dual personalities

Tag: poetry

January 26, 2021

I love the thistle ’tis an ill used flower

by chuckofish

Well, one thing I have tried to be mindful of is doing a little needlepoint every day. I have two large projects going and I am making progress. My Tudor Thistle is really coming along! It gives me at least the illusion of accomplishment.

I have always been fond of the lowly thistle. It is, after all, the floral emblem of Scotland. The thistle turns up in art from time to time…

Albrecht Durer, self-portrait, 1493
Van Gogh, Still Life with Thistles, 1890
Art Nouveau thistle tile, 1905
William Morris & Co., wallpaper

And here’s a poem: “The Thistle” by John Clare (1793-1864)…

I love the thistle with its ruddy flowers
It cheers me on the waste in lonely hours
It cheers me in lone sunshine out of doors
When seeking solitude on rushy moores
It cheers me resting on the way-side stones
Where tears of morning glitter on the thorns
I love the thistle ’tis an ill used flower
And bees are singing round for many an hour.

I love the thistle and its prickles too
Cobwebs are round it with a veil of dew
I love the thistle where it bravely stands
For rights of Liberty in many lands
Simply defying every rogueish eye
With ” wha dare meddle wi me” that passes bye
My right is simple, blooming ‘mong the flowers
That God’s hand scatters on this land of ours.

So I love the thistles spread round Scottish bowers
Better than any other of the wildling flowers
I love the warrior thistle where it stands
Though often wounded in the legs and hands
On Bannockburn its bloom undaunted stood
Dy’d deeper in the streams of human blood.

James Faed, Jr. (Scottish, 1857-1920), Scottish Landscape (detail)

3 Comments
January 8, 2021

Who needs some chicken soup?

by chuckofish

This might be helpful to you if you are feeling down.

Poetry helps.

The Want of Peace
by Wendell Berry

All goes back to the earth,
and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman’s silence
receiving the river’s grace,
the gardener’s musing on rows.

I lack the peace of simple things.
I am never wholly in place.
I find no peace or grace.
We sell the world to buy fire,
our way lighted by burning men,
and that has bent my mind
and made me think of darkness
and wish for the dumb life of roots.

Here is Paul Zahl’s list of TCM movie picks for January. Since I don’t watch television except for old reruns of Adam-12, I am always looking for new (old) movies to watch and this list offers some good ideas as well as some classics to re-view.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

7 Comments
December 25, 2020

Joyful as a choir

by chuckofish

Here’s hoping you all have a holly jolly Christmas…

Fashions by Lauren

..and that things don’t get too out of control.

But try to take a moment to remember why we celebrate…

Remembering that it happened once,
We cannot turn away the thought,
As we go out, cold, to our barns
Toward the long night’s end, that we
Ourselves are living in the world
It happened in when it first happened,
That we ourselves, opening a stall
(A latch thrown open countless times
Before), might find them breathing there,
Foreknown: the Child bedded in straw,
The mother kneeling over Him,
The husband standing in belief
He scarcely can believe, in light
That lights them from no source we see,
An April morning’s light, the air
Around them joyful as a choir.
We stand with one hand on the door,
Looking into another world
That is this world, the pale daylight
Coming just as before, our chores
To do, the cattle all awake,
Our own frozen breath hanging
In front of us; and we are here
As we have never been before,
Sighted as not before, our place
Holy, although we knew it not.

Wendell Berry

And I thought this was funny:

3 Comments
December 15, 2020

A touch of myrrh

by chuckofish

Cards in each mailbox,
angel, manger, star and lamb,
as the rural carrier,
driving the snowy roads,
hears from her bundles
the plaintive bleating of sheep,
the shuffle of sandals,
the clopping of camels.
At stop after stop,
she opens the little tin door
and places deep in the shadows
the shepherds and wise men,
the donkeys lank and weary,
the cow who chews and muses.
And from her Styrofoam cup,
white as a star and perched
on the dashboard, leading her
ever into the distance,
there is a hint of hazelnut,
and then a touch of myrrh.

“Christmas Mail” by Ted Kooser

Read through this article about the line-up of December Christmas movies (and others) on TCM to find out why Paul Zahl and I should truly be best friends. I mean really. I don’t agree with his take on all the movies, but The World of Henry Orient and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon are spot on.

This is an interesting tidbit about Episcopal minister Endicott Peabody in the Old West. He built St. Paul’s Episcopal in Tombstone that stands today as the oldest Protestant church in Arizona.

On December 21 Saturn and Jupiter will align into a beautiful bright star. This will be the first time they align like this since the Middle Ages. According to Forbes, the two planets will look like a “double planet” and provide an extraordinary amount of light. The last time these two planets aligned like this was on March 4, 1226, according to astronomer Patrick Hartigan at Rice University. Pretty cool. I hope I remember to look.

We were sad to learn that Charlie Pride, country singing superstar and the first Black member of the Country Music Hall of Fame, had died at age 86.

Here’s Mr. Pride bringing some Christmas cheer your way 50 years ago:

Enjoy your Tuesday. Only three more days ’til Christmas vacay starts pour moi.

6 Comments
December 8, 2020

“You sell whatever you want, but don’t sell it here tonight.”

by chuckofish

Sometimes when you’ve had a day full of Zoom meetings and newsletters revisions and two hours on the phone with the university IT help desk, there is nothing to do but watch Youtube videos of Steve McQ.

Tonight, if I’m still feeling really confused, I may have to indulge in a little Channing Tatum…

‘Cause a woman ought to do what she thinks is best.

That’s all I’ve got today. Oh, and this from Samuel Taylor Coleridge:

What if you slept

And what if

In your sleep

You dreamed

And what if

In your dream

You went to heaven

And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower

And what if

When you awoke

You had that flower in your hand

Ah, what then?

Enjoy your Tuesday!

4 Comments
November 3, 2020

“What is life but a series of inspired follies?”*

by chuckofish

Recently I watched the movie My Foolish Heart (1949) which, as you know, is the only film adaptation of a fictional work written by J.D. Salinger. It was loosely adapted from his short story, “Uncle Wiggly in Connecticut,” and Salinger was so disappointed with the changes made to his original story, that he never again allowed any of his work to be adapted for film.

Dana Andrews and Susan Hayward–all wrong

It isn’t a terrible movie (especially if you don’t know the Salinger connection.) The screenplay is, after all, by Julius and Philip Epstein, who wrote Casablanca (1942). But they took Salinger’s poignant little story and turned it into a four-star tearjerker, giving it the full-blown Hollywood treatment. He must have been really embarrassed, I mean really embarrassed. I re-read the story and I suggest you do the same.

This is an interesting article about a dead Presbyterian who still has a lot to say to us.

And this article by an Episcopalian makes some good points.

And I like this poem by Richard Wilbur:

A Barred Owl

The warping night air having brought the boom
Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking of us, if rightly listened to,
“Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”

Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,
Can also thus domesticate a fear,
And send a small child back to sleep at night
Not listening for the sound of stealthy flight
Or dreaming of some small thing in a claw
Borne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.

Who cooks for you?

*George Bernard Shaw (He continued, “The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it doesn’t come every day.””)

6 Comments
October 13, 2020

If we meet and I say, ‘Hi’

by chuckofish

Ations

If we meet and I say, ‘Hi,’
That’s a salutation.
If you ask me how I feel,
That’s a consideration.
If we stop and talk a while,
That’s a conversation.
If we understand each other,
That’s a communication.
If we argue, scream and fight,
That’s an altercation.
If later we apologize,
That’s reconciliation.
If we help each other home,
That’s a cooperation.
And all these actions added up
Make Civilization.
(And if I say this is a wonderful poem,
Is that exaggeration?)

–Shel Silverstein

Maybe this poem helps to understand why civilization, as we know it, is crumbling…

I have never been able to read more than a few pages of a Lee Child novel, but I still thought this article was interesting. “The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of… We know the truth not only by the reason, but by the heart.” (Pascal)

This is a very helpful list. “The Lord is righteous in all his ways.” (Psalm 145:17)

Did you know that this month marks the 70th anniversary of the publication of C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe? It might be time to take it off the shelf for another reading.

“It isn’t Her!” This was bad grammar of course, but that is how beavers talk when they are excited; I mean, in Narnia–in our world they usually don’t talk at all.”

Happy Tuesday. Keep going.

3 Comments
October 2, 2020

“To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason”*

by chuckofish

It is October! We are “back at school” but still on Zoom. Sigh. Thankfully, the weather is beautiful and fall-like and it is Friday. The leaves are turning, but we won’t hit peak for weeks here in flyover country.

The boy came over yesterday afternoon to help haul things out to the curb for (another) bulky trash pickup. We got rid of a lot of ‘stuff’ that daughter #1 and I bagged up over the last few weekends, plus some big items that were just taking up space.

The wee laddie accompanied his dad and when I was tidying up the living room before they went home, I found him …

…in the bag of Beanie Babies! Quel nutball!

