From "A Perfect Mess" by Mary Karr

It’s not law but the sprawl
of our separate wills that keeps us all flowing.

A reminder when I needed it

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.


Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.


Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.


Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.


Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.


Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.


You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.


Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive [Her] to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.


With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.




-Max Ehrmann, Desiderata

From "Age Appropriate" by Philip Schultz

In other words, when evicted from

a strange lobby into a stranger street,

where every scaffold is full

and bodies dangle in the long

blue sorrow of the afternoon,

without context, explanation, or sympathy,

it’s good to know, even momentarily,

how to live, among the relevant,

    the passionate, and the confused.

From "January Drought" by Conor O'Callaghan

I have reservoirs of want enough  
to freeze many nights over.

"Grandma's Outside Painting Moonscapes"

Well I did it

I made something and I shared it, and I'm pretty sure it went well

Good way to start the new year


Also doing morning planks and squats and pushups on the rug in front of the refrigerator

Also eating one large grapefruit, two fried eggs, and a gluten free muffin for breakfast, hot off the skillet

Also coming home famished after five hours of sharing what I made, eating curry and salad and relaxing into a release more than a month in the making 

Also dozing on the loveseat at the end of the day, Wilson tucked into my left arm and Hanna curled under my right

Also walking sleepily to the bedroom, snuggling under the blankets and around the soft warm animal of his body

Also showering with the almond-and-peppermint holiday soap, upturning my face to the hot water, scrubbing off the grime accumulated over the last 12 months to make way for a year of courageousness

Nematode

They're wild for me in France.

Because nearly every utensil I own is being corraded in the miniature dishwasher below the two burners, I use the handle of a large slotted serving spoon to stir almond milk into my dandelion root tea.

I have been thinking about it and I don't think I can forgive that easily, even though I have tried on several occasions. It isn't sticking and I'm still really mad.



Last night I dreamt I was a child and I was with a couple of other children and we pushed open the door of the darkened dispensary and ran about reading labels and exclaiming over fantastical products. Then I was my adult self again, and I was quietly placing a few items on a high rotating shelf so that I could come back and purchase them when the dispensary opened again tomorrow.

What I remember next is shopping in a large, fluorescent-lit shop and then being harassed by two young boys as I exited past the red plastic carts. One of them threw something at me, and when I turned to admonish him he rammed a cart at me, full speed, while his friend laughed. I barely managed to swing my ankle away from the cart, and the boy continued trying to ram the cart into my legs even as I exclaimed that I was recovering from a severe ankle injury, and could he please stop.

Next he and I were walking across the moving bridge, only he had not warned me it would be moving, such that I stumbled and fretted with my heart in my chest as steps inexplicably dropped out from under me. I paused and reached for the railing to catch my breath, only to have the whole railing drop away in the split second before I leaned all my weight on it. At that point I started to yell at him--for taking me on this bridge, for not informing me that it would be moving, for not warning me before the railing dropped away--but before we really got into it the section we were on shot up into the air, leaving my stomach somewhere on the grass hundreds of yards below us.

I don't know how we escaped that contraption, but somehow we were on the ground and the dispensary owner--a woman, around my age, dark-haired pixie cut--was hurrying across the field toward us. She gave us each an envelope containing large checks and I don't remember what else, as well as a gigantic, hunter-green sled-bike with a metal basket. I placed my envelope into the basket right before the sled-bike slipped our grasp, careened across the snow, through the busy intersection, and into the parking lot on the other side of the street. I was relieved to see that no one had been hurt--including the sled--but my relief came too soon. As I waited for the light change that would allow me to cross the busy intersection, a young mother hustled her daughter up to the bike-sled, climbed aboard, and started peddling furiously up the road.

I took off after them on foot, calling out to them to stop! stop! The light saved me--she had to pause and I reached the bike-sled and grabbed its basket just as the light changed to green again. Please, I said, just let me get my envelope out of the basket. She had placed reams of her own papers and envelopes in the basket, which made finding my own more difficult. As seconds ticked on and I still hadn't found it, she started trying to peddle away. I grabbed onto either side of the basket, shoved backward, and told her this was my sled-bike and if she didn't want to deal with me, she could deal with law enforcement. She got significantly more agreeable after that and, if I remember correctly, she may have ushered her daughter away from the sled-bike. I don't recall ever finding the envelope.

Nude descending a swimming pool

Last night I dreamt I was a teenager again and that I showed up to swim practice without my suit on. I got into the pool stark naked, with the nagging feeling that something was off. When I realized the issue--that my co-ed teammates were all wearing speedos and I was completely nude--I sidestroked over to the coach to let her know. She said so long as I was comfortable I was welcome to stay for practice. I said I was perfectly comfortable; I just didn't want to make any of my teammates uncomfortable. So she told me to stay, and I did, freestroking and flipturning with the best of them, only I remained completely naked and they all stayed in their swimsuits.

At one point the coach asked me to pause my laps so she could point out an alignment issue with my shoulder. She pressed into the tight spot above my bare left breast that has been tender ever since my lung collapse. I thanked her for the adjustment and swam on. As I and my lane mates caught our breath in the shallow end, the nasty adolescent girl (who had witnessed the coach's adjustment) accused the coach of pedophilia. I said, Listen, I am a survivor of child sexual abuse--in response to which the nasty girl's eyes lit up, and she demanded, WHO? I told her, It was more than one person, and I'm not going to say who. I am also a certified rape crisis and domestic violence counselor. And I can assure you that our coach is not acting like a pedophile toward me. I guess that shut her up, because the next thing I remember is kicking off the shallow end's wall and hoping the cute guy from the boy's team noticed that I made it the whole way across the pool without coming up for air. 

Gradually the water started to go out of the pool, such that I'd swim to approximately 10 feet away from the deep end's wall only to discover the water level was several feet below where it should be. I'd kick with all my might, launching myself out of and above the water and propelling my arm into the wall.

I wanted to keep swimming even after the rest of the team had pulled themselves dripping from the pool and headed to the lockers, but when I turned to face the lane there was nothing but a few inches of water left in the pool. The coach pulled a cleaning cart up to the edge of the shallow end and informed me that I and the cute guy from the boy's team would be in charge of cleaning the locker rooms. This didn't seem to bother me; I asked a few clarifying questions, pulled my naked body from the pool, and went to survey the girl's locker room, my heart beating in my chest as I anticipated the arrival of the cute guy, who seemed equally enthusiastic to help me clean up.