Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

 Published in Global Poemic : Easter, 2020   Rough from so many ritualistic washings, twenty seconds each time,                         "I will wash my hands in innocency, so will I compass thine altar, O Lord…" my ripping, winter-soft hands grasp and claw at dead things, intent on scratching some small space for beauty. Brittle leaves,                         “Take off the grave clothes…” splintered grass, wind-blown paper and snow-faded candy wrappers give way. Shifting raised forms into position feels like faith. I find daffodils.

Published with the title, " Yet if I Picture the Face of Jesus"  in The Henniker Review. Heart Burn   I know it to be false               this image    Godhead with flowing blond locks      sad blue eyes, searching   the face should be of a man whom I know is Semitic      I look around no one else seems troubled   it’s not at all like the wan, somber, bearded face of someone who is deeply disappointed         or pained by a loss          I didn’t cause       this face makes little sense in the sense that it’s not historic, but it’s the one I grew up with, framed, burning heart looking like it might burst              that open heart surrounded by flames scared me ...

Published in Sojourn-UT Dallas: That Friday At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. --Matthew 27: 51-52   And when the sky split, and rocks spewed forth with the dead, did the woman hauling water from the well push back her hair and wonder? Or did she continue her work,   not quite sure what the omens told, knowing only that there was dinner to get, children to bathe, and a husband who was late getting home from an execution across town.  

Rain rain rain... Easter blessings or just soggy? That depends, I guess. My daffies are back up out of the snowbank, so I assume they, at the least, are happier. Today is Maundy Thursday, for those of us who observe the Easter Triduum. G and I will go to church tonight after supper. I'll likely watch Good Friday Mass on the livestream, and then we are Holly-watching over the Easter weekend. So, tonight is the only in-person service for me this year. Which is fine, really-- as much as I really hate to miss Easter Sunday Mass in person, we are still being really cautious about being in crowds. So, we will make those adjustments. I am hopeful that next year, we can all go and celebrate together.  That said, there are other, more immediate things to consider, such as taking the ham out of the freezer to thaw, and my Academic Team has a tournament (locally) Saturday morning. Somehow, it all feels so rushed in a way. When I was a kid, we used to have Good Friday off from school. I wish I...

Ah, yes, what do these two things have in common? First two guesses, as my dad always said, don't count.  I'm not making either one up, too. Sunsweet is promoting a prune-infused cold brew beverage (rush the t.p.). And the highlights, if you can call them that, from the courtroom shenanigans perpetrated by the GOP Forerunner's legal team regarding yet another delaying tactic are ridiculous. Rookie crap. Which is not out of the usual, as it seems, but seriously. Total manure-flinging. Snow is melting, which is a good thing. (Just thought I'd toss that in there.) Easter is fast approaching. I'm trying to keep my mind focused on positive things. It's not easy, given the tenor of the news cycle, the collapse of the Key Bridge in Maryland, etc. etc. etc.  I was reading in my little book of contemplative writings yesterday, and I came across a wisdom statement that gave me pause. It said that we can't really successfully pray for peace if we don't have peace i...

I've felt the pressure of time lately; some of it real, much of it existential. I can't seem to mentally or physically catch up, and it's worrying me. I have things I want to do, things I must do, things I can't seem to fit in-- and there are things slipping through my fingers seemingly every single day. That's a lot of things , and I didn't type any specifics. Writing, deadlines, chores, paperwork... all of it. What I want to do is sleep until I wake up fully, without alarms or panic. Or do something-- almost anything-- that fills my brain and heart and soul with peace and beauty.  I should stop doom-scrolling. The weather should improve. Reading the newspaper first thing in the morning only underscores how petty and desperate so many people are, and how very little I can impact any of it. It's daunting. There is a long list of things that upset me, varying from students' parents taking them on mini-vacations in the middle of a school week (like we hav...

