So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings
open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks
of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.
Then, not for the first or the last time,
I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is
that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed
back into itself--
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate.
And especially it is wonderful
that the summers are long
and the ponds so dark and so many,
and therefore it isn't a miracle
but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body
into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.
-- "Heron Rises from the Dark, Summer Pond"
by Mary Oliver
This Mary Oliver poem is from her collection entitled, "What Do We Know":
http://www.amazon.com/What-Do-We-Know-Poems/dp/0306812061/ref=sr_1_25?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1247312396&sr=8-25
I rediscovered it this week after talking with the rector of the church where I attended mid-week service. Two years ago, she and her partner had a formal blessing of their relationship. During the service, this poem was read.
I love the line, "see how the clasp of nothing takes her in."
So, what is making your summer wonderful?
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 07:42 AM
Matissta is still under the weather, so I walked over to her house and walked Huckleberry this morning. Let me tell you about it.
On the way over, I ran into a senior citizen, affectionately known to the residents of Ridge Road as "Peg Leg," not because of her walking disability (which is why she race walks every morning -- good for her!), but because she snarls at everyone. She's really mean. We all tend to walk a wide arc away from her when we glimpse her snarling our way. This morning, however, she SMILED at me and said, "Good morning!" She was wearing a t-shirt that said, "Gray is the new Blonde."
So I walk the dawg, check on Matiss, feed the dawg, and while walking home, run into my senior citizen friend, Hazel (one of the few African-Americans in my community) and her dog, Millie. She tells me that she has to move because two men (a gay couple) moved in next to her and smoke all the time. She has lupus. She has asked them not to smoke in the yard, at least, but they haven't stopped. She asked me if I could help. Anybody have any advice about this?
Then, I run into a young woman walking an ancient dog who takes a leap at me, undoubtedly because he can smell the dog biscuits in my left pocket. I learn his name is "Nittany" and that the young woman and her father are Penn State graduates and go to football games, etc. Well, you all know how much Penn State means to my own dad. She was raised in Erie, PA. Me, not far away in Slippery Rock, PA. Lovely connection, I'm thinking as I feed biscuit after biscuit to Nittany.
Then I notice her t-shirt. It says, "Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure" and in larger print: "I am a survivor." Seven years ago, this young women got breast cancer. Every year since then she has participated in Races for the Cure in Washington, D.C., New York City, Boston and Pittsburgh.
Her name is Stacy. I added it to my post-it prayer pile.
That's just the past 90 minutes, sistas and mistas. ALREADY, a wonderful summer day.
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 07:57 AM
The Mary Oliver poem captures the take-off of a heron perfectly. The only other birds that I have seen fly as gracefully are cranes and condors. Condors don't really fly as much as they soar. They fall forward off whatever high thing they are on and as they fall unfold their huge wings to catch themselves and they sail off down the canyons. I gasp when I see it like I did when I was a child and the woman would let go of the trapeze and fly through space before she grabbed hold of the man on the other trapeze. Beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful.
As to Hazel, you only have her side of the story. If you want to intervene, then talk with the "gay" guys who live next door. If her complaints seem valid, then decide how much effort you are willing to put in this issue. (Personally, I think there's more than smoking as an issue.)
Don't you have some sort of community group to handle problems like this? Isn't there a residents' council?
Posted by: half-a-sista | July 11, 2009 at 09:38 AM
Love the trapeze memory, half-a. I can picture it myself.
The gay couple live across the street from me, and I sometimes hear their parties. I've known Hazel longer than I've known them -- never met them, actually. Hazel is a kind soul -- in fact, Jersey ran into Hazel and Millie last weekend. We do have a community board. I'll talk to the community coordinator, or whatever that title is, to see what can be done. Hazel is afraid to approach them again -- apparently she's spoken to them three different times.
A person living in the unit next to mine (with the owner) has been a problem for me with his smoking and his abuse of the visitors' parking spaces (he owns three cars). He's also verbally abusive to the owner. Plus he's some sort of whacky shaman. Don't get me started. Sometimes neighbors can be a real pain in the butt. But, for the most part, I have great neighbors.
Hey half-a -- how has your summer been wonderful so far?
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 09:47 AM
Wonderful isn't the word I would use. Interesting is more like it. I always laugh when I say, "Interesting" because of that ancient Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times." I've learned a lot, had some hard times, had some blissfully happy times, but mostly life goes on in a gentle way. How about you and the other sistas and mistas? How has your summer been? Interesting?
Sounds like those guys are a problem for the community. Maybe the community board has had other complaints about them.
You told me about the shaman next door and his main devotee (your neighbor). Shaman, my ass. He sounds like an opportunist who can pull his shamanic practice out of his ass when he needs it to intimidate people. Don't drink any Kool-Aid he offers you.
Posted by: half-a-sista | July 11, 2009 at 09:57 AM
Not to worry, I ain't drinking the Kool-Aid. Also, I think he's completely intimidated by me. I taller and bigger than he is. He looks like a very spindly Woody Allen, though not as good-looking as Woody Allen. Trust me, I can kick his shamanic ass. I really care a lot about my neighbor, though, which makes this all very tricky.
