Elizabeth Bishop, one of our greatest American poets, once wrote a long poem in which the sudden appearance of a moose on a highway creates a community among a group of strangers on a bus. Here Ronald Wallace, a Wisconsin poet, gives us a sighting with similar results. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Sustenance 

Australia. Phillip Island. The Tasman Sea.

Dusk. The craggy coastline at low tide in fog.

Two thousand tourists milling in the stands

as one by one, and then in groups, the fairy penguins

mass up on the sand like so much sea wrack and

debris. And then, as on command, the improbable

parade begins: all day they've been out fishing

for their chicks, and now, somehow, they find them

squawking in their burrows in the dunes, one by one,

two by two, such comical solemnity, as wobbling by

they catch our eager eyes until we're squawking, too,

in English, French, and Japanese, Yiddish and Swahili,

like some happy wedding party brought to tears   

by whatever in the ceremony repairs the rifts

between us. The rain stops. The fog lifts. Stars.

And we go home, less hungry, satisfied, to friends

and family, regurgitating all we've heard and seen.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. "Sustenance" from For A Limited Time Only, by Ronald Wallace, © 2008. Used by permission of the University of Pittsburgh Press. The poem first appeared in Poetry Northwest, Vol. 41, no. 4, 2001. Introduction copyright © 2013 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006.

My 2013 reading challenges are off to a good start. I’ve already read six books (out of 24) from my To Be Read (TBR) pile and two books for the Vintage Mystery Challenge (out of eight), with a third in progress. Having to wait around in the jury duty pool in early January wasn’t all bad! (For a complete list of books I've read for the challenges, click here. I update the list every time I finish a book, and it can always be found by scrolling down the sidebar at right.)

I haven’t been adventurous at all with this year’s reading challenges. I do need to do the TBR challenge if I don’t want to be entirely overrun by books and the Vintage Mystery Challenge isn’t so much a challenge as a way to discover new authors in my favorite genre. Next time I should choose a challenge that really is a challenge, perhaps? I don’t know. Reading is such a pleasure and relaxation for me, I hesitate to turn it into a true “challenge.” I have enough of those in my life. Perhaps instead of more challenging challenges, I might participate in the various read-alongs I hear about that don’t last a whole year?

But enough about why my challenges aren’t really challenges—let’s talk about books.

The first book I read this year was from my TBR pile: The Greenhouse by Audur Ava Olafsdottir, originally written in Icelandic and translated by Brian FitzGibbon. The Greenhouse follows Arnljotur, known as Lobbi, a young man from Iceland, who leaves his home, father and autistic twin brother, to restore an old garden in a remote village monastery in an unnamed country in Europe. Lobbi’s mother, with whom he shared a love of gardening, has recently died in a car accident.  On top of that, during one impulsive night, Lobbi has fathered a child with Anna, an acquaintance. Anna is raising their baby daughter, Flora Sol, without much input from Lobbi, who doesn’t really know what his role with Anna and Flora Sol should be—though he’s more clueless than unwilling. After he begins work on the monastery garden, Anna and Flora Sol come to visit. Anna wants to continue her studies and needs Lobbi’s help to care for the baby. During their time together, Anna and Lobbi begin to build a relationship, and Lobbi slowly learns how to nurture the people in his life as tenderly as he nurtures the flowers in the garden. I loved this book. It was a quiet and gentle story, with interesting secondary characters, such as Lobbi's father and the film-buff monk Father Thomas. It was a page-turner in the respect that I enjoyed that world so much I could hardly wait to get back to it.

My first Vintage Mystery read was Georgette Heyer’s Why Shoot a Butler? In a twist on a murder mystery cliche, a butler is the first victim. Amateur sleuth Frank Amberley must help the baffled police find the murderer before they arrest the young woman Frank is falling in love with. Reading this type of cozy mystery feels like slipping under a fuzzy blanket with a good cup of tea (I always crave Earl Grey tea when reading books or watching movies set in England). I love Georgette Heyer’s historical novels, which she’s better know for, but the few mysteries she wrote also contain her trademark wit and humor. I plan to read at least one more of her books before the challenge is done. I love the covers of these editions as well—wonderful vintage artwork.