Cold start to the day: Five. Degrees. Long night of really odd dreams: Russians (like you see in old movies), alien abductions, and trying to figure out what to do with old jewelry.  Up early: Pellet stove vacuuming at 5:03 a.m.  At least it's not snowing again. Almost two feet of snow later, I'm really over it. The weather forecast is for melting temps, but not truly warm yet. My poor daffies are under that wet and heavy mess. They were starting to swell with buds. I hope they recover.  Today, I'm off to work, then home to hang out with Holly. We had a pretty good day yesterday, but it will take a few weeks for her to get used to Mommy going to work again, I think. We kept busy, which helps, but I'm tired. I fell asleep watching Tournament of Champions on Food TV yet again. I always seem to fall asleep right at the last match-up. I can't make it past 9:30.  I think we'll end up making pink Easter chicks out out of construction paper. Yesterday, it was yellow an...

Well, we will give credit where it's due: the forecasters got this one exactly right. There are still flakes falling, but not insistently. We got (my estimate) about 18 inches of snow. Why Momma Nature decided to give us the winter's-worth all in one event, I have no idea. That all said, today, I have to get to church as I'm the lector. I hope I can. Our plow guy came early, thank goodness, so Meg can get out to get to work. Today is her first day back after the long hiatus of Tim's surgery and initial recovery phase. We will have Holly every Saturday and Sunday and Monday evening. So that shapes what my weekends will be like for the foreseeable future. I also have a small pile of papers to grade, banana bread to make, and likely there's some small chores I have not remembered. And my writing group meets this afternoon at 1:00. So, a busy day ahead. And a busy week. It's Easter Week, and I hope I can make it to church on Thursday evening. If I can't, then th...

Well, I'm not sure we'll get the 8-12 inches of snow predicted, but it's making a pretty good run at it. I'm grateful that my husband's boss told him to stay home and take PTO-- one less worry, right?  So today, we'll color eggs, try to do an egg hunt around the house, and generally keep a small one happy.  Be safe, folks. And hope that the roads are good for tomorrow when I have to read at Palm Sunday Mass! C Tiddly POM!

Finally Friday.  It's been a decent enough week, but I've not been sleeping all that well. I did, however, sleep last night, so that's a blessing. The school budget passed in Lisbon, so we live to work and educate another year. Also a blessing. What's not really a blessing is the prediction of 8-12 inches of snow tomorrow. March is a grumpy month. If you have to go anywhere, rethink it. Sunday is Palm Sunday, one of my favorite Masses to attend. And this year, I am the lector! Although, there is some referred guilt, having to read the "voice" part -- that can be a bit unsettling. But G is going to arrange his schedule so I can participate, because we are on Holly-watching duty. Meg gets to go back to work on Sunday! First time since November! (Another blessing.) I think G and I are going to go out to dinner tonight, because, between softball schedules and work, Meg is going to be a smidgen busy and we won't likely be going out for a while. I don't mind...

Three inches (or more?) of new snow fell quickly last night, and there's a forecast for more. It looks like January outside. I'm waiting to hear the results of the annual school budget meeting in Lisbon, to see whether we can order any books or tissues or whatnot for next year. It's always a breath-holding event-- Lisbon is a very small town, does not have a widely diverse tax base, and the school budget is one thing they can all either support or get mad at. Given the tenor of things, I don't want to assume the budget passed, especially since there are emergency roof repairs underway on the elementary wing. The snow is just a metaphor at this point.  After reading the articles in the newspaper this morning, one talking about water filtration systems at Lakeway elementary and one recapping what needs to be done to move forward with a new elementary school building here in Littleton, I don't feel really hopeful about those things, either. The imbalance of funding is ...

March --and the Lenten season-- are marching along. It's hard to believe that Easter is just a short two weeks or so away. I've spent this time reading, pretty much daily, a small book by Macrina Wiederkehr titled Seven Sacred Pauses . It's lovely, really accessible, and there's enough in each section to get me thinking and, at times, considering my own responses to daily life. It's been good for me to shut the noise down and read this little book. I highly recommend it. I'm also still working my way slowly through The Iliad (no rush, I'm enjoying it). And I have just a little bit more to go in one of the two books of poetry I am going to be writing reviews for. I've never been all that good at balancing several books at once; I usually read fast, then move on to the next one. I'm trying to slow down a lot of things, and this is working well. I have different things I want to read at different times during the day, and that suits me. Reading is givi...

