Be Wild

I’m listening to May Erlewine’s newly released album “Mother Lion.” It’s amazing. I could listen to it over and over again.

“I want the dawn to break me open.
I want to breathe and be unbroken.
I want it to take a while.
I want to be wild.”

I love how May sings through the contradictions and vulnerabilities that we live with every day. Thank you for putting your music into the world, May.

Watercolors

Impromptu painting
this afternoon at the table —
the table around which so much centers:
family meals, conversations,
stories, questions, projects, colors, abundance . . .
Our couch may be tattered
and our table may be worn,
but we are here living together
with our hearts open
and our eyes filled with wonder.

Book Stack

“Words make worlds.” — Krista Tippett

On my desk this week: Moby Dick (by Herman Melville), Workshops Work (by Patricia Zaballos), The Poetry Handbook (by Mary Oliver), The One-Straw Revolution (by Masanobu Fukuoka), Becoming Wise (by Krista Tippett, and Project-Based Homeschooling (by Lori Pickert). I’m reading bits and pieces of all of them — because that is how my reading happens right now: in little snippets of time in the midst of very full days.

I might be hiding upstairs in my room right now, taking one of these mini reading breaks . . .

Morning Bubbles

Oh, so patient with him.
Even when he wants it over
and over
and over again.
Even when he grabs onto her hand
and pulls her off of the piano bench,
and over to the couch,
or the bookshelf,
or the kitchen.

Talking to her,
listening to her.
Talking back.
Repeating words,
sounds.

Wanting, so much,
to enter into the constant conversation
of this family
around him.

Close In

Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.
Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.
Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people’s questions,
don’t let them
smother something
simple.
Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own. — David Whyte

This beautiful poem has been on my mind this week. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded to start close in.

Spring Beauties

I dream of a quiet man
who explains nothing and defends
nothing, but only knows
where the rarest wild flowers
are blooming, and who goes,
and finds that he is smiling
not by his own will.

— Wendell Berry
“Given: Poems,” Shoemaker & Hoard, 2005