OUR MOTHERS, OURSELVES--

This weekend is Mother's Day and we're bound to be thinking about the person who mothered us.  You know about my mother; she's the Nina Naomi I dedicate this blog to. Her memory is alive in me, and I talk to her often.  Since her death in 2005 I've had to provide her responses too.  It's not a fraught relationship.  Before she died, I told her, "Mom, we have no issues."  

And of course, many of us are mothering someone ourselves.  Before my son died too young, he said, "Mom, no son ever loved a mother more than I love you."  My most precious gift.  And I had issues aplenty with that headstrong boy.  But from boyhood he was quick to give and forgive.  I think my daughter's sons are the same with her. 

A writer in the New York Times (Jancee Dunn) asked readers to share moments when their moms were right. This response resonates:

After my first child was born, my mother put her hand on my arm and said, "Honey, you have breathed your last free breath."  And she laughed--in a kind, not a bitter, way.  Her words meant that I was now to know love so consuming that every second of the rest of my life would be spent in fear of loss.  I feel connected to her knowing that we have shared this deep and meaningful terror.  Shannon Kilgore

I don't know how young we are when we learn the fear of loss.  Some younger than others.  The children of Ukraine are learning too soon.  For the mothers of all those murdered in America the terror comes true.  Such is life, so far, in this 21st century.  

But what else is important in this mother's advice?  She said it "in a kind, not a bitter, way."  That's what mothers do.  They let us know about the world, how it will be for us.  They don't do it harshly.  They want us to be kind and not bitter too.  They know that only great love gives rise to great fear, and they want great love for their children. 

Another reader response brings solace: 

I once asked my mom, "What am I ever going to do when you are gone?"  She said, "Exactly what you're doing now."  I was startled by the simplicity.  In a few words, she let me know that life would go on and I would be fine.  Mary Ellen Collins

When I feared losing my own mother, she said to me, "I had the best mom in the world, your grandma, and I've done just fine."  I knew she was right, on both counts. 

This graduation/Mother's Day weekend I hope your heart is where it needs to be.  That whatever our history we have found love and peace.  And if we need to give or forgive, we can do that too.  In love, 

Nina Naomi 

   

I TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND LISTENED TO MY HEART.

Berthe Morisot, Two Girls (1894)

Thoughts for the day:

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.  I am, I am, I am," Sylvia Plath (1932-1963). This American poet and author succumbed to depression at age 30, when there were fewer tools to help.  But we can see that she was trying to save herself with her words. Her cry is important. "I am" is a promise, to ourselves and to those who love us. Many years ago, a 19-year-old friend took his own life.  We never forget the first death of someone in our generation.  I wrote in my Diary then, "I am to live."  That helped me to differentiate my emotions from his, which seemed important to me, so young myself.    

Now I know that we can help love ourselves into repair. This is something that happens slowly as we accept our feelings. Think about this:  God gave us each of our feelings and all of our emotions. There is nothing about us that God did not create as part of our humanity.  Nothing about us that we have to suppress, including negative emotions.  Goodness, don't we all feel bad sometimes?  Lonely or misunderstood?  It's not just OK to sit with our emotions; it's best.  We can let whatever is in our heart breathe.  Grief is the most demanding emotion of all.  Fear second.  They have to be felt. 

Being kind to ourselves every day is a requirement of life. This takes many forms, as we know.  For me, I talk to my mother whenever I need to, even though she is no longer alive.  My father did too, because she died 10 years before he did.  When someone has loved us, we keep their memory alive as a comfort or guide.  

I try to honor those anniversaries that are sad as well as happy.  One in particular in my life causes sadness, anger, grief and confusion.  I try to live with that.  In direst times we look for ways to make a tapestry out of the unraveling of life.  We don't want to fear our feelings.   

We want to take a deep breath and listen to our heart. 

