't there "soul" in "stuff" ?
Dennis's request is to have his body donated to the university med dept. - not before he is well and truly dead, mind you. I understand but (ew)...My parents , my brother, my friends requested cremation. I find no peace in that either. A jar in the china hutch full of ashes carries no sense of soul, just a feeling of obligation and loss.
Here is an option-A tiny garden , a place for folks to sit , eat a sandwich, feel and think, a modest tomb in which things of that life lived beside a shriveled corpse , good teeth , until, in a thousand years or so , it would all be unearthed by enthusiastic students of anthropology perplexed, astounded and delighted, with objects of these times, important historical items , like plastic orphans a perfectly dried loaf of sourdough, perhaps a bog roll.
Taking up valuable land space in this overly crowded world might be unwise. If the spot of land , however, is a time capsule for future anthropologists- and a "meanwhile" place for folks to gather wits and maybe a "lay thy burdens down" reprieve, why not? A place for dogs to romp and pee and for children to gather for ghost stories at dusk, I am opting for that.
Dennis is opting for medical science. Both are pretty good choices, just that one is free of expense and one is most certainly not! Buying a small park with tomb might be prohibitive.
By the way, another orphan arrived! As Fresca pointed out, our house may have been marked like in the old hobo days.
Name is Tula , goes by Toot.
It has been such an existential crisis year has it NOT? Question everything, judge not, with the exception of orange shenanigans and the fallout, which continues and will for some time. Wear a mask for the rest of your life, stay well , do how you do, go a little bit mad. Some happenings during this past year have shaken priorities and perspective in a no nonsense way, limiting choices has actually given us the opportunity and space to be more thoughtful about the ones we do make.
Life - a blip, as quick and as temporary as that minute that just went by. Swallow blue pill, shop at the midnight internet store, buy a dolly army, make bread, obsess over raccoon life, walk empty street to nowhere, paint tiny things in a gorgeous hand made booklet, love and admire blog world folks, who have all done so remarkable well during this keeping boat afloat year. I thank you all! You are brilliant.
Becoming allies for our POC sisters and brothers- the big take away from this pivotal year. Carry on.
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