Giddy-Up

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 3 Comments

the nets - mcvl at night the mary margaretGiddy-Up

Yesterday I felt the sad creep up
Mixed with confusion
Draped around my soul
I swallowed my tears, the hurt in my inside
Places, deep and dark
Pushed them down
With all my might

And all the while I wrestled
Joy was creeping up and in
Waiting to soothe me with her balm
It was the words of a sister friend
And news waiting to rock me gentle
Balm on gaping throbbing
Places

And faith restored in me
In eyes that met
Mine
In love standing on the dock
Reminding me of love
That overcomes
Screamed the breeze
That brought the joy
That raised me up again

And I recalled the moments giddy
Cheered me up
A flash of scattered happy
At small and wondrous things
And I recall the look of kids at work
Hanging over sides of boats
Beside a mender of the nets

So I raise mine
In hopes of catching giddy joy
Even while I stand graveside today at two
Especially there
Remembering that life will always
Bring me joy
If I raise my net high, in the breeze when it blows hard
When it comes gentle
Always
While I raise my net
Untangling sadness from the threads
Breathing deep of sweet forgiveness

And reminding and remembering
The days of giddy-up
Are here
When I stand beside the grave
At two o’clock today

Some Things I Learned In June

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

I am joining Emily Freeman over at Chatting At The Sky today as we join hands with our  lists, quirky, informative and random. We are over at her place sharing some things we learned during the month of June. Join me and others at Emily’s place for some humorous, informative, odd and fun list making.

Because I did not take copious notes during the month of June on what I was learning in June this will unravel in an organic sort of randomness, so hang on, stick with me, or go ahead and get out now while you still can.

And my personal favorite might be number 15 on this list, but I am not choosing a personal favorite because I don’t want to make the other random things I learned feel bad or inferior.

dolphin duo show offs

1. Teaching moments are everywhere and they can be teased out of a telemarketing phone interaction between said telemarketer and an eighteen year old. And yes I pulled the  “he probably has a baby to buy formula for” card, so be nice. A parenting moment for which I might want  to request a do over is this one–” how to be a patient Christian young man to an unrelenting telemarketer.”  When an eighteen year old picks up the phone and the voice says “are you a senior who is prone to falling” and it is not a robo call and he told him three times he wasn’t interested. Well this is when you try to teach “we all have to make a living somehow, be nice”.

2. People don’t whisper in libraries any more. When I was a growing up child, this was imperative, non-negotiable. Just saying. Things change. Any volume is “whateves”.

3. Days are like fingerprints. No two are alike. How can so many combinations of days exist. They just keep switching it up on me. Life is not boring. Never. Or is that ever. Double negatives undo me.  And so do tired cliches. Wait aren’t all cliches tired.

4. The older you get the faster summer travels. There might be a mathematical equation which could be formulated for the time, age, travel, season combination/thingy. I was never good in math and I only know this experientially which is how I learn best. Time flies!  Or at least this summer gig is going by in a blaze of glory. I will let the physics brain trust figure that one out.

5. Just when you think you aren’t one to get star-crossed, you are proven wrong. I went over the moon this week when I received a text message from Rita Wilson, Editor at Large for Huffington Post 50. Man I was giddy. So I took a grainy instagram of the said text message. Maybe I don’t know myself that well after  all.

6. You can learn a lot about humanity and stray cats and the price of deodorant when you wait in a line at the Dollar General. And wait…and wait…..and wait. You almost decide you can do without all the essentials you thought you couldn’t live without.

7. Friends you make through blogging are for keeps. And try to explain that one to non-blogging types who don’t have blogging friends.Go ahead, I am waiting. Because I might need some tips on the splaining part. This is a new type of “eyes glaze over” look.

8. Fresh fried shark is delicious. I was a doubter. I am a new fan. It is okay if you find that gross. I get it. But if you need a recipe email me.

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9. Riding a bike is better than anything in the world. Well not really but it is awesome. Especially when your bike is turquoise with yellow flowers and it rattles when you pedal. I am a fan of just jumping on and going for little rides, a lot of little rides in a day. Cheap stress reliever.

10. Arugala may be the new Iceberg. Fifty might be the new thirty. Trader Joe’s coffee is my new fave and cheaper than my old fave. But I can’t say the name of the old fave because it might start something unpleasant. The internet is weird that way. I know. It happened to a friend of mine.

11. You can invite a published author to lunch and he will say  “yes that sounds wonderful” and that is a loose translation. But you get all giddy again. Giddy might be a new favorite word.

12. I am at the age where I am seeing a lot of facelifts. I might like faces unlifted.

13. A three man cheering squad is sometimes all the encouragement you need to submit your poem to Hufftington Post 50- 50 Poets project. Who can you encourage today?