SO MUCH ROOM FOR KINDNESS

 

With so much going on many of us need to be kinder to ourselves.  For many kindness to others comes naturally.  We're parents, teachers, health-care workers, pastors, good neighbors, volunteers, caring spouses.  Our days are not relaxing or self-centered.  Firefighters, power-line workers, doctors and nurses are all trained to work 24/7 for the good of the community. They choose that job.

Then why aren't we kinder to ourselves?  We might feel that kindness to ourself makes us weak or self-indulgent. But studies show that's not so.  Studies show that self-compassion and inner strength are linked.  

Especially when we feel inadequate or insecure or are in emotional or physical pain, it's important to be tender with ourselves.  I might feel inadequate to affect the changes the world needs, offering only lamentation and prayer for Ukraine, for school shootings, for the girls and women who need abortion health care.  I might feel insecure about something personal:  for me my gait--which is no longer an arm-swinging stride--makes me self conscious; or becoming older, which equals less relevance. 

Someone else might feel insecure about their education, or underemployment or job loss; or their children's achievements or their own. Look at what we've learned about how social media affects self-esteem.  Or a trauma has left us in emotional pain.  So many reasons to need gentleness.  At the extreme are people with suicidal ideation. Hardly ever sure that they want to die, but certain that they don't want to continue living in such pain, emotional or physical. 

How do we get rid of the feelings that we aren't enough or that we are alone in the world? Certainly conventional therapies and medications.  But other tools too.  Mindfulness helps us make friends with ourselves.  In pottery class I made a tile decorated with a little acorn and the saying, "Nothing is missing; you are already whole."  Any hands-on skill  is a way to show ourselves kindness.  Anything where we disappear into what we are doing.  

Self-compassion doesn't mean turning away from what hurts.  It means turning toward it and asking ourselves, "What, dear friend, do you need in this moment?"  It's warm, and yet both gentle and fierce--the way we protect a child, or pet, or the vulnerable--anyone who needs us to stand up for them.  

I love the idea of softening toward ourselves.  We should sleep that way, in an embrace that shows love.  My husband sleeps like that, yes hugging me, but also hugging himself when I turn to my other side.  I tease him, but he wakes renewed.  

Let's never loose these ways of healing.  Earlier today I published a post written out of pessimism. I'm accepting that emotion.  What do I need when I feel that way?  What do you?  This post was sitting, waiting to be completed.  It lifts my soul to think how we can both face whatever we have to and show ourselves kindness at the same time.  In that way we remember how to be kind to others as well.         In love, Nina Naomi

 

 

 

SURPRISE--A SILVER LINING

 

           “You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming.” Pablo Neruda.

Oh my, hard to believe--a silver lining.  I've been looking for one and today, voilà. 

Remember the quote from Margaret Renkl in the Post of Mar 11, 2022?  

In this troubled world, it would be a crime to snuff out any flicker of happiness that somehow leaps into life.

Well, here's another flicker of, aptly, happiness about happiness.  

The annual World Happiness Report (WHR) has just been released. You know, the report that finds Finland "the happiest place in the world" each year? (Or at least the last 5 years.)   If you've forgotten how it works, the WHR is authored by independent experts who compile the results of a global survey of people from more than 150 countries.  It's published by the United Nations.  

Our ranking has never been high, with low institutional trust and steep income inequality affecting what we see as our best possible lives. But we did modestly rise from 19th to 16th this year which, given the darkness of the times, may be more meaningful than it looks. 

After all, like memory, happiness is elusive.  And two years of pandemic readjustments have disrupted people's feelings.  Yet worldwide, people's overall positive emotions have continued to be more than twice as frequent as their negative emotions. Measurements of laughter, enjoyment, and learning or doing something new, lead measurements of sadness, anger or worry 2 to 1.  

And where sadness or worry did increase, in 2020 during the first year of the pandemic, anger did not.  We stood together.  We worried together.  We were sad together.  We were not angry with one another, and this is worldwide. We the people ignored political finger-pointing.  If laughter decreased, it was more than made up for by learning or doing something new.  All those hobbies, recipes, and new or recovered skills raised our happiness quotient.  We weren't simply staying afloat, much as it seemed some days. Working from home made us happy.  Even having the children home did. Even (or maybe especially) not working did.