Snow. Yes, we had a quick snow shower yesterday morning, but mostly it left a scrim of what looked like Dippin' Dots. Today, there's actually a covering. Typical March weather, but it's still disheartening. Today is St Joseph's Day, if you follow the liturgical calendar. It's kind of neat; Joseph gets two days, the other being May 1, in his role as St Joseph the Worker.  There is a special Litany for St. Joseph . What's really interesting is the sheer number of epithets assigned to Joseph, everything from his head of family role, to patron of artisans, to terror of demons.  Wow, Terror of Demons. That one surprised me.  It feels really good to have St. Joseph on my side. Have a good day, C

We had a pretty nice weekend, all told, culminating in a really nice family dinner of American-Irish foods. And there are no leftovers, so I will be making something different from what I planned for dinner. Not that I mind: what cook would mind if there is no food left over? Clearly, it was popular. 💚 That said, there *is* a little soda bread left, so you know what I'll be having for breakfast. I don't know why I don't make it all the time-- it's quick, easy, and super tasty. I do not make mine with raisins or caraway seeds, just lots of butter. I'm looking forward to it.  And today starts baseball/softball season at school. And tomorrow is the first day of spring. And of course, the temperatures this week are expected to hover in the 30s. Ah, well. It'll warm up sometime. In the meantime, I have not put my sweaters away.  That all said, I hope you have a good day. I don't feel like ranting on about politics, so we all get a break today. 🙊😝 Take care, C

I have two very favorite Irish poets, both of whom are gone from this earthly sphere, but whose words both challenge me and bring me comfort: I suppose one could call that perspective. The first of them is Galway Kinnell, a poet I was blessed to meet one fine summer day at the Frost Place, and his lecture was astonishing, his reading was awe-inspiring, and the whole thing is firmly embedded in my memory. I have so many favorite poems from his work, but today, I want to share a section of his long series of poems, "When One has Lived a Long Time Alone." This is section 11: When one has lived a long time alone, one wants to live again among men and women, to return to that place where one's ties with the human broke, where the disquiet of death and now also of history glimmers its firelight on faces, where the gaze of the new baby looks past the gaze of the great granny, and where lovers speak, on lips blowsy from kissing, that language the same in each mouth, and like bird...

I woke up this morning, eyes itchy and icky and my lungs feel like there is wet cotton in them. Spring is here. I don't tend to have much trouble with allergies, but the first couple of weeks of tree pollen get me every single time. So, regardless of temperatures, rain, sun, or mud, my eyes and nose and lungs are telling the tale: winter has been given its walking papers. Winter really didn't come, did it? I mean, yes, a little snow, some cold, but I think we only had one or two nights dip below zero, unlike most years when there are stretches of days where the thermometer doesn't achieve more than single digits. There was a year when Meg was small when we had weeks of below zero, six weeks, if memory serves.  Yes, climate change. Even the official science-people from various related disciplines are talking about it, that this is the warmest winter on record for New Hampshire (and for a whole lot of other places). My daffodils are up about three inches already, which is qui...

The funniest thing happened yesterday in Brit Lit (I hope you are not tired of my stories yet): we were getting close to the end of class, and we still had a little bit more to go in Act V of Julius Caesar . I was going to call it a day, finish today, but NO!! "But we have five more minutes--there's only two pages left!" Think they were engaged? 😊 Today, we'll recap the highlights of the play, and they'll choose from my list of preselected speeches and scenes for the "toga party" on Monday. They will practice the chosen bits over the weekend, then bring large bedsheets to class to create their togas-- then, in class on Monday, we'll have our presentations. They don't have to be "off book," but they do need to be well-versed in what they are reading. Any props, gestures, and so on need to be attended to. Then, they'll all join in to re-enact the murder of Caesar. Fun, eh? Today is the Ides of March, so we made it! I'm proud of t...