I love your line, "mostly life goes on in a gentle way."
Thanks for asking about the other sistas and mistas.
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 10:05 AM
Wanted the sassosphere to know that this is our 450th post!
Further, on Thursday, we posted our 11,000th comment!
And yesterday, we surpassed 140,000 lifetime views!
WHAT A WONDERFUL SUMMER!
Love and gratitude to all.
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 10:13 AM
On what planet did Mary Oliver find "summers are long"? Sorry, I guess that spoils the tranquility of the moment you were going for. It is a gorgeous poem, and one of my favorites, but that line doesn't work for me. Even though it's virtually always summer here in FL, the summers seem dreadfully short to me.
We are homebodies in the worst way. I'm determined to get the boys out on bikes today, and intend to bribe them with the promise of free slurpees at 7-11, given today's date.
Sorry Matissta is not feeling well. Give her my love. I'd bring the TLC if I was there.
Posted by: babysis | July 11, 2009 at 12:08 PM
I'm heading back over as soon as I type this comment. Just got off the phone with her. She didn't sound good. I'm bringing plenty of books, my iPod, Vitamin C . . . and your love.
Maybe from the heron's perspective, summers are long.
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 12:27 PM
Oh, boy - for me, summers are overlong. Then again, I'm in Fla as well. I would strongly prefer to be in some cool climate (dreaming of Ireland, Scotland, Maine, Vermont...), so that's probably why summers are too long for my taste. Planta likes the heat, so here I am.
I LOVE the egrets & herons & cranes we get to see here (we've even been lucky enough to see the whooping cranes once!). They are so lovely & stately - almost always make my breath catch as they take flight and the thought crosses my mind, "Hello, Beauty". Then again, I'm a bird geek, so what's not to love?
What's wonderful about summer? Hmmm, regret to say I'm having to work hard to come up with a positive - how about this, the kiddo is leaving tomorrow for three weeks of camp! Yay!! (it's a good thing, I've been ready to clobber him for his attitude lately)
Sorry to hear Matissta is still under the weather. Her cold sounds pretty sincere - promise the doctor will be visited if this doesn't abate?
I take it you live in some kind of townhome/condo association - it sounds too close to be single family. I'd definitely go to the board, if that's the case. Can't blame Millie for the way she feels - smoking nearly ruined our trip to Vegas, it seemed like it was everywhere! My respiratory system still hasn't recovered...
And congrats on all the wonderful Sassistas! milestones - a testament to the good work and community here!
Posted by: Chrysosistah | July 11, 2009 at 02:15 PM
By the way, that's a WONDERFUL photo you found to go with this poem!
Posted by: Chrysosistah | July 11, 2009 at 02:16 PM
The miraculous happens in the common things and is made no less so by that fact. The heron seems by a miracle to lift itself and leave us in awe and yet does so day after day of the long summers.
Greeting our neighbors and their dogs day to day is common but our decisions to engage and the resulting connections are miraculous.
Mine is a miraculous summer because, after a long period of isolation, I am reaching out and engaging people around me: old friends, lost roommates, family, community organizations. It's like the "opening up of the heavy body into a new life".
Posted by: Jerseysista | July 11, 2009 at 02:26 PM
Good afternoon, everyone. I tried to post earlier this morning, but had a few technical difficulties, most of my own making and in my own mind.
Anyway, I love Mary Oliver's poem and the photo. Having been a 30 year resident of a little bayside community, I used to spend many an hour walking along the river, and could easily identify with Oliver's words:
And especially it is wonderful
that the summers are long
and the ponds so dark and so many,
and therefore it isn't a miracle
but the common thing -
but now I am transitioning to living an urban life. Recently, I found my urban parallel to those walks by the river. I am walking the city, with camera in hand, taking pictures of what I perceive to be urban art - murals, graffiti, yard art, interesting buildings, gardens, etc. I took a bunch of pictures this morning, and posted them in albums on facebook. My goal now is to take a walk every day, camera in hand.
Yes, a wonderful summer.
Hope you feel better, Matiss.
And Jersey, we talked at that diner in PA about your decision to begin reaching out. A decision well-made. Isn't it wonderful to begin life anew as a fifty-something year-old? There is a freedom that comes with the years, a freedom from worrying about what others may think, a freedom to just be who we are. Go for it.
Ok, let's try to post once more today!
Posted by: treesta | July 11, 2009 at 05:29 PM
I do believe it posted. YEAH!
Posted by: treesta | July 11, 2009 at 05:30 PM
Yay, Treesta!! Glad it posted!
Your comment to Jersey reminds me of this very interesting book I keep seeing on isabella.com - Crones Don't Whine, Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women by Jean Shinoda Bolen, Md. I'm not quite in that age group, but it's just around the corner for me...sounds appealing!
Posted by: Chrysosistah | July 11, 2009 at 08:02 PM
lol. Don't know if I'm a juicy woman or not. I just know that I feel more content in my own skin than I ever have. And it feels pretty good.