Historically Canada, Australia and New Zealand, countries with social safety nets, measure high in life evaluation and remained so.  But the real surge, for the whole world, was in simple kindness.  Sewing masks, volunteering for clinical trials (not a small thing), checking on neighbors, gathering family and friends outdoors or through Zoom, providing free services . . . .  The ways of stepping up have been as varied as we are.  In every region of the globe during 2020 and 2021 strangers helped strangers more--a whopping 25% more.  Everywhere donations, volunteering, and selflessness increased. 

Why is this good news, other than the obvious?  Well, because positive emotions promote optimism, resilience, and increase our ability to adapt to future challenges.  In other words, they're not just an end in themselves.  They carry over into tomorrow.  

The pandemic has cut many flowers.  Lives, education, jobs are like a meadow mown.  But spring came anyway.  It's here and in bloom. 

 

SHOW YOURSELF SOME KINDNESS

"Show Yourself Some Kindness" is the name of an article in a magazine I like called The Simple Things.  As we enter the third year of the pandemic that's a good idea.  And on the anniversary of the insurrection in the capitol building in Washington, DC--the lowest point in recent US history. 

This date gives context to anything we might say; it can't be ignored.  Franklin Roosevelt called Dec. 7, 1941 a date which will live in infamy.  He was referring to the bombing of Pearl Harbor which preceded the entrance of the United States into WWII.  We can say the same of Jan. 6, 2021.  

So with this backdrop . . . it seems that most of us have experienced some level of suffering lately. And not just something as extreme as the suffering and fear caused by the attack on our democracy a year ago.  We're all affected by the strictures of living in a pandemic. After all, bouncing from variant to variant does feel like Wack-a-Mole.  

And it's not like that's all that's happening in our lives either.  Some of us have SAD, seasonal affective disorder. Some are in the midst of divorce; some, fitting chemo into their lives; or struggling to feed their families.  The list is long. Nothing has slowed normal losses.  Life has never been easy. 

At the same time, the abundance of goodness and beauty also cannot be denied.  Leaves turn, snow falls, birds sing, day breaks, sunsets dazzle.  People help eachother.  Life goes on.  And although we've learned that nothing is perfect, nothing lasts and nothing is finished, life is about finding what's special in the day-to-day.  No matter how imperfect each day is, we almost always find something good in it.  Just the idea that imperfection is fine, including my own, makes me breathe easier. 

So what is OK?  Everything, really.  Our lives as they are.  Just a few good friends is OK.  Or even none.  It's OK to have a pet and be calm and rest in that unconditional love. It's OK to be content with whatever you have, even if what you have wakes you in the night.  Anxiety is OK;  Fear is OK; so very normal.  So is abundance.  

How to show ourselves kindness?  So many ways.  Think of saying "Thank you" to you.  For instance, we can thank our bodies for all they do.  We can thank our bodies with exercise, with yoga, with water and with healthy food.  And with rest.  When things are worrying, it's OK to curl up and mother ourselves.  

We can thank our minds too.  By gazing at the stars, watching the sunset, walking in the cold winter darkness, reading poetry (or writing it); anything we do that is creative.  Creativity rewards our minds for all their hard work processing everydayness.  Creativity puts our minds in a state of flow where, experts say, the ego falls away.   Whatever we do where time is immaterial is flow.  Turn on the music and dance?  Paddle (or swim), each stroke building on the one before?  Write in a journal?  Spend time with a child? 

And our spirits of course.  They are ready for nurture.  Reading, praying, meditating, consoling.  On this the one-year anniversary of the insurrection President Biden gave a stirring speech about the lies that led to that blasphemy. My heart is saying Thank You to him.  And to all who fight these lies. Truth frees the spirit.  

This is not such a touchy-feely post.  Today's date doesn't lend itself to that.  But it is about kindness. Let's direct it first toward ourselves, next toward others. In that way goodness and mercy may follow.

