Wednesday, 27 Aug 2014.
Today I spied things you just don’t see everyday . . .
like an elephant in a windowsill
and a gargoyle fiercely guarding a heart
and the Dublin Garden of Remembrance
. . . where there’s more room for flowers
Today I saw a painting by Vasarely
something that made me laugh,
and The Engineer going beyond the end of the path.
Today I saw me,
snapping a selfie
in the Ladies Toilet
of the Ireland Museum of Modern Art.
delicious holes that let the light in.
(Or maybe I saw delicious light coming in through holes)
and tree roots that beckoned me to come, sit a spell
and conjure up some stories.
I saw bowls.
beautiful, colorful bowls
that thrill and delight
(once you get close enough and have a look inside)
and make me think of my nephew Drew
and the piece he gave me
called The Improbable Pot.
(They also make me think of people,
but we can talk about that another day.)
in an exhibit at the Ireland Museum of Modern Art,
This stone whispered to me:
Choose me, because I am
old . . .
(tho new to you.)
Because I can be a bullet
or a border
or a doorstop
or a tongue depressor
or a flower
or even a golf ball in a pinch.
I can hold napkins down
and tell a story
and break a window
and hold my worries for me.
I won’t ever tell secrets
or roll away when I say something it doesn’t like
or add inches to my waist
or make rude noises.
because I don’t hold grudges
(I have no pocket for them)
or sing off key
or pass judgments.
Pssst. Choose me
because even though I have a tendency to
mirror the temperature of my surroundings,
I don’t ever try to be something I’m not.
That would be silly.(br>
So I chose this rock
for all these compelling reasons and one more:
I chose this rock because it has weathered storms
of unimaginable proportions.
It has endured
and has had absolutely no choice about anything
yet it still doesn’t act like a victim.
And once today,
I saw what some people
see all the time.
Today I learned that . . .
The original Mr. Guinness signed a 9000 year lease
and had 21 children.
(I think I know why they sell so much ale.)
Jonathan Swift, who had an inner ear infection
diagnosed long after his demise,
wrote Gulliver’s Travels
(here at St. Patrick’s Cathedral)
not for children
but for adults.
the naked body resembles
(Standing Nude by William Scott, 1954).
It was another good day
governed not by a to do list
but a see / feel / be list.