The first thing I thought of while reading this beautiful, brilliant piece was part of an interview Ross Gay did with Krista Tippett when he says that:
"if you and I know we’re each in the process [of dying] there is something that will happen between us. There’s some kind of tenderness that might be possible — not always going to happen because I might just get scared and do something else. But there’s the potential, I think, for some kind of tenderness."
And then I thought of another James Wright poem, which highlights, I think, that kind of tenderness and mercy in action. Here is that poem in full:
The First Days
The first thing I saw in the morning
Was a huge golden bee ploughing
His burly right shoulder into the belly
Of a sleek yellow pear
Low on a bough.
Before he could find that sudden black honey
That squirms around in there
Inside the seed, the tree could not bear any more.
"The further we get from mystery, the further we get from each other, and the further we get from ourselves."
So true.
And I think the 'mean trick' of the devices you speak of is that they send us further Away from ourselves, our own inner knowing and connection, and they foment doubt in our own wisdom.
I had an EMT instructor who taught me to keep the machinery firmly in its place as a tool but not to let it override what only my own human senses and intuition, if you will, could provide.
i subscribed just after reading pilgrims, which i bought after seeing online the passage that mentions cheetahs. love your insight into these two poets whom i so adore <3
"to consider the unseen depth in each of us, that massive and invisible ocean we keep dammed up, this place we have no language for and yet is what all language is reaching for."
Just beautiful, to find depth in each other through the understanding of death. You have a very profound way of writing, really enjoyed the read.
Thank you for this, Devin.
The first thing I thought of while reading this beautiful, brilliant piece was part of an interview Ross Gay did with Krista Tippett when he says that:
"if you and I know we’re each in the process [of dying] there is something that will happen between us. There’s some kind of tenderness that might be possible — not always going to happen because I might just get scared and do something else. But there’s the potential, I think, for some kind of tenderness."
And then I thought of another James Wright poem, which highlights, I think, that kind of tenderness and mercy in action. Here is that poem in full:
The First Days
The first thing I saw in the morning
Was a huge golden bee ploughing
His burly right shoulder into the belly
Of a sleek yellow pear
Low on a bough.
Before he could find that sudden black honey
That squirms around in there
Inside the seed, the tree could not bear any more.
The pear fell to the ground,
With the bee still half alive
inside its body.
He would have died if I hadn’t knelt down
And sliced the pear gently
A little more open.
The bee shuddered, and returned.
Maybe I should have left him alone there,
Drowning in his own delight.
The best days are the first
To flee, sang the lovely
Musician born in this town
So like my own.
I let the bee go
Among the gasworks at the edge of Mantua.
"The best days are the first / To flee"...whew. Haven't read this one before. Thank you, Jeff! Appreciate you.
Your heart and words continue to WOW! me...xoP
thank you, Patty!
Thank you for this healing heartening sustaining post.
thanks always, Amanda
Oh my goodness, I had forgotten about "Today I Was Happy, So I Made This Poem." I love that one. And thank you, as always, for your own insights.
it's a stunner...I adore it. thank you for reading!
We do indeed each carry a mountain on our backs. Your choice of words always stops me in my tracks. Thank you!
thank you, Leanne!
"The further we get from mystery, the further we get from each other, and the further we get from ourselves."
So true.
And I think the 'mean trick' of the devices you speak of is that they send us further Away from ourselves, our own inner knowing and connection, and they foment doubt in our own wisdom.
I had an EMT instructor who taught me to keep the machinery firmly in its place as a tool but not to let it override what only my own human senses and intuition, if you will, could provide.
further away from ourselves! yes -- a thousand times, yes. thanks always for reading.
i subscribed just after reading pilgrims, which i bought after seeing online the passage that mentions cheetahs. love your insight into these two poets whom i so adore <3
thank you so much!
"to consider the unseen depth in each of us, that massive and invisible ocean we keep dammed up, this place we have no language for and yet is what all language is reaching for."
Just beautiful, to find depth in each other through the understanding of death. You have a very profound way of writing, really enjoyed the read.