                                                            Nina Naomi

  

 

GOD WITH US

 

Ideas to Lighten Our Load

Some weeks we carry something too heavy: our emotions.  Fear, worry, doubt, sadness. Emotions can be our mountains.  Let's ask our God to climb our mountains with us.

Unhelpful thoughts are also heavy.  But thoughts aren't facts.  Have you noticed that when we don't fight them or coddle them they evaporate? Soon we're thinking about something else. That's how we're made.  What a blessing.  

We can rejoice that each day begins anew.  A fresh dawn, another glorious chance not just for the birds but for us as well.  We have survived the night.  Each morning is a birth day and for those we give thanks. When I open my eyes I give thanks for the daylight, the life out my windows, the person by my side. And so much more.  Parse it out.  What can you be grateful for as the sun rises?

Another help is acceptance. Our strengths and our joys easily, but also our losses and griefs . . . .  I have troubles; so do we all.  I am grieving; but perhaps you are too.  Or, my day is going well; yours too?  Life is so much easier when we accept the whole human condition. We can fashion our prayer, "Lord help me accept this."  Or, "Be with me now." 

Some goals can't be reached, for whatever reason. Often we can change the goal. I changed my work goals often.  My family goals too. And when we can't change the situation, we can change ourselves. The question is, "From this, what may I ask?"  You never go backwards.  Even setbacks move you forward.

Forgive yourself for what you did not know before now.  This is important, isn't it?  How many parents don't need to hear this? 

It's good to name our strengths and tell others theirs:  "You are brave. You are strong.  You are kind."  To myself: "I am brave.  I am strong.  I try every day to listen and be kind, to myself and to others."  "We are both enough."  If you're alone, just repeat, "Nothing is missing.  I am already whole." 

Mindfulness focuses on the acceptance of an experience.  Compassion focuses on caring for the person having the experience. Self-compassion is a shadow of God's comforting mercy.  Self-compassion says, "Be kind to yourself when you suffer."  This is a lesson well-learned.

Uncertainty is fine but let it not be about God.  "In God We Trust" is more than just the national motto on our coinage.  Some of the things in each of our lives defy a moment's peace, a second's happiness.  Yet joy abounds. The joy we thought would never fill our hearts again is the peace that passes all understanding. Who can explain it?  Always a surprise when we take the time to notice.  A gift from God alone.  The One in whom we may trust.  

Who am I to give advice, as it were?  Only a child of God.  That's all we need to be. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LIFT YOUR SPIRIT WITH THE SUN

Photo by Ellieelien

Sometimes we awake with unbidden thoughts.  Something that can't be undone, the very definition of the past.  Our waking minds can do that, fasten on a memory we can never account for; the unanswered "Why?"  One of those life-before and life-after events.  They're almost never good.  If big events are good they become part of the welcome continuity of our lives.  If bad, they become intrusive thoughts.  If this never happens to you, rejoice and be glad.

But if it does, here are some better ways to start the day (I speak from experience).  First, remember that thoughts come and go; they never stay.  Lie there and your mind will veer off somewhere else:  the birds outside, the dog who needs attention, a child stirring, that first sip of tea or coffee . . . .  Whether an unwanted thought is circling or not, I often awake with my husband's arm around me.  His comforting arm reminds me of the goodness of our life.  If someone is in bed with you, move closer.  Feel their body warmth.  

But alone is good too.  Burrow into the sheets.  Stretch.  Listen for the sounds of the morning.  Being on our own can be emotionally peaceful.  I have a friend whose single life is way more adventurous than mine.  Hard to admit, but when my children were at a difficult age I used to fantasize about what a life (or day) with no strings must be like.  

If you wake in darkness, guess the time.  Listen for rain.  Check the clock and decide.  Rise or turn over? If it's time to rise, maybe begin the day with a lovely splash of water on your face, and some cream to sooth your skin.  I start the kettle and let out the dog. If I grab my phone I turn to my meditation app, not the news.  Or my prayer journal.  Sit by a window with your drink and watch the daylight spread.  Are you up too early and must plan for a nap or an early night?  