14. A close up photo of a peach is really a new cool way of looking at an old favorite fruit. And you wonder if James got this close to his peach.

peach 2013

15. I closed down the comments on my blog for awhile and now I am opening them up. I MISS THE INTERACTION OF COMMENTORS AND FRIENDS ON MY BLOG.  Typing  in all caps sounds like talking loudly when you want to make your point really boldly and straightforwardly. And you don’t want people to miss the point you are trying to make.

The Turning: In Which Around Every Corner Is A Discovery

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

shrimp boats on at night

Often they are small. And then other times they are wonderful and large, looming truths about life. They hover like ebony rain-packed  summer clouds in the afternoon. Or they float by like seeds blown from a spent dandelion. They are coming and going. A constant force to be reckoned with. They are hatchlings and seedlings and fledglings of this life.

Birthed in unexpected places and moments, they appear. And I am called to be vigilant and at peace. A combination of human emotion that allows tender and tough to co-exist. Tender enough to capture the magnificence. And tough enough to know that in the netting, there will be objects that must be released. It is not all glory and it is not all beauty. But seeking the lovely, the grace-filled and the glorious requires casting the net into the life seas.

In a state of watchful child-like wonder I can live this season of my life in a state of re-born newness. Like a bivalve cracks open and lets the water flow in and out, receiving and releasing. Keeping the nutrients, releasing the sediments. I am called to continually take in the discoveries of my life. I would starve on a diet of bland, if I never crack open the door to wonder. I would miss the shades of blue on the hydranga that go to purple, lavender and aqua. And  the hidden greens waiting to decide which color to be.

We would never know the way rain feels, dropping from a summer storm on warm tanned flesh if we remain cocooned in dry places. One more day reveals one more smell or taste, never before experienced.

And words of an eighteen year old child who want to tell their story get tangled in my net. I can choose.  I choose to  listen and realize there is more than the words unfurling from the man/child lips. There is a heart of curiosity and trust. There is his own discovery needing a place to land and light.

In a moment or two, a child will awake from her warm quilted bed in an air-conditioned room and tell me of her ten day mission trip. She has gone away and seen poverty and a world outside of her own. She and her passport are back. And there are stories to gently receive.

A parent lives a layered life of discovery. Because she holds the key to seeing through a child’s glistening eyes. Her own, the ones who look to her and call her momma. And it magnifies the wonder. For at once she is receiving discovery  through her own glassy portals  and stooping down to see through the eyes of those she is raising.

If I see with open wonder and a seeking heart, will I show my children how even in my fifty-fourth year of life, the beauty never ends. The unveiling never stops. And his Kingdom is filled with marvelous intricate designs. That art is living, breathing, waiting, hoping, pulsing all around.

And I am in this middle place. I see through the eyes of my aging mother too. The joys rebounding in her life. The strange and child-like discovery that is hers as she moves through her days. She forgets and then she remembers. And if I can learn to refine a listening heart,  I will hear the most intricate details of a woman, a mother and another poet’s life.

Around every corner is a discovery.  I will raise my net.

And bend into a low and listening stance, ever vigilant, ever watchful. Filled with the ready knowing that something is waiting. And that something is beautiful.

I will round the corner at a slow and steady gait. One that expects to not miss a single fleck floating in the sun-soaked or moon-drenched air.

++++++++++

Joining Jennifer and Emily

Paris Comes To Me

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall

night on the water

Paris Comes To Me

And not even if the boat were bigger

Nor if the moon was  any rounder

Not if the air was any crisper

Could this night  be more splendid

We agreed it felt like Maine, though we have never been

So much of what we know and love will only be here

We may not pack a bag or sail away

Even for our 25th

But if we stay right here, exceedingly content is my middle name

I wear it on the nights like this

And you are owl and I am the pussycat off in a pea green boat

But ours is shades of blue

No small detail is lost on us

This night

For though I dream of Paris

To walk the streets I did for a year in  ’78 and ‘ 79

I could not breathe in

More fragrant joy than

This

Place that feels like mine

What I inhale  in this small creek into every pore and place

Ours

The one that spills with laughter, wine and wind

Love into the waterway

Under skies all shades of grey, pink peeks out, the sun and moon wink and nod

And we go home and wonder

One to the other

Could it be more magical than this

I long now for the nights

When Paris came to me

Pluff mud, shrimp boats, and clammers returning with their haul

These are not the Seine or my Boulevard Malesherbes

Maybe home was meant to hold you

And tie an  anchor to your soul

Love so blind we could not leave

Only off  each night in our petite  blue boat

Exceedingly content, my middle name

Before the one you gave to me those 25 years ago.