Thank you.

And a metaphor for life

Friends,

We’ve had a handful of lovely days lately, and I’ve enjoyed laying in the porch listening to the birds, and scanning for little signs of Spring.

Alex Dawson’s daily prompts also have me returning to poetry!

I’ve shared a couple on Notes (here and here in case you avoid the infinite scroll), along with a backlog of quips and reflections from the stillness. Reading everyone’s responses has been the closest thing I’ve felt to community in a while. I deeply appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read, reflect, share, and subscribe.

Recently, I remembered a poem I wrote in February 2020 about a canvasser for The Nature Conservancy. I was on my way home from a divorce mediator, where I decided to keep the ‘peace’ as a means to keep my one and only dog, George, with me.

This poem is about the brief but life-changing connections that help us survive seemingly impossible times. (If you’re here, chances are we’re that to each other.)

Thank you.
In a sea of people trying to save themselves
He’s trying to save the world.
He approaches me
Gently, quietly
Like an apology
I look at his clipboard and tell him
“I’m having a bad day”
Like a question
My inflection asking to be held.
He says “Ok, let’s just talk about that.”
It breaks my heart open to remember
The simple moments that kept me here.
“Can I offer a metaphor?”
He continues,
“If someone gave you $80,000,
And then took $1,000 back,
What would you remember?
The gift or the loss?
Well life is like that, 80,000 memories
1,000 of them is a drop in the bucket
Which are you going to focus on?”
“I think I’ve lost more than 1,000,” I joke
But this one expands to fill the empty space
I can live in it for a while.

If you liked this story, please consider a small donation to The Nature Conservancy. They’re doing wonderful things, and they also send wonderful quarterly magazines, which I’ve been using for my foray into collage. 💚

New Section Alert!

Pieces that stopped me in my tracks —

Tornado by megan falley, wife of the late luminary Andrea Gibson. A beautiful, heartbreaking reminder to bless the mess. I need it tattooed on the inside of my brain.

Live Every Day Like It’s Your First by Suleika Jaouad. The way Suleika writes about this gentle reframe is everything. Also: two senior Chihuahuas and a writing ritual to prime your mind for possibility. There’s truly something for everyone.

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Thank you (!), as always, for being here,
Lisa