If there's time to write, then nothing better.  I keep little prompts.  One might be, what in the past year have you discovered you can't do without?  I can't do without morning tea, reading in bed at night, a sanctuary bath, working outdoors, bare feet, wild flowers, feeling loved . . . .  It's a way to start the day thinking of the simple things that make us feel blessed.  Or this one, more unexpected:  what are your favorite messes?  Mine are the house after company leaves; a rumpled bed after a good night's sleep; a field too high because the daisies are in bloom; my craft table; the Christmas decorations spread out waiting to adorn the tree.  More blessings disguised as simple things.  

So what do you do to begin your day with kindness to yourself?  To lift your heart and spirit with the sun?   I bet you've thought of ways just right for you. 

By Emma Rose Tait

THE FEARSOME POWER OF WORDS

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  John 1:1 

It's possible that nothing is more important that words. For good or for ill.  Words can affirm, encourage, heal and restore.  Or they can break, destroy, humiliate and hurt.  Feelings change and pass; thoughts meander and disappear.  Anyone who's tried meditation knows this; try to focus on the breath and thoughts wander in and out.  Let them go; come back to the breath.


But words stick.  They remain. They're not ephemeral.  They don't dissipate like clouds.  Once said is always said.  Many of our traumas are based upon words.  "I remember when you said . . . ."  Out of a thousand kind words we will remember the ones that wound.  They are so powerful that one sentence can awaken our deepest insecurities, insecurities we didn't even know we had. 

"Kind words are like honey, sweet to the soul and healthy to the body"  Proverbs 16:24  What would love be without words?  Whispered words that stroke like hands, words that we need and seek from the moment of our birth until our death. A soft voice, a touch, tender words.  That's why one of the tragedies of this virus is that those who succumb have to die alone, without words of love or blessing. Years ago my husband's father died alone working in his allotment, shovel in hand.  How much better for my husband and his mother when they could pray together before she died.
   

The power of words is so strong that we don't have to use many to cause deep happiness or profound sadness.  Words can reveal a misplacing of love, a promise broken or a duty ignored.  They don't even have to be spoken to you.  You can overhear them, read them, find them. . . .  Some words, found or spoken, can root you to the spot:  "How will I live now?"  "The earth is opening and I'm falling in."


We say that actions speak louder than words but I don't think so.  I think they go hand-in-hand.  After all, speaking is an action.  Remaining silent when words are needed is an action too. First the words, then the deeds that support them. Apologize with words that admit having done wrong.  Show remorse by doing whatever is possible to heal the hurt caused by the wrong.  And when the hurt is slow to fade, continue to find words and deeds to assuage it.  

Why think of this today?  Well, for one thing, today there is more time to think. This post has been waiting half-formed for weeks.  For another, we are all isolated with someone.  Isolation fatigue has set in; self-discipline is not a virtue that comes easily.  Unkind words may be hovering, or have been said.  

So let us find the right words.  Strangers on the phone have said to me, "I hope you're OK."  I've said the same.  We're not just saying, "Have a good one,"  the phrase that's come to mean, "Keep the line moving."  I think we actually mean it.  

 





 

FEEDING THE GOOD WOLF

You know the story of the two wolves?  A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson.  He said, 

"I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart.  One wolf is vengeful, angry, lying, arrogant, greedy and mean.  The other wolf is loving, serene, truthful, compassionate, generous and kind." 

His grandson asked him, 

"Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?"  

The grandfather answered, 

"The one I feed." 

Given the way things are, I feel like I'm hearing this story for the first time.  A story that reminds us of the power we have over our experiences and emotions. 

