Wednesday, August 9, 2017

school years starts and stops

Wendy's very being is an antidote to anxiety.
How could one panic in the serenity
which waves and ripples out from her?

Mick appears an unlikely Mariologist
disguised as an athletic motivational speaker.


I want: to receive your story with grace
to let your words permeate and transform my
living, growing image of you.
I want: to learn something new about you every day
I want, like Christ, not to do what cannot be done—wrap
myself around you like a quilt and shield you from all
the harms that come from within and without—but to
hold your pulsing hand until my heart keeps time with yours,
and feels with it each pain, each wound, each little
angst, each joy, each cross and resurrection.


The blue slide background with white text reminds me of the
blue ink staining my white pants, and I escape for a moment:
I am lying on the middle bench of Dad's fishing skiff, fishing
rod resting on my groin lazily, Tom Sawyer-style, and I fall
asleep under the warm sun as I watch the thick white
clouds ("aren't all beautiful things things thick?" Cyril O'Regan
speaks to an attenuated modernity evident in the starving
women in his class) run across the purest blue sky,
pushed by Canadian-bound winds. I think of the myriad myths we come from,
and I am from this one:
Northernness, Northern Sky, something cold, pure, wild,
a strong, clean beauty—perhaps because my birth was followed
by a snowstorm, an odd occurrence in October,
even in Minnesota.
[I'll discover in November, four months later, another child of that snowstorm is already dead. How can death snatch youth from their beds? The least original of thoughts, but perhaps growing up means discovering the truth of clichés for yourself.]

Weiyang, we'll follow you to Canada. Or at least to better mental health.
A Harvard Grant Study found:
"There are two pillars of happiness; One is love, the other is finding a way of coping with life that does not push love away."


A quote I've thought of all morning:
"We are not the sum of our sins and weaknesses. We are the sum of the Father's love for us and our real capacity to become images of his Son."
—John Paul II, pope, saint, priest, artist, philosopher,
paradox for the sake of love.

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