Tonight I completed my #MHFA certification. I’d wanted to do the course for many years but was always held back by the fear that it would feel too raw. I’m glad I finally braved up, and would recommend it to anyone. I went to classes for a month, and in that time the course covers both crisis and non-emergency situations for depression, anxiety, mood disorders, psychosis and schizophrenia, trauma, eating disorders, and substance abuse, and you complete role play scenarios for most cases. There are too many times in life where we regret not doing enough for others, and I wanted to be better prepared to do more.
—Don't Swallow the Cap
i’m not alone/ i’ll never be
richard hugo said ‘that silo you never saw until today was yours the day you were born’ and that is part of the reason i will go study poetry. dean young said ‘if you go out the same door you’ve come in, you haven’t gone anywhere’ and that is another part. i bought a new notebook for my grad school notes— i should have saved the 9.99— but it seemed right and was shibori dyed and would be nice to keep my notes all in one place, so now it is mine. it smells terrible so i spritzed it with lemon oil and wrapped it in foil and now i’m afraid that lemons will always smell like grad school. today is the first day of fall but the seasons are stubborn and i’m waiting on change.
last winter i crocheted the blanket that seemed like it would never end and when it felt big enough, i sewed the squares together and called it ‘finished.’ lately i’ve been finding extra squares in corners and drawers that i just forgot about and thought to myself, what a waste, i made them and they never got used. i’ve been thinking for two weeks what a waste until it occurred to me that the only thing stopping those squares from becoming part of the blanket is me and the darning needle. it took two weeks to realize there was still time, there will always be more time for making, ‘finished’ will always be an illusion; there was still time to take something small and make it bigger.
This hour along the valley this light at the end
of summer lengthening as it begins to go
this whisper in the tawny grass this feather floating
in the air this house of half a life or so
this blue door open to the lingering sun this stillness
echoing from the rooms like an unfinished sound
this fraying of voices at the edge of the village
beyond the dusty gardens this breath of knowing
without knowing anything this old branch from which
years and faces go on falling this presence already
far away this restless alien in the cherished place
this motion with no measure this moment peopled
with absences with everything that I remember here
eyes the wheeze of the gate greetings birdsongs in winter
the heart dividing dividing and everything
that has slipped my mind as I consider the shadow
all this has occurred to somebody else who has gone
as I am told and indeed it has happened again
and again and I go on trying to understand
how that could ever be and all I know of them
is what they felt in the light here in this late summer
- w. s. merwin
(rereading dean young’s the art of recklessness and this is the last, most correct and perfect graf:)
maybe tomorrow will be the day everyone wakes up to write a poem. or maybe just you and me, fallen asleep on duty, fallen asleep to duty forever. no one knows what will happen, but you and i at least, while the music of a murmur invents us, will have no part in anyone’s war, we will waste nothing, a signal going through us like an inkling of god or a hunger for strawberries or the indisputable fact of love.
We are underwater off the coast of Belize.
The water is lit up even though it’s dark
as if there are illuminated seashells
scattered on the ocean floor.
We’re not wearing oxygen tanks,
yet staying underwater for long stretches.
We are looking for the body of the boy
we lost. Each year he grows a little older.
Last December you opened his knapsack
and stuck in a plastic box of carrots.
Even though we’re underwater, we hear
a song playing over a policeman’s radio.
He comes to the shoreline to park
and eat midnight sandwiches, his headlights
fanning out across the harbor.
And I hold you close, apple of my closed eye,
red dance of my opened fist.
- Jeffrey McDaniel
oh setting sun don’t sink before I’ve found my heart
heart don’t give up now while there’s still time
time don’t beat your old retreat
stay a little while with me
til I’ve looked the whole thing in the eye
I have waited, I have waited
for the big reveal, the even keel
I have waited
oh night bring all your shadows and your silence
silence make a hostage of my mind
mind bring on your trickery
black dogs nip on at my heels
til i’ve looked the whole thing in the eye
swing low, sail high, swing low, sail high
but I love you, how I love you
all my days will rearrange to say I love you
oh setting sun don’t weep for all the things you lose
365 days ago I saw this cutie’s face on petfinder and @catsull came with me to the MSPCA to meet her. The staff wondered why I wanted to see the bun in the back room housed with some random parrots but she ran over to the side to lick me and that was that. The next day @kpaoletta and I raced to the shelter the minute it opened so that nobody else could scoop her up! It hasn’t all been easy but man, coming home to this sassy lady every day is the best ever. Happy adoption, lil weezy!