A Quick Follow-Up (that ended up being longer than I expected)
Although I had been considering the song Why?, by Tracy Chapman, for a while, that last post was written rather hastily. Apologies that it may have been a little heavy-handed, and maybe you didn’t need any more unsolicited political commentary in your inbox. Sorry, my intent was to be relevant.
Also, I should have included an additional antidote—needed even more so now. This song is a soothing balm for me and is foundational to my worldview (and the reason I use the business name Imagine Better): Imagine, by John Lennon.
We have to imagine beyond this lifetime, and we will need all the strength, wisdom, love, and joy we can muster to collectively show up for each other through the immediate future. Poetry is part of my sustenance, and publishing this newsletter is part of my joy. I invite you to explicitly define your own sources of joy and find ways to access them regularly. In our current culture, joy is transgressive. It is a part of maintaining our humanity. And therefore it is activism.
On to Today’s Poem
I love some of the phrases in this poem by Traci Brimhall, as well as the overall message about paying close attention to the non-human world. Though I chose this poem months ago, I recently visited Joshua Tree National Park in southern California, and so the tiny flowers that seem to sparkle in the desert sun; the moss, lichen, and grasses; and especially the yucca and the juniper are all prevalent in my awareness at the moment. I also observed how vegetation has greater opportunity to flourish in places where precious water runs—however infrequently—such as at the mouth of the canyon.
Mouth of the Canyon, by Traci Brimhall
This poem makes me think of Mary Oliver in a number of ways. It begins as if in the middle of a conversation: “And still everywhere the little lives.” It evokes wonder, curiosity, and reflection to not only observe the natural world, but to look there for life lessons. “Let’s go be alive like that,” with “thunderous passions” and in “communion” with others.
Ants are spiritual pilgrims, not an army. The mountain is a bride with a “dark rain veil” (my favorite metaphor). The wind is a daily wooer of “the shy juniper.” And rattlesnakes come out at night to assuage their loneliness under the stars. This is not anthropomorphism driven by a human-centered worldview but by a need to connect and witness and even proselytize the Oneness of Life.
May it be so.
Love,
M
Learn more about Traci Brimhall.