April is finished. I need a break from the daily poem for a while, time to let the words deepen before I spew them out onto the screen.
1. The car did start on Saturday night. In the parking lot after the play, I saw that Pippi the Prius’s lights were doing a weird blinky thing, and she was making a parping sound, like she was on some sort of alarm–I don’t know whether she has any such features. I pushed the unlock button several times and she settled down, but when I tried to start her, she was on the lowest battery bar, and she just turned herself off. I called AAA, but after the call, I tried turning her on again, and she purred to life. Her battery bars were really low, but she slowly recharged herself, so I cancelled the AAA call and went home. Because she’s so different from anything I have ever driven, I didn’t feel like I even had the ability to assess what’s wrong.
2. One boy is writing a report on Dave Brubeck for music class. Yesterday afternoon, I realized that the thing he’d been humming all day was “Take Five,” and that the odd clicky thing he does with his tongue was marking some of the stressed beats. I’ve got a kid who genuinely likes Brubeck–we’ve done at least one parenting thing right.
3. Yesterday’s sermon: The Disruption of Healing. There’s a lot to think about in there. Do I really want to be healed? I have gotten pretty comfortable with the status quo–healing/growing/becoming requires change and change can be itchy and painful. But my healing is bound up with the healing of others, with the planet. So we forge ahead. We push for new growth. We shed the old dragon skins.
4. The ways stories hatch. Maybe I will grab the momentum of this one and get it onto paper before it fades. I need to listen to my own advice. I am really good about telling students to write down their ideas, to play and tinker with the elements of a story, to fearlessly jump into it. I guess I had better put my money where my mouth is. . .
5. You. You who read my blog, you who notice a flash of color or a beautiful set of words and point it out, you who cast your nets of compassion out into the world, you who make that almost alchemical connection between idea and word–putting thought into hearable form, you who twinkle when you smile, you who think deeply before you speak, you who chatter and chuckle and keep everyone happy, you who feed others, you who hold babies, you who strive and strive.
Much love! May we walk in Beauty!