I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st
I hope my brain still works, when I am sixty-four. :D
ReplyDeleteI'd like to be active in ministry and missions, gentle, vibrant and wise, like the older folk I know and admire, when I am sixty-four. :)
ReplyDeletei really hope i'm not wearing diapers.
ReplyDeleteI hope I'll still be living an abundant and active risk-taking life with God when I'm sixty-four.
ReplyDeleteI hope people will think, "wow, she's incredibly wise for being only fifty," when I'm sixty-four.
ReplyDeletePS: I realize we don't know each other. I'm one of "Kendra from Portland"'s housemates. She shared your blog with us, because, as she said, if you lived here we would totally be friends. So, in an effort to not be a creepy-stalker-blog-reader I am introducing myself. It's nice to officially meet you Beth!
ReplyDeleteteagen! (love the exclamation point).
ReplyDeletewelcome.
enjoy.
comment away!
I hope people think more about Jesus than they do about me after meeting me...
ReplyDelete