Friday, December 28, 2012

To be an expert at something


Reach up
constantly, like the arms of pines.

Let light project itself
through your fingers.

And when you fall
(fall you will)

make falling a thing of beauty
like snow

restful on air,
to the storm surrendered

Then not stopping
where it lands, but rising up, 

creating of that tree
something new of its very own.

12 comments:

  1. This is a fabulous poem, Ruth, and it's a perfect invitation to the new year—this call to "reach up constantly," to "let light project itself" through our fingers, and "to make falling a thing of beauty like snow." Your words make my day.

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    1. Thanks so much, George. I feel a surging sense of hope and love. Whether it's a new age dawning, or a momentary shift, I want to choose it daily. Henry Miller must have still been inspiring me after I posted this yesterday at "small":

      "The art of living is based on rhythm — on give and take, ebb and flow, light and dark, life and death. By acceptance of all aspects of life, good and bad, right and wrong, yours and mine, the static, defensive life, which is what most people are cursed with, is converted into a dance, ‘the dance of life,’ metamorphosis. One can dance to sorrow or to joy; one can even dance abstractly. … But the point is that, by the mere act of dancing, the elements which compose it are transformed; the dance is an end in itself, just like life. The acceptance of the situation, any situation, brings about a flow, a rhythmic impulse towards self-expression. To relax is, of course, the first thing a dancer has to learn. It is also the first thing a patient has to learn when he confronts the analyst. It is the first thing any one has to learn in order to live. It is extremely difficult, because it means surrender, full surrender."

      Let's keep on moving, my friend, in this thrilling dance.

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  2. What a lovely poem, Ruth. It contains both restful silence and movement.

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    1. Thanks, Maureen, for reading and for that observation.

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  3. Yes, I said, at every line.
    Yes, yes, yes, at the end, when something new is afoot.

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    1. Thank you, Rosaria. May our yeses meet and create something new. xo

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  4. Love this one. Sensing a large dose of hope within it.

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    1. Thanks for reading and loving it, Wayne. This large dose of hope is a bit magical: I don't know where it comes from, but it's powerful.

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  5. Such wise words of poetic good advice. It's never how we fall - is it? It's always how we pick ourselves back up. Best wishes to you and yours for this up and coming new year!

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  6. "make falling a thing of beauty..." love it. Reminds me of a line I once read, "we can't stop from growing old, but we can grow old gracefully." Thanks Ruth for the inspiration, and another year of poetry and sharing. I look forward to more of your poetic thoughts in 2013. To you and yours, a Happy New Year!

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  7. Oh, yes! I echo Rosaria. Such wisdom in these lines, such peace. Thank you.
    When my tree (pose) falls, I shall try to make it like snow [that center perfect]...

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  8. "...not stopping
    where it lands, but rising up..." I suddenly want to be lost in a blizzard that wreaks no havoc but makes me bow in the hallowed spot where I first fell!

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All responses are welcome.