It's easy to feel like a victim in challenging times.  I was talking with my cousin.  She reminded me of the generations that lived through the Great Depression and World War II.  Before that World War I and the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic, an influenza that lasted 3 years and infected a quarter of the world's population.  Since then the Vietnam and Civil Rights generation.  We could add the Black Lives Matter the #MeToo generation and now COVID-19.  It's our turn.  That doesn't make us victims, it makes us human.  

My mother, the Nina Naomi to whom I dedicate this blog, was named after two beloved family members who both died in the 1918 pandemic, a mother and baby together.  Generations later my cousin was named after all three of them.  One year she and I put down the top on her convertible and visited all the family graves in St. Louis that we could find, including that mother and child. We had the best time!  We were feeding the good wolf.  When I reminded her of this the other day she said, "Wouldn't all those people have loved it that we were visiting them?" 

For the most part I think we are all feeding the good wolf.  We recognize that when we self-isolate we are saving more lives than our own.  We act out of self-interest, yes, but we know that our interest serves the greater good.  We are taking personal and communal responsibility.  

I'm reminded of the battle so many face against cancer.  I overheard a patient say, "I've got a year of fighting in my path.  I have to look at little things as big things and big things as little things."  We understand that.  We are doing that now everyday as we learn how the coronavirus takes no prisoners.  My husband washed the windows today; this became a big thing; I am so grateful.  We will be able to see the sun streaming into the bedroom in the morning without the haze of pollen.  The small becomes large.  

By choosing to spend our time and thoughts in ways that keep us healthy we feed our good wolf. The patient in cancer treatment mulled it over, "Yes, I've got a tough year ahead, but I plan to smile everyday because a positive attitude is sometimes the only thing I have."  How brave.  The good wolf is winning; I would like mine to win too.  
                                                                      Nina Naomi

 

THAT BRIGHT VEIN OF GOODNESS IN US ALL

Well, I finished the 8-week Cultivating Kindness Meditation Course at Duke Integrative Medicine.  Just in time.  The news today is more corona-virus shut-downs. Oh my.  What could be more stressful?  We are all a bit on edge.  Or worse.  Yesterday in a drop-in meditation class the program director announced "closed until further notice."  Our college student has been sent home to finish the semester. Clearly more kindness can't hurt.  

Our class had long-time practitioners and newbies, moms and a dad or two, an emergency room physician, a young widow, a librarian, retirees, people who traveled far and locals like myself.  Did the course make us kinder?  Thankfully 🙏 judging ourselves is anti-loving and kind. But yes, I think the practice of meditation is helping me better understand and connect with myself and others.  

So, here is a little of what I've been learning (and unlearning) so far.  You may know it all already. But with some things I am grateful for repetition; perhaps you are too.     

• Meditation isn't a religion.  It can be faith-based or secular.  In my practice I am daily brought closer to God. But that's not everyone's practice. 
• It doesn't require special skill or background.  If you can breathe you can meditate.
• It only takes whatever time you give it.
• It doesn't eliminate sadness, difficulty, grief or pain.  It does teach new ways of coping with these.
• It isn't an attempt to zone out, stop thinking or focus on only positive thoughts.  That's not humanly possible. 
• It is a way to recognize our thoughts and relate to them more skillfully.  Stress, anxiety, pain or depression become more manageable, allowing us to make better decisions.  The result is we feel safer, more confident, calmer. 
• Meditation helps us respond, rather than react, to what is happening in our lives. Or in our minds.
• The concentration we learn restores our energy unlike distractions that deplete it.  
• Meditation is not self-indulgent or self-centered.  We learn about ourselves but what we learn we apply to others.  

Mindfulness the same.  Mindfulness is an attitude, meditation an action.  Neither is a withdrawing from anything, not fun or careers or politics or anything else.  We have all the skills we need for mindfulness at our finger tips.  It's always available to us. 

