Wednesday, July 30, 2014

For My Fellow Searchers

Once in a while I find something on another blog that I cannot help but steal. Thus it is with this poem. It encapsulates so much of how I feel about my own life. Perhaps you will find yourself here, as well:


Some people do not have to search -
they find their niche early in life and rest there,
seemingly contented and resigned.
They do not seem to ask much of life,
sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously.
At times I envy them, but usually I do not understand them -
seldom do they understand me.

I am one of the searchers.
There are, I believe, millions of us.
We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content.
We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret.
We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand.

We like to walk along the beach – we are drawn by the ocean,
taken by its power, its unceasing motion,
its mystery and unspeakable beauty.
We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers,
and the lonely cities as well.

Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter.
To share our sadness with the one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know -
unless it is to share our laughter.

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself,
for everything beautiful it can provide.
Most of all we want to love and be loved.
We want to live in a relationship that will not impede
our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls.

We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.
We are wanderers, dreamers and lovers,
lonely souls who dare ask of life everything good and beautiful.

~ James Kavanaugh

I found this wonderful poem here:


Sunday, July 27, 2014

From Gary Snyder: Learn the Flowers

Some of you may recall my crush on the poet, Gary Snyder. His gentleness comes through every word he writes. You can find my previous posts that mention him linked at the bottom of this one. Some of you may also have read this poem earlier today. The Writer's Almanac, continues to deliver some fine poems. It's a good way to start the day, like a prayer for myself and for the world. From a book of poems by Gary Snyder, published in 1974 ...

"For the Children"

The rising hills, the slopes,
of statistics
lie before us,
the steep climb
of everything, going up,
up, as we all
go down.

In the next century
or the one beyond that,
they say,
are valleys, pastures,
we can meet there in peace
if we make it.

To climb these coming crests
one word to you, to
you and your children:

stay together
learn the flowers
go light

~ Gary Snyder, Turtle Island. © New Directions, 1974.

The photograph of wild mountain hollyhocks by Montucky:

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

This Shining World

What does the world
mean to you if you can’t trust it
to go on shining when you’re

not there?

Look, I want to love this world
as though it’s the last chance I’m ever going to get
to be alive
and know it.

One morning
the fox came down the hill, glittering and confident,
and didn’t see me—and I thought:

so this is the world.
I’m not in it.
It is beautiful.

~ Mary Oliver, excerpts from, October 

The photographs are mine.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

She Lived In An Old Black Van

Yesterday, the public radio station, KAXE, featured my poem, "Yellow Pears," on their morning program, The Beat. I'm sharing it here, as I have with the others, and the link to the original posting of the poem:

It's one of my favorite childhood memories.

My reading:

Image: Cristal Reza

Thursday, July 10, 2014


I love how the universe mirrors our thoughts back to us. At least, I think that's how it works. It sure seems to. For example: a few years ago, shortly after I returned to Minnesota, I was staying at a friend's house near Duluth. Driving into town one day, a song by Tom T. Hall came on the radio, "That's How I Got to Memphis," one of my favorite classic country songs. I hadn't heard it in years. As the song ended, I got a message on my phone from one of my son's old friends. She'd just had her first child. His name? Memphis.

A few folks have done versions of this song, including Bobby Bare, whose version I very much like. But, it belongs to Tom, the man who wrote it. I've always loved the feel of it, as they say ...

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Rhubarb Summers

I'm not sure what I can say to convince you to read this article by Garrison Keillor, published in the National Geographic. Maybe you're already a fan and it won't take convincing. Maybe you've always felt you wouldn't find much in common with him, but I would beg to differ. This story, of his life growing up in Minnesota, is really Everyone's story. It doesn't matter if you grew up in the country, the city, or the suburbs, as did my friend, JB, who sent the original article to me via real mail (a letter in the mailbox! Oh happy day!).

Anyway, I loved every sentence of this beautiful piece of writing. It reminded me why I returned to Minnesota, my home state. My answer is the same as his. You'll find it here, right up to the last sentence:

 Photograph by Erika Larsen

Monday, July 7, 2014

Shirley, Visions of Reality, and the World of Edward Hopper

Tony, over at Wolves in the City, posted this trailer. I couldn't resist stealing it for a repost. As you might know, if you've been a reader of my blog for any length of time, I am a huge fan of Edward Hopper's work. I've posted more than once on this infatuation of mine. Austrian filmmaker, Gustav Deutsch, has brought thirteen of his paintings to "life" and created a film titled,  "Shirley: Visions of Reality." When I saw the trailer at Tony's place, I had mixed feelings. The original work by Hopper is so startling and intriguing I wasn't sure how I would feel about viewing a version of them in this format. I'm still not sure, but I do intend to do so when available. I need to remember to keep my mind open to all the possibilities. I hope you'll let me know what you think ...

Tony's blog is a very interesting, often hard-hitting, mix of news you won't find in mainstream media. He also includes art, music, poetry, and other bits of life. He has, more than once, introduced an artist to me through his posting of a particular piece. Many of his interests dovetail with my own and I'm glad for his discoveries from which I benefit. He hails from Scotland. You can find him here:

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Remembering Faron

I rarely re-post anything, but my micropoetry this morning brought one to mind and so I've decided to do so via a link. I guess it won't hurt to put a Christmas post smack dab in the middle of summer. I hope you'll click on the link and read, or reread:
I'll Be Home For Christmas, But Not With Faron Young

Here's my poem that brought this to mind: