if morning must come

                                                    

 For the Artist at the Start of the Day

~ John O'Donohue ~

May morning be astir with the harvest of night;
Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,
Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse
That cut right through the surface to a source.

May this be a morning of innocent beginning,
When the gift within you slips clear
Of the sticky web of the personal
With its hurt and its hauntings,

And fixed fortress corners,

A Morning when you become a pure vessel
For what wants to ascend from silence,

May your imagination know
The grace of perfect danger,

To reach beyond imitation,
And the wheel of repetition,

Deep into the call of all
The unfinished and unsolved

Until the veil of the unknown yields
And something original begins
 
To stir toward your senses
And grow stronger in your heart

In order to come to birth
 
In a clean line of form,
That claims from time
 
A rhythm not yet heard,
That calls space to
A different shape.

May it be its own force field
And dwell uniquely
Between the heart and the light

To surprise the hungry eye
By how deftly it fits
About its secret loss.

its suspected he's reading a magical book series that never ends...o to be a gnome

dirty laundry

a vivid memory remains in this newly forgetful brain of mine. i remember being taught how to operate the washing machine and clothes dryer. two adults and four children sharing a home adds up to some serious piles of laundry. our laundry room was in the basement. it was dark there. it was cold and scary. but i was thrilled to be given this very adult knowledge.  finally i was deemed mature enough to operate appliances! the truth is, my mother couldn't keep up with it on her own and frankly just needed us to wash our own damn clothes. the first few times down in our strange smelling underground basement i maintained that tinge of excitement. one day i realized i was merely doing laundry. it was a chore and it was not fun.

fast forward to present and you would find me with just that slight new adventure glow of one who lives in the "big city" and has to go to the laundromat. a magical place where (if i'm to believe television and movies) philisophical conversations and romantic song montages are acted out.  the first time is so strange and new it doesn't seem like an item on the to-do list.  then comes the day i fight for a dryer. the moment i realize my quarters are still at home...catch the creepy guy staring at me as i show the world my dirty underwear. the moment arrives when it's just a chore to get done and i can't even do it in the privacy of my own home.