I'm not going to rant today. I'm not.  What I am going to do is tell you about my Brit Lit class again. They are rocking through Julius Caesar with few hesitations. There are only six students, but among them (and with me included) we are managing the large cast of characters pretty well. I'm really proud of them, actually. They are sophomores-- usually pretty goofy, sometimes serious, and so willing to give this their best effort. I've missed teaching both Brit Lit and sophomores! This is the fourth Shakespeare play in a series that we've worked with, and while that tends to go against what every other dang teacher does, I think it's great. It's also necessary. We watched two and now we've read through two; one common theme among the plays is the nature of leadership, but I don't want to run to the pedantic, at least not that much. I want the kids to enjoy the plays. That's a goal, right? Not everything has to serve a purpose that is entirely d...

We started reading Julius Caesar yesterday in Brit Lit, and it struck me yet again just how prescient Shakespeare was about human nature, and the allure and abuse of power. We read through all of Act I and got to Act II, scene 2, and we had to stop due to the end of class. We are on the brink of the scene where the conspirators flatter Caesar into going to the Senate to meet his doom. The monologue delivered by Brutus in his garden is particularly poignant, and the vitriolic monologue given by Cassius is chilling. Both characters understand power. Brutus sees that, at least in most cases, additional power will often corrupt otherwise good men. And the pure jealousy and hatred in Cassius is almost palpable. Cassius is literally seducing Brutus to be the front man for his murderous enterprise; he has already convinced a few other disgruntled senators to do his bidding, but they need a "face" that people trust, a man so honorable that the extremist ideals of the group will see...

 " It appears as though Trump is deliberately undermining the national security of the United States." --Heather Cox Richardson, March 11 post I've been avoiding digging into the national disaster that the GOP is perpetrating, but here we are. After this past weekend's visit at Mar-a-Lago from one of the most dangerous dictators on the planet (Orban, from Hungary), I'm more convinced than ever that we are now entering a period of time that will be noted in the history books.  IF we are allowed to talk about it. IF we can record it objectively. It's not just about women's rights, or fair pay, or clean air and water. It's not about educational philosophies. We are, I think, at a very scary point: democracy vs. authoritarianism. NO, it won't just go away, and we can't dismiss it as "those crazies over there"-- to ignore the extremism is to allow it to grow like a toxic fungus in the dark.  I don't know how this will end; I'd like...

Ahh, both Monday and winter have returned. Friday was a delightful day, in every respect. The weekend was wet and chilly, but still comfy. This morning it is dark, snowy, and cold. What a living metaphor. Except, I have good ideas about how to help kids write a good Macbeth essay, and my Am Lit kids need to get back into a groove--and with a little nudging, we should be fine. We are working into Transcendentalism, kind of a nodding acquaintance, and they have a midterm project to begin today about New England history. So, at least I have a plan, right? One way to dispel the darkness, at least the metaphor, is to have a clear idea of what you want to do with your day. It will require coffee (dang hour change), but that is something I can rectify. I did not watch the Oscars last night, but I will check in on the chatter about it. I have not been to a movie in a theatre in about two years, so I generally wait until they are streamed. Our movie theatre summarily closed, and it's too mu...

If I had not already committed to reading at church this morning, I'd be sitting right here, keeping warm and dry, with my coffee in the shadows. I hear cars whooshing by, so I guess the roads are just wet, not slickery. We got a mixed slop through the night-- a little snow, a lot of chunky fat drops of rain, a soupcon of wind. I tried to sleep soundly, but for some odd reason, I woke up in the middle of all this, heart pounding and anxious. Who knows why? Not a thing to be worried about. I don't think it was a bad dream-- it was my usual mix of annoyance and so on, but nothing overly stressful. I fell back to sleep, but only after a little bit of sit-up-and-breathe.  I'm not that fey (though sometimes I spook myself a little), so I'm sure it was just something or other in the back of my brain that popped up. Whatever. I'm up now, I have my coffee, and I'm determined to wake up enough to read coherently in front of the doughty collection of church-attendees this...

