"Clock"
Sometimes it really upsets me --
the way the clock's hands keep moving,
even when I'm just sitting here
not doing anything at all,
not even thinking about anything
except, right now, about the clock
and how it can't keep its hands still.
Even in the dark I picture it, and all
its brother and sister clocks and watches,
even sundials, all those compulsive timepieces
whose only purpose seems to be
to hurry me out of this world.
~Linda Pastan
Speaking of being hurried out of this world: today is Soren Kierkegaard's birthday (1813-1855). On a bookshelf behind my chair sits a framed quote (I like to think of it as my prayer) by this Danish philosopher and theologian. I've included it in a previous post, probably two years ago now, but I'm re-posting it today not only as a way to honor him, but also to remind myself to pray for this daily and to live it more effectively:
"As my prayer became more and more attentive and inward, I had less and less to say. I finally became completely silent.... This is how it is. To pray does not mean to listen to oneself speaking. Prayer involves becoming silent, and being silent, and waiting until God is heard." ~ Soren Kierkegaard
Both images are paintings by van Gogh.
If interested in Kierkegaard, here's a good site: plato.stanford.edu/entries/Kierkegaard
Yes! Let's pretend all is well with the world. You remind me I need to get out and do planting #2 of my beets and carrots. I'd planned that for this afternoon but took a nap instead.
ReplyDeleteSometimes, a nap is what is needed. It's cool here, but the perfect time to get those things in the ground. I'm thinking the moon might help them along.
DeleteLast night I stood outside and stared at the moon. I felt like the world was standing still as I could discern no movement from it. Perhaps it is better to watch the moon than the hands on a clock. good post -- barbara
ReplyDeleteFar better, Barbara. It tells me all I need to know about "time." Thanks.
DeleteA thought-provoking post, Teresa. Love the Kierkegaard prayer. I remember reading an essay on prayer by W.H. Auden many years ago. Like Kierkegaard, Auden said that the essence of prayer is listening, not speaking.
ReplyDeleteIt's perhaps the most important thing I've learned in recent years. I will look up the Auden essay. It sounds like a good addition to this idea. Thanks, George.
DeleteI feel the same way: watered the garden, weeded a bit, and now sit here on the computer reading what I have been missing all week long when I can't get to read much because of the baby sitting. But, I will go outside and look at that moon. I hear it is going to be spectacular!
ReplyDeleteWe had gray skies here, so the moon came up and I was unable to see it. I could easily imagine, though, how spectacular it was.
DeleteHej Teresa, thank you for honoring good old Søren. I'm always so grateful when someone remembers Kirkegaard and Andersen. Not many Danes are known.
ReplyDeleteThe poem about the clock is good, it really hits me hard, because I am that old. I hate how time flies, the clock just keeps running and soon I'm thrown out from this world. and I love so much to be here. It's not fair! It's necesssary to enjoy the precious NOW. Well, Teresa, down to something else.
How is your poor back after all that work ? Are you worn out and your muscles stiff like iron wires? I don't have a garden anymore, but I remember how palsied (is this the right word?) I was after having done garden work.
I'm sure you understand if I say that these words from SK were often my daily problems:
It is so hard to believe because it is so hard to obey. (Søren Kirkegaard)
Take care of your muscles.Japanese peppermint oil!!
Cheers
Grethe `)
Yes, Grethe, Now is all there is and it's a pretty wonderful now from where I am and I can tell by your photos and descriptions it is for you also.
DeletePalsied sounds pretty darn close. I was having fun and so involved in my mind that I didn't remember how it can wreak havoc with the body. Japanese peppermint oil. I will keep my eyes open for that. Might come in very handy. Ouch. :)
I completely understand the quote from Kierkegaard. So very true.
I hope you're having a good day, with Many more to come.
Yet another beautiful post from you! I love the Kierkegaard quote. And I'm glad you have your potatoes planted. :)
ReplyDeletepeace
Thank you, Bill. The weather has been so gloomy I had trouble breaking through it to get started, but now that I have it feels good. The quote has been a favorite for several years. I've come to see it as a form of prayer for me, to ask for and practice that stillness that allows me to become better at Listening.
DeleteThe Kierkegaard quote is a perfect guide to meditation. Emptying my mind and becoming silent. Nothing is as refreshing as time spent there. And it is amazing to me how the clock actually keeps on going while I am sitting. Thank you for this lovely post, Teresa. I hope you are doing well.
ReplyDeleteAs I sit quietly and as I go about my day, I try to silence the unnecessary chatter inside my head and out in the world so I can hear the divine ideas that are always present. I want to get a lot better at being quiet and listening.
DeleteThanks, Jan. I'm tired, with a few muscles that are reminding me they're here, but very well. It's a good kind of tired.