I thought this article was typical of Apartment Therapy and there “must do,” right now, apocalyptic, “as the climate crisis grows more dire” attitude to everything, but it did get me thinking. If you had to leave home because of an emergency, what would you grab?

This was a thoughtful post about Raskolnikov and the Gospel of Luke and includes this provocative line, “Just prior to this, my mother had revitalized her commitment to the local Episcopal church after years of shoddy attendance.”

This is so true.

TCM will be celebrating 30 years of The Film Foundation in October so I am looking forward to watching a lot of good movies. Last night I watched one of my favorites: La Strada (1954), Fellini’s masterpiece.

“Its purpose is – how should I know? If I knew, I’d be…the Almighty, who knows everything. When you’re born. When you die. Who knows? No, I don’t know what this pebble’s purpose is, but it must have one, because if this pebble has no purpose, then everything is pointless. Even the stars! At least, I think so. And you too. You have a purpose too.”

I will be on my own this weekend, so it will be a quiet one. Believe me, I need one! How about you?

*Robert Frost, “Reluctance”

6 Comments
September 28, 2020

“Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests”*

by chuckofish

My weekend sped by in a blur. I managed to finish Craig Johnson’s newest Longmire mystery, Next to Last Stand, so that daughter #1 could take it home with her. It was very enjoyable and, as usual, it made me want to pack it all in and move to Wyoming.

I could live here.

(At least part of the year…It does get cold in the winter.)

We worked more in the basement and found more Beanie Babies–monkeys!

We sorted through other boxes of toys and books and games. The wee babes are making out like bandits with new found treasures every week. A snow globe with penguins for Lottie…

…and this c. 1990 Little Tikes “sanitation truck” for the bud were huge hits this weekend. (We were missing the garbage man, but we found a substitute.)

This old wooden train is always a fave.

We are making progress. In one backward step, we went to an estate sale and bought some books (!) for which I have no bookshelf space, but c’est la vie.

When the wee babes came over on Saturday (their parents were going to a party–outside with social distancing, I’m sure) we watched Aladdin (1992) after playtime exhausted us. I had not seen it in probably 25 years. It was no doubt too intense for three-year olds, but they had already seen it, so I am not responsible for traumatizing them. Lottie put a blanket over her head during the scary parts.

When the babes went home, we finally got to have our weekly margaritas and relax. They were very much appreciated.

Sunday afternoon I listened to some podcasts and worked on my elephant needlepoint. One podcast I am listening to and enjoying is Poetry For All with Abram Van Engen, who is an associate professor of English at my flyover university, and another professor from Illinois Wesleyan University. This podcast is not just “for those who love poetry, but those who feel hesitant about it, even those who dislike it altogether.” Try it; you might like it! I find that poetry is good for what ails you.

It is going to be a stressful week for me and I will take it one day at a time. Amen. Praise God.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.

Lamentations 3:22-24

*Seamus Heaney, “Digging”

6 Comments
September 8, 2020

For so the swallow and the sparrow sings

by chuckofish

You don’t believe
by William Blake

You don’t believe — I won’t attempt to make ye.
You are asleep — I won’t attempt to wake ye.
Sleep on, sleep on, while in your pleasant dreams
Of reason you may drink of life’s clear streams
Reason and Newton, they are quite two things,
For so the swallow and the sparrow sings.
Reason says ‘Miracle’, Newton says ‘Doubt’.
Aye, that’s the way to make all Nature out:
Doubt, doubt, and don’t believe without experiment.
That is the very thing that Jesus meant
When he said: ‘Only believe.’ Believe and try,
Try, try, and never mind the reason why.

Well, I hope you had a good long weekend. Mine was lovely and I feel that I accomplished a little bit too. There’s nothing like a trip to the recycling center to lighten my step.

Today is the birthday of one of my heroes (and a non-relative) Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (1828-1914). He is best known for his gallantry at the Battle of Gettysburg, for which he was awarded the Medal of Honor. Following the Civil War, he served as Governor of Maine and the President of Bowdoin College. 

We will toast him tonight. I am happy to say that I have been to Gettysburg and was able to cross that excursion off my bucket list several years ago. I hope I can cross something else off my bucket list this year, but chances are looking slim. Year’s end is quickly approaching, after all, and I am starting to think about Christmas. Amazing.

As always, we like to listen to Steve Earle’s fine song about Colonel Chamberlain and Little Round Top on his birthday. We’ll toast Steve too for managing to rhyme “Chamberlain”:

4 Comments