31 July 2015

30 July 2015

About resting badly

for Liz, who is probably right

"You're doing it
wrong," she says
on Facebook in what
I imagine is the aggrieved-
affectionate tone the
Bloggess' long-suffering
husband Victor uses
when he says it to
her.  I think she's right
because other people
would not encourage
resting so much if it
did as much damage
to them as it somehow
does to me.  Does
anyone know where
I could learn how to
safely rest?  Are there
classes for this sort
of thing?  I can't see
the solution as: stop
resting because being
exhausted is bad
enough, but it's worse
when I add resting-
related injuries to the 
mix.  There must be 
a way for me to learn 
how to rest more 
safely.  Maybe
if I practiced it 
as often as I am 
supposed to, I 
would be 
at it?
It can't

28 July 2015

it takes two

you need two
teeny tree frogs
to get through
the day
two great friends
to get you through
the night.

27 July 2015

why I'm writing this July off as a loss

Two things I learned this July:

  1. Classical music can be hazardous to your health.
  2. Resting can be dangerous.

26 July 2015

I just wish it had happened AFTER I shifted the books

I suppose it was
inevitable that I
would trip and fall
on the hammock

because no blessing
has lately come to
me not accompanied
by cursing. This

is why resting has
not been particularly
restful for me

24 July 2015

Brahms like clouds

I was trying to figure out why 
I kept thinking of clouds when 
I listened to A German Requiem, 
and I think it's because, 
in the Requiem, Brahms
--like those majestic 
piles of middle-high 
refuses to be 

23 July 2015

first tree frog fairy sighting

Yesterday was the first day
I spotted a tree frog  clinging
to the third story window.

I was afraid they were not
coming this year, since I
had not seen any in June.

Maybe they come this late
every year with the cicadas,

and, like everything else
these days, I just forgot.

It's good to see them again
this year always every time.

22 July 2015

Can I have an open sing of Brahms' German Requiem instead of a funeral service when I die?

When I die, instead of a funeral service, I think I would like to have an Open Sing of Brahms' German Requiem (in English, since few of my friends understand German).  It should be conducted by someone with the intensely dramatic, passionate enthusiasm John Hoffacker brings to it (make sure there's nothing above him in reach).  If the soloists could be as good as Justin Staebell and Kristin Morant, it would be amazing.  Since I am not rich and because it's worked pretty well all the times I've done it, I'd recommend all volunteer orchestra and choir with my friends mixed in with whatever voice part they want to listen to (a hard choice since they've all got good stuff) and right up against the orchestra because that makes it even better than a recording.  I might recommend Hamline United Methodist Church, which is a physically and sonically beautiful space, (and so there can be an organ).  I'd like to request a harpist, too.  This is what I would like because this music is so powerful that even when all the instruments aren't there, and nobody can get all the way through the end of the third movement right, and my voice is shot before we finish the rehearsal, which should ruin everything for me and make me miserable during the performance, being a part of the words and the music and the skill with which they were assembled by Brahms and pieced together by an orchestra and choir leaves me with joy, hope, confidence, and peace in the love of God and the place He's prepared for His people to rest.  Those are the kinds of things I'd like people to go away from my funeral carrying.

21 July 2015


I had forgotten a game
I used to play when I rode
down tree-lined sidewalks
where I would sit up as tall 
as I could to try to brush 
the overhanging leaves with 
my bike helmet.  Now that I
do not have to be hunched, 
deliberate, and slow when
I ride, I remembered and
played it again today.
Everyone who plays this 
game is a winner.

20 July 2015

on a beautiful day in summer

I am trying not
to let it matter
that I can no longer
remember the color
of the spring blossoms
on the backyard
crab-apple tree
of my youth.

18 July 2015

the first thing

The first thing I liked about this home 
was the pink tree out front in full bloom. 
Not that pale pink kind, though that 
is lovely, too, and not 
the really dark, deep 
pink but the middle-darkish 
pink that smells of heaven and keeps 
it's fruit all year round, so it is 
beautifully dressed even in the winter 
when the other deciduous 
are only 

17 July 2015

First anniversary

On this, my first
anniversary of owning
a home, I am grateful
that I have this space
to inhabit and infuse
with blues and greens
and peace and rest.

02 July 2015

To the white moth perched on the only part of the ceiling that is not white but red

To the white moth perched on the only part of the ceiling that is not white but red:

You are beautiful
and baffling.  Perhaps

you should stay inside
where it is safer and

your inability to use
your camouflage is less

likely to get you
killed and eaten

by something more
grateful for your

mistakes at fitting in
than your success

at standing out.