I like peacocks.
funny conversation with elise yesterday:
elise: i got my cap and gown. if you were graduating with me i would wear my swimsuit underneath with you.
marae: why would we do that?
e: you always wanted to, remember?
m: oh, weird. why would i want to do that?
e: i don't know, it's like "haha, i'm just wearing my swimsuit and you don't know it."
m: yeah, kind of like, "haha, i'm naked under my clothes." i think i'll name my blog that. i'm naked under my clothes.
e: nooo-ho-ho way! i would disown you.
m: why, because i'm naked under my clothes?
e: that's gross!
haha. when i write it it is not that funny. but, she was quite aghast at the idea. i think she thinks i am a little unruly sometimes. notice that my blog name is still after rain (and duck feathers), though. i suppose i still want elise to own me.
i have got to start going to bed. 4:30 is an unacceptable time under almost all circumstances, and i'm just staying up reading and writing and playing guitar. i also may have glen to thank for bringing the dark chocolate party over, which i had in lieu of dinner. never fails to keep me up.
well, since my brain is too tired to work, i will leave you with some current favorite poetry by rumi. rumi was a 13th-century persian philosopher, mystic, and scholar (not to mention, a man). i think that part of the reason i like his poetry so much is that i read the words of a man who lived 750 years ago and sometimes think, "heeyyyy...i wrote that." not that i did, but his old-man thoughts are remarkably similar to many that i've had. anyway, here are a few...
this being human is a guest house.
every morning a new arrival.
a joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
welcome and entertain them all!
even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
he may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
my worst habit
my worst habit is i get so tired of winter
i become a torture to those i'm with.
if you're not here, nothing grows.
i lack clarity. my words
tangle and knot up.
how to cure bad weather? send it back to the river.
how to cure bad habits? send me back to you.
when water gets caught in habitual whirpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. there is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can't hope.
the hopers would feel slighted if they knew.
look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you.
little by little, wean yourself.
this is the gist of what i have to say.
from an embryo, whose nourishment comes in the blood,
move to an infant drinking milk,
to a child on solid food,
to a searcher after wisdom,
to a hunter of more invisible game.
think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.
you might say, "the world outside is vast and intricate.
there are wheatfields and mountain passes,
and orchards in bloom.
at night there are millions of galaxies, and in sunlight
the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding."
you ask the embryo why he, or she, stays cooped up
in the dark with eyes closed.
listen to the answer.
there is no "other world."
i only know what i've experienced.
you must be hallucinating.
when i am with you, we stay up all night.
when you're not here, i can't go to sleep.
praise God for these two insomnias!
and the difference between them.
the minute i heard my first love story
i started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
they're in each other all along.
more poetry later...time to revise resumes. yay, yay. bye!