Specifically, in the loving kindness meditation the anchor is not the breath but a repetition of traditional phrases.  Our class read the book Real Happiness by Sharon Salzberg.  I'm not drawn to the title; happy seems almost too trivial for what we were learning.  I'd choose "at peace" or "content," wider umbrellas than happiness--although one can give rise to the other. The book includes such traditional meditation anchors as "May I live with ease," but in class we were encouraged to create our own.  For painful times I like, "With God's help, may I remember that my life is vaster than this moment."  Or, "With God's help, may my care for myself and others protect and calm me."  Better yet, from our liturgy the prayer "Help, Save, Comfort and Defend Me Gracious Lord."  You could think about what phrases might work for you.  It's a pleasant task, creating a phrase that we'd want to return to. 

Salzberg talks about "add-ons," those unhelpful threads we follow from a painful physical or emotional experience.  Projections into the future that add mental anguish on to what is already difficult enough.  She shows how mindfulness can restore balance, teaching us to observe all feelings of whatever intensity with curiosity, interest and compassion. To watch them come and go. To recognize that we are not our feelings.  

I especially like the idea during these chaotic times of thinking of kindness as a strength, not a weakness.   
                                        In peace, Nina Naomi

"SMALL KINDNESSES" BY DANUSHA LAMERIS

                                      Small Kindnesses

              I've been thinking about the way, when you walk
              down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
              to let you by.  Or how strangers still say "bless you"
              when someone sneezes, a leftover
              from the Bubonic plague.  "Don't die," we are saying.
              And sometimes when you spill lemons 
              from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
              pick them up.  Mostly we don't want to harm each other.
              We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
              and to say thank you to the person handing it.  To smile
              at them and for them to smile back.  For the waitress
              to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
              and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
              We have so little of each other, now.  So far from tribe and fire.
              Only these brief moments of exchange.
              What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, 
              these fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here,
              have my seat," "Go ahead - you first," "I like your hat." 
                                                       by Danusha Lameris

What do you think?  Do you like this?  The author is poet laureate of Santa Cruz County, California.  It's wonderful to me that Santa Cruz County has its own poet laureate. I know that the US has a poet laureate and that North Carolina does, as other states do.  And about a dozen national governments, including Great Britain.  I even knew that the poet Petrarch was crowned Poet Laureate in Rome (in 1341 but I didn't know the date), hence the term "laureate."  My own little corner of the world has its Piedmont Laureate (www.piedmontlaureate.org), not necessarily a poet, but someone who promotes the literary arts in the schools and community.  For a US county or city or Borough (Fresno, CA and the Borough of Brooklyn for example) to want poetry as part of its identity is encouraging I think.

After all, look at Lameris' poem.  I read an analysis by another poet, Naomi Nye, in the NYT magazine (Sept. 19, 2019).  She says that the poem breezes compliments and simple care, is a catalogue of small encouragements and celebrates graciousness within the community.  One reader's comments caught what I bet many of us feel.  She wrote, "When I read this poem everything around me softened for a moment."  Yes, me too.  

The poem makes me especially think about interactions between women, how we chat with strangers and affirm each other. I feel like I can say that without fear of contradiction.  How many times haven't I received a compliment on my mustard-yellow hobo bag? Or my little peep-toe flats that tie with a grosgrain ribbon?  If your tag shows someone just might tuck it in for you.  Or pick-up something you've dropped but not noticed.  I like it that when you hear a "Bless You" from a neighboring carrel it means "Don't die."  We're not saying that literally of course, but the history of the courtesy shows how long we have been caring for one another.   

Small kindnesses always stand for something more, something unspoken:  our needs, our gifts, how we navigate the rigors of life.  As an English teacher once, someone who can find solace in John Donne or Emily Dickinson or Mary Oliver, I am glad to now be acquainted with the Poet Laureate of Santa Cruz County, CA.  I'll start with The Moons of August (2013) and go from there.  

     What's gone
     Is not quite gone, but lingers, 
     Not the language, but the bones
     of the language.  Not the beloved,
     but the dark bed the beloved makes
     inside our bodies. 

I can't wait to read more of this poet.  "The the dark bed the beloved makes inside our bodies."  Wow.  Can language get better than that?  Such an unexpected blessing found today.  
                                                    Nina Naomi