Yesterday was a really nice day. It started out with G and me being part of the Forty Hours of Adoration at church-- sitting, praying, entirely without conversation or noisy distractions of any sort. We were not the only ones there, but that didn't matter at all. I sat and read and reflected on a book I've had but had not read, one that provides insight and context on the Holy Hours. I assume G was doing his own inward journey, and we didn't discuss it. No need. Each person's prayer life is his own.  I went to work right after, and had a good day with my students. We had fun, got a lot done, and I felt light-hearted throughout. And Meg and family's wayward cat who'd gone on walkabout a week ago returned! We were all worried about him, but he's home safe and hungry for food and affection. Sometimes, what we think is freedom is actually not all that good for us, I guess. At least, if you are a nosy cat.  G and I had an appointment during the afternoon for some...

Quick note today: Engaging more deeply with my faith tradition this morning includes sitting for an hour at church as part of the Forty Hours Adoration that we are doing as a parish community. I've never done that before, and I felt compelled to be a part of it. I have a contemplative book to bring with me, so that will pass the time quietly and productively.  Then, it's off to work. We'll finish Macbeth today, which is good. And then, after work, I have a mani-pedi scheduled for 2pm. I need it-- more for the actual health-type benefits than any vanity. My feet are sore and need the "winter" taken care of, and my cuticles are cracking. Winter is rough on my extremities.  I think I'll head to Stations tonight, too-- I feel a need for connection.  The best part: G is joining me for the church visits and for the pedicure! It'll be unusual and pleasant, I think, to do these things together. We've also planned to watch a movie tonight. Maybe I'll send o...

Something novel happened last evening. G got home from work, and while I washed up dinner dishes, we just started talking about whatever-- actually, that's not quite true, I was telling him how much fun working with my sophomores is, and how we'd worked through the whole first act of Macbeth in an hour, and from there, the conversation just drifted comfortably from topic to topic. We ended up talking til 10pm! Just--talk. No television. We sat companionably, sipping wine and ranging through everything from things we've read or wanted to see (we made a date to watch a movie tomorrow night together), to how we feel about the losses we've sustained over the last ten years, to praying, and so on. It was remarkable. We haven't taken the time to just sit and talk in a long while. Too often, conversations are wedged between other things, and they focus on bills or to-do lists, or small grievances. This was refreshing.  That all said, I slept well last night. I think one r...

Rain rain rain. Buds are swelling on the lilacs.  No crocuses yet but I suspect they are waking up. The question is, is this false spring, with a winter wallop waiting in the wings (wow, check that alliteration!), or will we ease into the next season, wondering what happened?  I'm studiously avoiding reading too much of the national dumpster fire of politics. I'm aggravated that my new dishwasher is acting up. I may have to navigate the Byzantine situation that is calling the people in charge of the warranty. O boy. I'm sorely aggrieved at a whole lot of stupid things, and I don't have a lot of solutions.  Is it the weather? The protracted angst? The sheer exhaustion? (Last night, I couldn't get fully asleep, until about 3am-- yay--) I'll try not to hold my breath and stamp my feet. At least I have coffee. I hope you do, too. C

I'm thinking about writer's block. As in, I have not written much in a while, except these daily missives. I have two poetry books I want/need to be reading and annotating, with reviews to write. I have looked at and rejected several possible journals to send work to-- it feels like too much effort, or they are asking for the kinds of poems I don't have in my "to send out" file. And I don't have any impulse to write new ones at the moment-- I have a few early muddy drafts, but nothing much at all that is compelling me to the page.  Maybe it's because my brain is tired, or busy with school-related stuff, or just stuck. It's not an unusual feeling, but it's troubling, nonetheless. I have things I want to accomplish! Don't I? What I need is an unbroken stretch of time to just sit and read, think, and then, maybe write. I have not carved that out for myself in a long time. Maybe it's the winter doldrums. Maybe it's because we've had a f...