Thanks for that - a wonderful reminder. AND, thanks for growing potatoes! Yummy, yummy potatoes!
ReplyDeleteHey, t. Thanks for stopping by. I've been such a slug about commenting (is that a gardening pun?). I will remedy that. I'm afraid I like potatoes in an almost unsavory way. I think I should stop now. :)
DeleteWe all worry too much about "saying the right words".The words dont matter, the real importance is the silence inbetween them...........
ReplyDeleteThank you for this, tony. I was just thinking about this very thing.... :)
DeleteYukon Golds and Red Pontiacs are my two favorite kinds of potato except for baking, of course. Then I opt for Russets. To segue into the topic of prayer--imagine how those poor folks afflicted by the potato famine in Ireland must have prayed as their children starved to death! I'm not sure what my point is, but I often feel that praying is a sort of meditation that travels no farther than one's own head. Sigh...
ReplyDeleteThat's not too much of a segue.. :) Prayer can be whatever you want it to be. I don't believe anyone's keeping score, nor is anyone judging one's preferences for how we express ourselves spiritually. I pray for understanding and a still mind because I believe there's a benevolent force, some might call it energy, that governs the universe, despite all human evidence to the contrary, and I have to align myself and my thinking with it in order to experience it.
DeleteI'd never heard of Linda Pastan but I like her poem - it connects with me, too.
ReplyDeleteI find the contrast between Van Goghs early paintings and later ones absolutely fascinating - I keep wondering how it felt to him to change so much.
Hi Jenny, Perhaps that's one of the aspects of putting oneself out there in the public as an artist - the changes one goes through as a person are there for all to see, reflected in the work. Some of his work is so dark and others so filled with light. They certainly allow us to see him more fully.
DeleteA wonderful poem, Teresa, but the prayer seemed to be written especially for me right now. Sometimes, I pray to just have a still and listening heart amid all the comings and goings of life.
ReplyDeleteThe clouds suddenly parted last night to let the moon shine upon us. I took it as a gift.
Hi Penny, I'm always glad and grateful when what speaks to me, speaks to others, also. It isn't always easy to keep our minds still, but it sure makes life better.
DeleteIt was cloudy here, but I'm so happy to hear of your gift of parted clouds.
Planting potatoes and meditating on a Kierkegaard thought constitutes a very good day!
ReplyDeleteIt certainly does. Thanks!
DeleteI hope you have better luck with your potatoes than I did. After a season under ground mine came out smaller than when they were put in : a kind of reverse horticulture.
ReplyDeleteI hope so, too, Alan. Yesterday was onions and sugar snap peas, today parsnips.
DeleteReverse horticulture... :)
Thanks once again for sharing such beautiful words. Yours and those who inspire you.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I loved reading about your dance with the moon. That was inspiring!
DeleteI can't tell you how meaningful the words...to become silent. Sometimes I hear myself talking and I think, "shut up." Silence is sooo illuminating and I know that is why I'm moving to the country again. You are welcome to visit. I used to drive from Mpls to Bozeman regularly.
ReplyDeleteI need a greenhouse because we don't have the rich, black dirt that you have in MN.
I often think the same thing when I hear myself talking. I'm fortunate to have more silence than many do, but it only makes me long for more...:)
DeleteThanks for the invite. What a nice trip that would be. I will keep it in mind.
Plus a greenhouse extends the growing season. I have an old one that needs a lot of refurbishing, but it's on my long-term to-do list. I am grateful for the black dirt here.
Good to hear from you!
Planting potatoes is a great spring ritual! I can't imagine anything more satisfying or productive than growing your own food.
ReplyDeleteSomehow I'm comforted by the passing of time. It's like making room for something else. And if you think like I do time is not linear in any fashion, this is only our perception. The past, present, and future are all parallel universes that exist simultaneously!
I'm loving my time in the garden. I'm hoping to put up some for the fall and winter. My basement is perfect for storing some things. It's all a matter of learning what works, what doesn't, and enjoying the process.
DeleteI have the same sense of time. My thoughts echo yours. When I've had glimpses into this, I've found it comforting and yet intriguing. It's all about perception.
Thank you, Bill. I love your story of the trout and the bull. Such a quintessential childhood story, well-told.
Dear Teresa, . . . first, let me thank you for your explanation of Lonewolf in your response to my comment last week. It so fits with what you are saying here about silence. I see you planting those potato eyes in the mounds of rich, dark Minnesota soil and then standing up, pressing a hand to your back and arcing it to get out the kinks, and then looking around you and being suddenly still and silent before the lonewolf of being.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the words by Kierkegaard. I think I've lost my silence in prayer and that I mostly jangle. I need this reminder.
Peace.
Thank you for commenting, Dee. I always enjoy hearing from you. Lonewolf: yes, it does seem to evoke a silence for which I'm deeply appreciative.
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