I Rise

Not Going To Be Silent

I will do my best to use my voice and my actions to uplift and support the values of mutual respect, common decency, true liberty and true justice for all.  KAS

In the Waiting Room

Elizabeth Bishop, 1911 - 1979

In Worcester, Massachusetts,
I went with Aunt Consuelo
to keep her dentist’s appointment
and sat and waited for her
in the dentist’s waiting room.
It was winter. It got dark
early. The waiting room
was full of grown-up people,
arctics and overcoats,
lamps and magazines.
My aunt was inside
what seemed like a long time
and while I waited I read
the National Geographic 
(I could read) and carefully 
studied the photographs:
the inside of a volcano,
black, and full of ashes;
then it was spilling over
in rivulets of fire.
Osa and Martin Johnson 
dressed in riding breeches,
laced boots, and pith helmets.
A dead man slung on a pole
--“Long Pig," the caption said.
Babies with pointed heads
wound round and round with string;
black, naked women with necks
wound round and round with wire
like the necks of light bulbs.
Their breasts were horrifying.
I read it right straight through.
I was too shy to stop.
And then I looked at the cover:
the yellow margins, the date.
Suddenly, from inside,
came an oh! of pain
--Aunt Consuelo’s voice--
not very loud or long.
I wasn’t at all surprised;
even then I knew she was 
a foolish, timid woman.
I might have been embarrassed,
but wasn’t.  What took me
completely by surprise
was that it was me:
my voice, in my mouth.
Without thinking at all
I was my foolish aunt,
I--we--were falling, falling,
our eyes glued to the cover
of the National Geographic,
February, 1918.

I said to myself: three days
and you’ll be seven years old.
I was saying it to stop
the sensation of falling off
the round, turning world.
into cold, blue-black space.
But I felt: you are an I,
you are an Elizabeth,
you are one of them.
Why should you be one, too?
I scarcely dared to look
to see what it was I was.
I gave a sidelong glance
--I couldn’t look any higher--
at shadowy gray knees,
trousers and skirts and boots
and different pairs of hands
lying under the lamps.
I knew that nothing stranger
had ever happened, that nothing
stranger could ever happen.

Why should I be my aunt,
or me, or anyone?
What similarities--
boots, hands, the family voice
I felt in my throat, or even
the National Geographic
and those awful hanging breasts--
held us all together
or made us all just one?
How--I didn’t know any
word for it--how “unlikely”. . .
How had I come to be here,
like them, and overhear
a cry of pain that could have
got loud and worse but hadn’t?

The waiting room was bright
and too hot. It was sliding
beneath a big black wave,
another, and another.

Then I was back in it.
The War was on. Outside,
in Worcester, Massachusetts,
were night and slush and cold,
and it was still the fifth 
of February, 1918.

Remember Who You Were

Remembering gets more and more important and elusive with aging.  I hope my memory remains intact enough to remember who I was before the world got its hands on me.  KAS

Triumph Like A Girl-For Victoria

How to Triumph Like a Girl

Ada Limón, 1976

I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!
But mainly, let’s be honest, I like
that they’re ladies. As if this big
dangerous animal is also a part of me,
that somewhere inside the delicate
skin of my body, there pumps
an 8-pound female horse heart,
giant with power, heavy with blood.
Don’t you want to believe it?
Don’t you want to lift my shirt and see
the huge beating genius machine
that thinks, no, it knows,
it’s going to come in first.

Happy Birthday, Victoria!  

Miracles?

I looked for the author of this gem and found "anonymous".  In my world and in this case, anonymous means some wholehearted, generous and forever unrecognized woman living out her life spreading this kind of beauty and wisdom with her words and her presence. The world is full of anonymous and I salute every one of you!  KAS

Suddenly

Sharon Olds, 1942

(Ruth Stone, June 8, 1915 - November 19, 2011)
 

And suddenly, it’s today, it’s this morning
they are putting Ruth into the earth,
her breasts going down, under the hill,
like the moon and sun going down together.
O I know, it’s not Ruth—what was Ruth 
went out, slowly, but this was her form,
beautiful and powerful
as the old, gorgeous goddesses who were
terrible, too, not telling a lie
for anyone—and she’d been left here so long, among
mortals, by her mate—who could not,
one hour, bear to go on being human.
And I’ve gone a little crazy myself
with her going, which seems to go against logic,
the way she has always been there, with her wonder, and her
generousness, her breasts like two
voluptuous external hearts.
I am so glad she kept them, all
her life, and she got to be buried in them—
she 96, and they
maybe 82, each, which is
164 years
of pleasure and longing.  And think of all 
the poets who have suckled at her riskiness, her
risque, her body politic, her
outlaw grace!  What she came into this world with,
with a mew and cry, she gave us.  In her red
sweater and her red hair and her raw
melodious Virginia crackle,
she emptied herself fully out
into her songs and our song-making,
we would not have made our songs without her.
O dear one, what is this?  You are not a child,
though you dwindled, you have not retraced your path,
but continued to move straight forward to where 
we will follow you, radiant mother.  Red Rover, cross over. 

