Showing posts with label Spring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spring. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Begin It


One of the issues with having so many ways to fritter away one's time is that there is often inconsistency in doing any single thing.  I pick up one hobby, do it for awhile, then get distracted with something else.  In fact, right now I'm contemplating picking up the violin again, something I haven't done for at least twenty years.  Why I feel the urge to play the violin now, I don't know.  But that's what I mean.  Oftentimes I look at the things that other people do and think that I can do it too.  Run a marathon?  Sure, why not?  Get hundreds of followers on Instagram?  How hard can it be?  Write an amazing blog?  No problem.  But when it comes down to it, showing up daily or even regularly is hard work.  And from the date of the last entry on this blog (almost two years ago!!), it's something that I haven't been doing.  And ironically, one of the things I tell my students is that they don't have to be geniuses if they want to do well, but they do have to show up and do the work.

When I think about beginning again, it feels overwhelming.  How do I catch up on two years' worth of memories and ideas?  How many things have slipped through the cracks in the meantime?  Do I hit the highlights starting from 2013 or just jettison all that and begin again in the present?  In some ways, so much has happened in these two years and in other ways, nothing at all has happened.  I'm not sure about how to approach things, but I wanted to take inspiration from Goethe's words, which say that "Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness.  Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth...that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too....Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.  Boldness has genius, power and magic in it."  I'm just talking about writing a blog right now, but this is true for so many things.  Until we commit ourselves fully to something, someone, some place, the hesitancy that exists creates ineffectiveness and stagnation, a feeling of "stuckness" that simply doesn't have to be.  Instead, whatever it is we want to do, begin it.  Now.

I've just finished reading Ann Patchett's book This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, which is about marriage, yes, but mostly about writing.  And one of the tips that she gives on how to write is again both so simple and so hard.  She say, "If you want to write and can’t figure out how to do it, try this: Pick an amount of time to sit at your desk every day. Start with twenty minutes, say, and work up as quickly as possible to as much time as you can spare. Do you really want to write? Sit for two hours a day."  In other words, show up and do the work.  Nothing else.  So here I am.  And given that spring is the time for all things to begin anew, the timing couldn't be more perfect.



Beds prepped to go in March


Future peaches
The three sisters, corn, bean, and squash, ready to play

  
Figs doing their thing

Monday, April 9, 2012

Blossoms



Spring is busting out all over the place!  I think we've finally turned a corner around here.  The skies are a bright grey with tinges of blue rather than a dull flat grey and then there are the stretches of gloriously sunny weather and of course, blossoms and flowers budding and blooming everywhere.  All this life surging forth can't help but make me feel that this is what Lee speaks of when he writes "There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom."  A perfect time to celebrate new life, resurrection, and restoration.  Happy Easter!


From Blossoms

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward   
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into   
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
--Li Young Lee