Posted by: treesta | July 11, 2009 at 08:09 PM
Hey, 'sphere. Finally back home after a day of nursing. Matissta feels much better. Did my heart good to see all the sass that was shared while I was away from a computer. Thank you.
Glad you could post, too, treesta. Need to see some of your photos.
I'll be back in the mornin'. I'm kind of wiped out. Plus I'm walking the dog again first thing. Sweet dreams everybody.
Posted by: Flannista | July 11, 2009 at 09:21 PM
Mornin' sassosphere.
Walked dawg. Showered. Matissta is feeling well enough to go to church! Then to a mall so I can get a better pair of exercise shoes since I'm now running instead of biking.
We watched two movies yesterday: "Wanted" and "The Score" (Marlon Brando's last film). A lovely afternoon with Matissta stretched out on one end of the couch and me sitting at the other. We called Carolyn for some doctorin' advice. The Doc was in and the Doc was good.
Am presently listening to the soundtrack from "Revolutionary Road" which I just burned for the Doc.
Another wonderful summer morning.
Posted by: Flannista | July 12, 2009 at 07:58 AM
This poem is so poignant and perfect for me to read right now ... and the picture, too. A great blue heron lives on the little lake in northern Wisconsin. One blessing of summer is to see it, either flying or standing perfectly still, camouflaged, at the shoreline. This year I did not see it, until one day, I looked out the window of the house, and there it was standing on the cement path by the dock, looking out, as if to decide whether to take a boat or fly this time. It lifted and flew.
But the poignant part of the poem for me today is this:
Then, not for the first or the last time,
I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is
that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
Last Tuesday, my dear friend's daughter-in-law (a mother of grade school age children) died suddenly when a large blood clot blocked her heart valve. Her physical end was swift. My friend arrived home last night after the small family memorial. She tells me that she is sure of life after death. Stronger in her faith now for having touched it. I'll give her this poem.
Today I am leading a Buddhist meditation group. We have a discussion as part of our practice. I will offer this poem as an opportunity to discuss the gifts of summer and/or the Buddhist teachings on transcending birth and death.
Thanks Sistas for the gift.
Posted by: PEACEsista | July 12, 2009 at 09:32 AM
Oh, PEACE, how sad! Very moved by your post - glad her passing was swift, but Oh! How untimely!
I'm sorry she will be missing so many "firsts" in her children's lives, and I'm sure they will miss her as well. However...I agree, I'm quite convicted that we live on, that our spirits survive and grow beyond the grave.
Not to be a total Potter geek, but this quote rang very true to me:
"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love." - Albus Dumbledore
Posted by: Chrysosistah | July 12, 2009 at 10:55 AM
PEACE -- am back from church and running errands.
How sad for your friend to lose her daughter-in-law so suddenly. I'm so grateful that this poem can offer some solace during this tragic and tumultuous time for her. I'm grateful, too, that we can be a part of your Buddhist meditation group today.
Today Matiss and I visited a church that I suspect will become our new spiritual home. Rather than reciting the traditional Nicene Creed after the sermon (which I can't say in good conscience) the congregation instead recites, an "Affirmation of Faith." The last part of it is:
"We believe in God's Spirit of Truth,
bringing to fruition all that has been given:
gentle as a breeze or shocking as a storm,
we will allow God's gifts to be stirred to life in us;
breathing, laughing, living in our world,
so all may know of God's harvest of love."
That Spirit is indeed gentle as a breeze or shocking as a storm. Transcending, as PEACE says, birth and death.
The heron's peace to all.
Posted by: Flannista | July 12, 2009 at 02:23 PM
Also, Chryso -- the more you quote from Harry Potter, the more I think I need to read beyond the first volume!
Posted by: Flannista | July 12, 2009 at 02:25 PM
Ohh, LOVE that affirmation! Is it an independent church, or affiliated?
And, yes, Flannista, I heartily recommend the series, she does a wonderful job of knitting together a complex, moving, suspenseful (sp?) story - just love it! (the movies do NOT do the books justice, as usual)
Posted by: Chrysosistah | July 12, 2009 at 02:52 PM
I've had a very interesting year. Completely interesting. I was trying to think of a word to capture how I was feeling the other day and I realized it was "heavy." I felt very heavy, like gravity had a grip on me that it wouldn't let go. Being strangled by it. Summer is normally my favorite season but at the moment it feels oppressive, not celebratory. Just in this moment, that I know will pass.
PEACE, I hear your friend's loss. And the way it touches you.
The only thing I can suggest for the smokers is a squirt gun. Maybe some small children who could be recruited?
Posted by: Westsista | July 13, 2009 at 02:18 AM
Love the squirt gun idea, West. Just love it. Plus, I've already got those super soakers with extra ammo tanks.
You aren't the first person to confess that the year, so far, has felt "heavy." I've wondered if it has to do with the economy, in some way; that national "malaise" that Jimmy Carter gave a speech about 30 years ago.
So sorry, though, that you feel oppressed. Wish I could be there to do some heavy lifting for you.
Posted by: Flannista | July 13, 2009 at 05:37 AM