Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself
by Wallace Stevens
At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.
He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.
The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow . . .
It would have been outside.
It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier mâché . . .
The sun was coming from outside.
That scrawny cry—it was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,
Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality.
1. I love the thunderstorms of the South. Nothing can make my heart quicken like these colossal walls of energy bursting at the seams- first in approaching silence and then suddenly when they shout their presence from just above you. The first delicious raindrops are heavy-laden with relief as they reach me and the earth beneath my feet. The lightning bolts fly for trees and other clouds as if they were the webs of the spirits of very great spiders. Not creepy-crawly spiders, but the sleek, shiny ones that weave the beautiful webs in zig-zaggity patterns. Banana spiders, that is what they are called. The art teacher I studied with when I was thirteen 'grew' these spiders in her garden and studio windows for their beautiful yellow selves and elegantly stitched webs, and now I see them leaping from cloud to cloud, weaving their zig-zags across the night sky. I love running back to my house in the air that is charged with the approaching excitement of winds gathering into one great army marching towards my home, rushing all around me.
2. I love sitting in my lawn to read. In my yard I feel that much closer to all the lives that are lived all around me, but not quite lived with me. I wish that the people rushing past on the sidewalk would stop, ask me what I am reading, find out why I love the feel of grass under my feet and the smell of the air. Then I in turn can learn about them, but they never really stop. Sometimes they wave or smile, but for the most part, they just rush on. (For the record, if they had stopped and asked me what I was reading, I would have answered, "'Pride and Prejudice', for the one-millionth time." Then I would have proceeded to explain to them why it is not my favorite Austen and why Mr. Darcy is over-rated, and what the movie versions are really missing, and such.)
3. I miss flying away. I want to get on an airplane and fly through the air, through the very clouds that may later collect into the rainclouds that I love so much. I want to get on a plane filled with strangers and think of why it is that our lives are intersecting at that point and figure out where they are going and why, and eat peanuts and drink apple juice. I want to arrive to friends that are expecting and anticipating my arrival as much as I am anticipating finding their eyes at the gate.
4. I need the Autumn to arrive early this year if ever. I need it to. Really. I think I am the very most alive then. I wait the entire year for it and relish every moment of it when it dances in. Autumn dances, truly, if any season does. It is a slow and lovely dance. Like a last dance, it is the world exerting its every last effort at being alive and beautiful before the ever so distant Spring.
5. I wish that more things in my life were settled. I am still in limbo concerning the next stage of my life, but I suppose I can wait. I am trying to delight in this time of my life and the potential that it holds. Life is a delight. It is like starlight and winds and wild blackberries and luna moths and honeysuckles, but it is also just as surprising and unexpected as these things. I just have to wait for it to surprise me and love it even when it does not. I must learn to relish the everyday just a bit more and see the gifts that exist in even the most mundane of days and nights.
And with that I leave you. Happy Wednesday.
No comments:
Post a Comment