“They say the movies should be more like life—I think life should be more like the movies.”

—Myrna Loy

Which movie(s) would you like your life to be more like?

When I was a child visiting my grandparents for the summer, my grandmother often insisted that I take an afternoon nap. I detested this practice because I didn’t need a nap: I was far too busy running through the cow pasture or swimming in the irrigation ditch or lying under a tree reading to take a nap. Plus I was far to old to be taking naps! What was wrong with her?! (I realize now she likely needed a break from me and the nap was her tactful way of corralling me for at least an hour. And yes, much to my chagrin, I often fell asleep while lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.)

Naps are wasted on the young. I don’t know about you, but there are many days I’d love to have the simple pleasure of an afternoon nap! Occasionally, I do take one, but I live with pets who have no compunction about sleeping whenever and wherever they want to. Need proof?

Perhaps we should follow their example and indulge ourselves in an afternoon nap now and then this summer!

Photo courtesy Ryan McGuire

Introduction by Ted Kooser: I’m especially fond of sparklers because they were among the very few fireworks we could obtain in Iowa when I was a boy. And also because in 2004 we set off the fire alarm system at the Willard Hotel in Washington by lighting a few to celebrate my inauguration as poet laureate. Here’s Barbara Crooker, of Pennsylvania, also looking back.

Sparklers

We’re writing our names with sizzles of light

to celebrate the fourth. I use the loops of cursive,

make a big B like the sloping hills on the west side

of the lake. The rest, little a, r, one small b,

spit and fizz as they scratch the night. On the side

of the shack where we bought them, a handmade sign:

Trailer Full of Sparkles Ahead, and I imagine crazy

chrysanthemums, wheels of fire, glitter bouncing

off metal walls. Here, we keep tracing in tiny

pyrotechnics the letters we were given at birth,

branding them on the air. And though my mother’s

name has been erased now, I write it, too:

a big swooping I, a hissing s, an a that sighs

like her last breath, and then I ring

belle, belle, belle in the sulphuric smoky dark.

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. Poem copyright ©2013 by Barbara Crooker from her most recent book of poems, Gold, Cascade Books, 2013. Poem reprinted by permission of Barbara Crooker and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2014 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.

Do you ever have words or phrases pop into your head, seemingly from nowhere? I do—I had it happen to me this weekend, in fact. I’ve been working really hard the past couple of weeks, on both writing projects and around the house, and even though I was happy with what I’d accomplished, I was feeling a bit tired out. My mother-in-law was coming to spend the night with us, and I was looking forward to a three-day weekend. But sometimes it’s hard to switch from all-out work mode to relaxation mode. Fortunately, my subconscious kicked in with these words:

“This is your one, beautiful life. Enjoy it.”

So instead of fussing and over-working this weekend, I relaxed with my family. We sat on the lanai and floated in the pool. I made cinnamon waffles for breakfast and we ate ice cream while watching Independence Day on TV. Yesterday I slept in until 8 a.m.—almost unheard of because usually my pets wake me up long before that. Before I did anything, I asked myself, “What do you feel like doing now?” (Not “What should you be doing now?” “Should” was banished, at least for the weekend.)

Even though it’s Monday and time to get back to work, I’m going to continue to hold those words in my heart: “This is your one, beautiful life. Enjoy it.” Even while I’m cleaning bathrooms, or feeding the dog, or writing an article. This is my one, beautiful life.

“Experience has taught me that the way to a joyful life is always fraught with fear, that to find it you must follow your heart’s desires right through the inevitable terrors that arise to hold you back. If you don’t do this, your life will be shaped by fear, rather than love, and I guarantee, the shape will be narrow and tiny compared with your best destiny.”

—Martha Beck, The Joy Diet