Friday, May 20, 2011

Poulter's Measure

I am taking a poetry class right now and this pair was for our last assignment, a form called Poulter's Measure that is a meter made up of alternate Alexandrines of iambic hexameter, (12 syllables or 6 hard stresses) and Fourteeners consisting of iambic heptameter (14 syllables or 7 hard stresses). Because of the extreme length of the lines, each line of the poulter's measure couplet is usually divided into two near-even parts with a caesura.



The Girl’s Room: Day


The space is replete with color: rainbow curtains and a rug

Smallish beds sport doll collections, tea sets and a rubber bug

Shelves are stacked with plastic toys from Target hardly used

Exotic costumes in a wooden chest worn out and plainly abused

The princesses sit dead center surrounded by castles created

From beads and Lego’s attached with tape, their attentions unabated

Unnoticed I slip past the kingdom, garbage bag in hand

Teasing out broken hairclips, tangled necklaces no mortal can command

For if a disposal regimen is not religiously followed

It won’t be long before your highnesses in detritus will be swallowed



The Girl’s Room: Night


In the darkness keys tap quietly as attempts to sleep are made

A four year old who’s feverish ought to slide into slumber and fade

Alas her body is fidgety and a her mother’s patience is lost

The laptop lights the stillness of empty parental threats that cost

The child tosses the bed sheets and asks for milk in a glass

Mother fetches it while silently thinking “what a pain in the ass”

Frustration mounts in wishing that mother could go to bed

Misfortune sits its weighty bottom on her lap instead

Monday, May 16, 2011

I Am Lucky


I leaned over to smell a purple flower this morning and started to cry. The odor that waltzed up my nostrils was sweet, strong and surprising. Wild flowers in my experience, are not usually that fragrant but there was something else bringing up those tears. It was realizing how often I bend to smell a wildflower and am disappointed. I was bracing myself for that familiar disappointment when I was knocked out instead. How often do I brace myself for disappointment unconsciously? Honest answer: A lot.


I was hiking down the hill when this happened. I was hiking down the hill that is at the top of the big street close to our house and which I drive past nearly every week day taking my kids to school. The hill (really it’s part of a mountain but I like calling it a hill) calls me. In the fall I was hiking it several times a week, using it as a training ground for a backpacking trip I took in October. Since then I have kept going up there regularly but when the weather got colder and the days shorter, my routine petered out. Since spring arrived I have wanted to go more than I have made it up. Running and biking have been giving me a better work out.


But I missed my hill, so today I made time for it. As soon as I walked through the gate I was startled by how alive it all was. I was taking big deep breaths, consuming the odors of pine and eucalyptus. The earth was still holding some damp from the rain yesterday and the grass was tall and yellow. The hills stretching up in front of me were greener than I had seen them in a long time. All that rain this winter really paid off.


It was chilly, much to chilly for mid-May but who knows what's normal anymore? I had on a fleece shirt and it was buttoned up. I walked up the steep incline at a brisk pace, my new habit of running giving dividends in spades. I took that hill like I never have before. I was huffing and puffing and feeling fast. A wrentit was singing its long trill. I felt like I was with the family who have known me since before I existed. My earth, mountain, stream, bird and brush family. I was soaking it up and working hard to make it to the halfway point in record time.


I stopped at the electric poles and took off the fleece which was making me sweat. I was panting. The air up there was even colder and felt great in my lungs and on my hot skin. I looked out over the view of Pasadena, Los Angeles and the ocean. A crow was circling overhead. I felt lucky. Lucky to be alive. I felt grateful for the incredible accident that is the earth.



I had taken the girls to JPL on Saturday and we learned all about the solar system which brought me back to the incredible fact that we are spinning through space on this ball that has the perfect balance of water, atmosphere and minerals to sustain an enormous abundance of life. And the fact that we are the perfect distance from the sun to make that all happen. Seeing pictures of the other planets up close made me think it’s pure accident we have all this. Just like the accident that was my own conception in my mother’s womb. An incredible collision. That is how the earth and I were born. Out of a collision that produced the magnificent sun and about eight other planets and countless moons that are either too close or too far from the sun to sustain life as we know it. I was looking at that perfect balance: the mountains, the sky, the sun and the ocean. I am so lucky to be alive right now. So lucky to be here at all.


I started down the hill with a tremendous feeling of gratitude buzzing in my chest. I had only seen one other hiker on my way up. The trail was surprisingly empty for such a gorgeous day. I heard a shuffling on the path ahead that lacked the steady footsteps of a human. When I turned the corner the side of a deer was just a foot in front of me. It was looking up to my right and glancing back at me when I saw there were two more just a few feet above me in the brush overlooking the path. As soon as I looked at them they bounded up the steep slope but I was blocking the other one who wanted to join them. I guess I could have backed up but by then the deer in front of me had bounded up ahead. I watched as it cautiously peaked around the next corner to see if other humans were approaching. They must normally avoid the trail. But maybe they cross it regularly and I just never caught that moment before.


It was exciting to be so close to them. It brought me to the many other close encounters I have had with deer. The one that I always think of first is the time I was at a retreat with David Elliott in 1999. I went into the woods feeling very sorry for myself and frustrated with my problems. I was sick of them and wanted someone else’s. I walked up to a big pine tree. It started to rain. I talked to the tree. I hugged the tree. I told the tree everything. I complained about myself. Then I turned to walk away and there was a deer staring at me. Very close. Very still. I stood still and stared back at her. We just stayed like that, staring at each other with the rain falling on us both and pit patting on the leaves all around us. Then slowly she started to walk away. She was moving so slowly I could see each muscle contracting. I stood still, in awe of her grace and beauty. Her message was clear as a church bell. Be gentle with yourself. You are too hard on yourself.



I thought about how far I have come since that day. I am a healer, a writer, an artist. I was the same person back then, with all the same talents, but just frightened to death of myself. Now I am married to a someone I love to death and together we are raising two hilarious and wonderful children. I think of all those collisions, all the accidents that had to happen at just the right moment to get me here today. I mean really. I am damn lucky.


I was feeling all that when I reached the purple flower and thoughtlessly bent over it ready for nothing to hit my nose. Instead I was rewarded with a beautiful smell. What is the opposite of disappointment? Surprise? Satisfaction? Gratitude? It is all of those and more. Because disappointment is the result of having an unmet expectation. It is something I have to set myself up for. It is something I do. And I can just as easily do gratitude and satisfaction instead. Then the reward is a surprise!