Bloom Where Planted




"In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good.  Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for eyes to see the sun."  Ecclesiastes 11:6-7

I'm sure you've seen the Hampton Inn commercial advertising the breakfast buffet--the staff member watches a guest make a waffle with the flipping waffle iron:  "You did a good job.  That looks great."  Just one of those feel-good moments one experiences at the Hampton Inn.

We had the occasion to stay at the Hampton Inn twice this summer.  And one morning I attempted to use the waffle iron (I had not yet seen the commercial and didn't know that it must be rotated for the timer to work).  The staff member came over and cajoled me.  "You didn't know to flip it.  Oh, no.  I bet your young child here could make a better waffle than you.  Here out of the way.  I will cook it for you." 

Everything else about our stay was wonderful.

Short exchanges, small gestures can have an impact.  A kind word here, a reprimand there, these are what make up the tenor of a morning.

Last spring, I let the boys plant zinnias.  However and wherever they wanted.  Our garden was a beautiful mess.  This spring, I tried for a bit of order.  Boys, plant the seeds here and here and here.  And the garden, while no less messy, has been crazy productive, allowing me to give away 4-5 bouquets at a time while keeping a lovely bouquet or two to brighten my own kitchen.

And it has been so much fun to give away a cup of lovely joy.  While I have been incredibly busy with homeschooling and tutoring this fall, the bouquets have been a small way I can show folks I appreciate and care for them.  I am grateful to be able to share beauty in however small a gesture.



Frederiksted, Dusk

Derek Walcott
Sunset, the cheapest of all picture-shows,
was all they waited for; old men like empties
set down from morning outside the almshouse,
to let the rising evening brim their eyes,
and, in one row, return the level stare
of light that shares its mortal properties
with the least stone in Frederiksted, as if
more than mortality brightened the air,
like a girl tanning on a rock alone
who fills with light. Whatever it is
that leaves bright flesh like sand and turns it chill,
not age alone, they were old, but a state
made possible by their collective will,
would shine in them like something between life
and death, our two concrete simplicities,
and waited too in, seeming not to wait,
substantial light and insubstantial stone.

This beautiful poem about pleasant light/life that the Biblical poet writes about in Ecclesiastes explores "our two concrete simplicities" Life and Death while suggesting a third possibility:  Transcendence.  And for the poet, like the girl tanning on the rock is objectified by passersby, the act of being objectified leads to transcendence.  Yet, I read it as dying to self with its heaviness, its earthy presence, the now which seems to be all there is--the only reality--that is, in the end, insubstantial; accepting the new life, the power of the Holy Spirit that which is unseen, that is the real real:  "substantial light and insubstantial stone."

Here's an old poem of my own reworked about blooming where planted:

                           DREAM HOME

Heidegger says "To dwell is
to garden" so with my farming
heritage, it's my ancestors
who really lived.

This nomadic mouth is clownish and eyes
pop everywhere at once.
Zinnia leaves tender and blooms fill
solitary stalks so that color drowns out
yellow flowerlets in my butterfly-beloved,
overgrown garden, plot un-demarcated, life sprawling.

Your color analysis shows yellow is you, so
why go gray? And the blondes have it.
Bloom where you're planted or cultiver notre jardin,
Oui, Voltaire--and ooh, la, la. . .

                         Being is sealed inside as itself--
                         that being conceals
                         and discloses
                         simultaneously.

The parallel universe of Facebook is appealing, but all I am is now--
sip and dream fragrant orange pekoe laced
with bergamot the taste of desire.

This line must be sung:  Praise the Lord. . . I saw
the light--




Comments

  1. I love your Ecclesiastes quote! Also, this: "... suggesting a third possibility: Transcendence." And this: "that is the real real"

    Your poem is so good. I especially like these sections:

    "This nomadic mouth is clownish and eyes ... homophone in "eyes/I's"
    pop everywhere at once."

    You're so clever in the way you extend a line beyond the length of those surrounding it to display a double meaning or flag a potential alternate-interpretation. (I'm referring to "eyes," in this case.)

    "blooms fill
    solitary stalks" ... especially since "stalks" is a homophone; anytime I can squeeze a double meaning out of a word, I'm happy ;)

    the Voltaire quote

    "all I am is now"

    "sip and dream fragrant orange pekoe laced
    with bergamot the taste of desire"

    I'm so glad you came out of hiding to write something!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was good to surface--thanks for reading and commenting!

      Delete
  2. I really wish you would write more! You know, my favorite poems are often only 5 to 10 lines long. You could go for short and clever and only spend a few minutes doing it. Plus, you could write it in your head while you're going about your other daily business. :)

    ReplyDelete

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