By the time you read this, I’ll be in Texas catching up with a few girlfriends I used to work with, as well as my roommate before I got married, and maybe even my old boss. If you hear a lot of laughing and carrying on coming from the general vicinity of Dallas, that’s us. In addition to the talking, laughing and eating I expect to do, I should have some good reading time on the flights to and from. So please excuse me while I go choose what to take with me—my clothes are already packed, but the books…that takes me longer to decide…

What did you do this weekend?

Don’t you just love the internet? I do. It’s full of fun, interesting, educational and inspiring information (of course, it’s full of a whole lot of junk, too—I do my best to ignore that). I don’t know how I’d procrastinate without it.

Here are some links for you to explore that I’ve found interesting or entertaining and that I want to share with you. Happy Friday, and enjoy!

Visit Inspiration Peak for thought-provoking quotes, poems and stories.

Request a daily “Pause for Beauty” email from Heron Dance by clicking here. A Pause for Beauty is a daily e-journal, and each morning email contains a nature painting and a reflection or poem.

I really enjoyed this post from Dani at Positively Present. (Her whole blog is packed with good stuff.)

Need some help compiling a Life List (more cheerful than a Bucket List, don’t you think?)? Visit Go Mighty. Read others’ Life Lists, see how they progress with their goals, and if the spirit moves you, request an invitation to become part of Go Mighty, “a place to outline your goals and dreams, track your progress toward checking them off, and find inspiration to challenge your personal status quo.”

Watch this video by Brendan Burchard. He notes that the very things that make us happiest are often the very things that cause us discomfort. 

If you like looking at beautifully soothing and peaceful photographs, click on over to The Murmuring Cottage.  I secretly fantasize that I live in that world of cups of tea, drying herbs, embroidery and sketching, cozy fires, sleeping kitties…you get the idea.

 “You don't have to go looking for love when it's

where you come from.”—Werner Erhard

Abject and overwhelming terror.

You see, I’ve just removed my last significant excuse for not spending the time I said I wanted to spend writing. My files and books and computer are neatly arranged at my fingertips. I can close my door, play music, gaze up at all the little talismans I keep for inspiration. I can spread papers all over the desk, all over the floor, even. I can burn the scented candle my husband doesn’t like. There’s no one to bother if I want to go in there to write at 8 a.m. or 2 p.m. or midnight.

What this new division of offices suggests is respect for and acknowledgment that I am working, not playing. But with that respect and acknowledgement comes pressure. Now that I’ve lost my “I have nowhere to work” excuse, I’d better start producing. What does producing look like? Is it pages done? Money earned? A skill honed or a connection made? How will I know I’m productive?

Instead of steadily tapping away at the keyboard, I look in my idea file and have a sudden urge to clean the kitchen ceiling fan. I take out my notebook and pen and stare out the window. I pull out a piece already in progress, hate its guts, and want to chuck it. It’s so hard. Why is it so hard?! I love the feeling of words flowing through me, when my pen lags behind the words spilling out, and my fingers curl into a cramp.

What I’m truly afraid of is: there is nothing inside. There are no words. And if a few dribble onto the page, they will be of absolutely no interest to anyone else. I read writers I admire and cringe at my own awkward prose.

Not long ago, I read a fantastic book called The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield. Now I turn back to its pages for advice. Pressfield writes, “Are you paralyzed by fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do….Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that the enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul. That’s why we feel so much Resistance. If it meant nothing to us, there’d be no Resistance.”

Resistance and fear, huh? Check and check. So what do I do? Pressfield’s solution to Fear/Resistance is “turning pro.” Turning pro means you are now a professional as opposed to an amateur. A professional focuses on the work and its demands. “Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying. Why is this so important? Because when we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set into motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid. Unseen forces enlist in our cause; serendipity reinforces our purpose.”

“Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying.”

I can do that. I can practice butt-in-chair using the kitchen timer if necessary. Filling pages with nonsense, if necessary. The only way to overcome the terror of writing is.to.write. Even if it’s morning pages, or a journal entry, or a description of the wren hunting bugs in the shrubs outside my window. I can do that.

Do you ever experience this type of fear/resistance when you want to create something? (Please tell me I’m not alone!) How do you overcome it?