Today

  Quiet as a feather. Cushion time is critical.   KAS

Selects Her Own Society

The Soul selects her own Society (303)

Emily Dickinson, 1830 - 1886

The Soul selects her own Society —
Then — shuts the Door —
To her divine Majority —
Present no more —

Unmoved — she notes the Chariots — pausing —
At her low Gate —
Unmoved — an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat —

I’ve known her — from an ample nation —
Choose One —
Then — close the Valves of her attention —
Like Stone —

c. 1862

They Handled It

I raise my glass to all of you who handle it.  There is great work yet to do.  I will do my best to contribute to the cause.  KAS

Strength To Laugh

As you can probably tell, laughter is a theme these days!  As I've said before, I don't agree that nothing is worth more but I respect Frida's thoughts on the subject. 
Here is another of her quotes: "“I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of ‘madness’. Then: I’d arrange flowers, all day long, I’d paint; pain, love and tenderness, I would laugh as much as I feel like at the stupidity of others, and they would all say: ‘Poor thing, she’s crazy!’ (Above all I would laugh at my own stupidity.) Here is a link to some of her art.  KAS

Excerpt from Ballad

She Learned to Laugh At The Mirror

Pondering Pool

I confess.  Laughing is not the first reaction I have to seeing myself in the mirror but I'm working on it!  I've decided to notice those moments when I feel extreme discontent or irritation and turn them into something comedic if at all possible; even if for myself alone.  KAS

Laugh!

I wish there was more to laugh about.  I vow to begin focusing my attention on finding humor in the things that currently annoy me.  KAS  PS.  I don't agree that it's the MOST important thing. 

Love Yourself Til Then

When I first saw this there was no credit given for the author.  I was grateful for Google as it easily led me to the name of the person who originally wrote these thoughtful words.  KAS

Master Thoughts, Master Life

For me, this is a life long enterprise.  Being exceptionally well trained to focus on what's wrong instead of what's wonderful; it calls for intense vigilance, enormous amounts of patience, and practice, practice, practice.  KAS

If Nothing Ever Changed

And what would we do without butterflies? KAS

You Should Be Doing Something Different

Clearly, it pays to have a sense of humor!  KAS

Wonderings

I love when someone provides a different way of seeing things.  Banish regrets.  Banish mistakes.  Wonderings is so much more kind and true.  We do the best we can with what we have to work with at the time.  KAS

Slavery Shaped Us

This is an important point.  May we be courageous enough to realize this truth and expand our hearts to do the hard work of recognizing and reconciling the grave injustices of our own human history.  We can do better.  We must do better.  Most of us are doing better.  Let's continue toward a more just and equitable world FOR ALL.  KAS 

What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

Because how one remembers things is always true, right?  KAS

Nobody's Perfect

Our Life is Our Accomplishment

Design my life from the inside out.  What a concept!  Since I am the one who knows best what I need for a successful life, doesn't it make perfect sense?  KAS

Fighting to Find I Know Not What

Lee Krasner was a remarkable American painter with a body of work spanning many decades.  I knew nothing about her until recently.   To keep going with two-three years of "gray mess"?  That's an inspiration to me especially knowing she could not articulate what she was seeking.  I admire her tenacity, courage, and strength as an artist and a human being.  KAS

Only Silence Helps

I find the soft murmur of the woods or my garden can be comforting during these times. KAS

Trust Love One More Time

Especially when outside forces seek to manipulate and separate us from our decency, our civility, and our humanity. I will gather my courage and trust love one more time. KAS

Something Risky-Something Human

Reading Ninth Street Women is giving me a whole new perspective and respect for artists.  Mary Gabriel does a masterful job of conveying what it means and what it takes to do art.  This post is in honor of someone who exemplifies this beautifully.  Happy Birthday, Jim. 

The Catastrophe of Grace

A magnificence of words.  KAS

Who You Are Lasts A Lifetime

A very tall order for someone who leans heavily in the direction of letting them have it when I feel it's deserved.  This calls for maturity and grace which I can only aspire to.  Don't look for them anytime soon.  KAS 

I'd Say Go To Hell

I must read more of Sylvia Plath!  KAS

Have Regards for the Inner Voice

If you don't know Lee Krasner follow this link.  I only recently learned of her although I certainly knew much about her husband.  Sigh.  She was a power in her own right and should be remembered so.  KAS

The Song of My Heart

A follow up to yesterday's post.  Sometimes, silence is the song in your heart.  KAS

Sing Anyway

Make up your own song if you have to and belt it out, even if it's off-key. Or hum it softly in the closet.  Just sing.  KAS

Instructions For Living A Life

What astonishes you?  I'm astonished by how good a hug feels from the right person at the right time.  I'm astonished by the resilience of human beings faced with unbelievable challenges. I'm astonished by the Monarch Butterfly.  I'm astonished by the beauty of a crocus blooming in the middle of the yard.  KAS

Practice The Best Ways To Be Wrong--Fail Forward

Practice the best ways to be wrong?  What a concept!  When growing and evolving is your target, what better way to hit the mark?  Go fail at something important.  It's good practice. You'll be back stronger!!  KAS

Think Your Best Thoughts, Speak Your Best Words, Work Your Best Works

Go. Be. You!  KAS

When You Know You Are Of Worth

Happy March, my friends.  I'm going to pay attention to when I raise my voice.  KAS