The Great Poem

I seem to have completely lost the ability to put anything on paper (or to the screen) that isn't completely awful drivel. I've recently ripped page after page from my notebook to cast into the flames. Crap that made me cringe to read it.... Well, this too shall pass...hopefully....

And then this morning I saw this at the Writers Almanac. I've bolded a part resonant with me. I've bolded and italicized a part most resonant...:

The Great Poem
Lawrence Raab

The great poem is always possible.
Think of Keats and his odes.
But we shouldn't have to be dying,

What I'm writing now is not
the great poem. After a few lines
I could tell. It may not even be

a particularly good poem, although
it's too early to decide about that.
Keep going, I say. See what happens.

But trying hard is one of the problems.
since it shows in the lines as a strain
or struggle that reminds the reader

too much of the writer, whereas
most readers want to listen alone.
The great poem, I think, will arrive

when I no longer care. Perhaps
I'll have abandoned art altogether,
and I won't even want to write

the poem down. But then I'll remember
what I once would have given
for this moment, and I'll go back

to my desk. And I'll write the poem
as though I were another person,
someone I will never be again.

from The History of Forgetting.

Yes, I think that's exactly when the great poem will probably arrive. Kinda reminds me of another post I once made.

Just to say thank you

This simple thank you to all of my readers and commenters was inspired by the great discussion on my previous post. This is certainly not the first time there have been such discussions in the comment space....

One of the strengths/weaknesses of my particular wiring is that I like to make people think deeply about things. (Hmmm, maybe I wish to infect everyone else with my own "disease"? ;) And often here on this blog, I float some half baked, incomplete thought out there for consideration, perhaps things that I am thinking about, that I have not formed a firm opinion about (and perhaps never will), or something that I hope will provoke...just a bit. I try to be a gentle provoker....

And many times here when I have floated these half baked thoughts, many of you have offered wisdom, insight, and your own provocations to my thinking. On many occasions you have taken my prompts for pondering and worthwhile discussions have come about in the comment space.

And I am very grateful. I count myself fortunate to have the thoughtful readers and commenters that come to this blog.

Thank you. Thank you all for reading, for offering your thoughts, for listening....

Peace to you all

"Nothing, of course, begins at the time you think it did."
—Lillian Hellman

Things I think about at 3:00 AM, #228

Sometimes I wonder, are we really more "advanced" than many of the other creatures that inhabit this planet with us?:

"Unlike humans, wild creatures strive for survival and die without complaint or expectation of anything better." --Flandrum Hill

Just a question.... I actually claim very few answers....

Life and death. On and on. Here in the north, whether in Flandrum Hill's Nova Scotia or here in my Minnesota, "Nothing makes the outdoors more uninviting at this time of year than blackflies and mosquitoes. There are thick swarms of them in the more humid areas.... It’s the females that are after blood to enable them to incubate their eggs, and they’re relentless in their pursuit. Any warm-blooded creature will do. But it won’t be long before they’re gobbled up in turn by baby birds. The cycle of life and death goes on."

Profundity from a Nova Scotian "pen." And I thought I would pass along the pondering....

Peace to you all today.

Addendum, Sunday, 7 June:

Or, a counter point to ponder offered by The Rambling Taoist (lifted from the comments box):

"How do we really know if other species "die without complaint or expectation"? Since we don't speak their language nor understand very much about the complexities of their worlds, they may complain just as loudly as we do and we simply don't realize it."

Thanks, RT.

Further addendum, Monday, 8 June:

I would also encourage you to check out the rest of the excellent discussion that ensued in response to The Rambling Taoist's comment above, and as well as his post "We Don't Know Jack," which was inspired by this discussion.

How to Climb a Mountain

how to climb a mountain
Maya Stein

Make no mistake. This will be an exercise in staying vertical.
Yes, there will be a view, later, a wide swath of open sky,
but in the meantime: tree and stone. If you're lucky, a hawk will
coast overhead, scanning the forest floor. If you're lucky,
a set of wildflowers will keep you cheerful. Mostly, though,
a steady sweat, your heart fluttering indelicately, a solid ache
perforating your calves. This is called work, what you
will come to know, eventually and simply, as movement,
as all the evidence you need to make your way.
Forget where you were. That story is no longer true.
Level your gaze to the trail you're on,
and even the dark won't stop you.