“Be gentle.
Rest often.
Soften,
soften,
soften.”
—Chani Nicholas
Soften is one of
my chosen words of the year. I didn’t expect it to be this essential.
Lost in the frenzy of coping with the Covid-19 situation is the fact that April is National Poetry Month in the United States. Several times on Catching Happiness, I’ve posted about incorporating poetry into one’s life in simple, non-intimidating ways. (See “It’s National Poetry Month—No Foolin’” or “10 Ways to Celebrate National Poetry Month.”)
In fact, now seems like an excellent time to return to
reading poetry. I find it calming and soothing—and slowing down is necessary in
order to fully appreciate the layers of meaning in many poems. In particular,
I’ve been meaning to revisit some of Robert Frost’s poetry after visiting one of his homes in September of 2019.
In the meantime, here’s a poem, courtesy of
americanlifeinpoetry.org, to remind us that even in the face of “interesting times,” some rituals remain.
Introduction by Ted Kooser: That sage curse, “May you
live in interesting times,” has been upon us for the past few years, but here a
Kentucky poet, Jonathan Greene, offers us some reassurance that there is order
in the world. Greene has a special talent for, and love of, short poems, and
this is a good example of his work. This poem is from his most recent book, Afloat,
published by Broadstone Books.
The Return
We are heartened
when each year
the barn swallows
return.
They find their old nests,
teach their young to fly,
lining up on the barn roof
for their first flight.
They remind us,
for now, some rituals
of this good earth
continue.
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 ©2018 by Jonathan Greene, “The Return,” from Afloat,
(Broadstone Books, 2019). Poem reprinted by permission of Jonathan Greene and
the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2020 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. We do not
accept unsolicited manuscripts.
 |
| A little bit of spring from California a couple of years ago |
Life continues to feel surreal. Most of us are down to
visiting the grocery store and staring at our own four walls. My big outing of
the week is a trip to the barn to take care of Tank. If I happen to run into
anyone, we stand at least six feet away from each other and shout pleasantries.
Weird.
Nearly everyone I know and the
majority of the people I follow on social media or the Internet is relentlessly
trying to remain positive and encouraging, and I could not be more grateful. My
mother-in-law sent the whole family an email with only these words:
THIS WILL BE OVER
AND
WE WILL BE THE BETTER FOR IT.
I have no idea what life will be
like once this is “over.” Will it ever be over? Did someone hit a reset
button somewhere?
I’ve been too tired and distracted to do much of anything,
and even my reading has suffered. I don’t have a lot of work deadlines right
now, but I do have personal writing projects I’d like to pursue, and I can’t
seem to motivate myself to do them. I’ve tried breaking them down into smaller
and smaller bits, but so far haven’t found a small enough bit to accomplish.
But today is the start of a new week, a week in which I
will continue to enjoy simple pleasures and maybe even an everyday adventure or
two—for example, I need to pick up a few items at the grocery store today—wish
me luck! I will try again to be more productive with my time, whether I
use it to clean up a mess (have you noticed the Persistence of Messes even in
times of pandemic?), or to write a haiku, or to otherwise play around with
words hoping to find the magic combination that resonates in my mind as being
something I want to share.
I will read books from my unread shelf, and library books
that have been stranded with me. I will take Luna for walks, and brush Prudy.
Tank is scheduled to have his yearly vaccines this week. I will make dinner,
and do laundry, and otherwise keep our home a place of safety and comfort. My
husband’s business is considered essential, so he is still going to his office,
though it is closed to the public and only one other employee is working there
with him (the rest are working from home).
I will take it one day at a time. Life goes on, even in
these strange days.
And how are you doing?
While avoiding too much news, I have found some solace
online. Here are some links you might find inspiring or helpful:
If you have extra time on your hands, you could do worse
than joining Yale University’s “The Science of Well Being” course, available
free through Coursera.
“Pandemic Positivity” downloads from Positively Present.
I’m partway through watching this TED Connects video with
Elizabeth Gilbert.
And finally, I leave you with this, the best thing I’ve seen
online all week (thanks for sharing, Kerri):
“Chasing petty happiness pushes greater
happiness out of reach.”
— Gretchen Rubin
 |
| Seen on my walk this morning |
“We either make ourselves miserable or we make
ourselves strong.
The amount of work is the same.”
The amount of work is the same.”
― Carlos Castaneda
