Every so often I stumble across or revisit some exceptional writing, verse and prose, that latches itself to heart and soul here and again, reminding me how perfectly life, time, and uncommon love can reassure. These two I share are favorites when heart is full, or heavy, or alone.
Isn’t it true
however far we’ve wandered
into our provinces of persecution,
where our regrets accuse,
we keep returning
back to the common faith
from which we’ve all dissented,
back to the hands, the feet, the faces?
Children are always there
and take the hands,
even when they are most terrified.
Those in love
cannot make up their minds
to go or stay.
Artist and doctor return most often.
Only the mad will never, never come back.
For doctors keep on worrying while away,
in case their skill is suffering or deserted.
Lovers have lived so long with giants and elves,
they want belief again in their own size.
And the artist prays ever so gently,
let me find pure all that can happen.
Only uniqueness is success.
For instance let me perceive
the images of history.
All that I push away
with doubt and travel,
today’s and yesterdays alike, like bodies.
—- Letters from Iceland, W.H. Auden
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
—- The More Loving One, W.H. Auden
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Do you have a favorite Auden piece? Share them below. It isn’t enough to just gaze. Let’s taste and savor up the emotions Auden stirs. Please.
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Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always
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Benton courteously poured my second glass of Shiraz-Cab vintage 2012 as his wife Vidal asked me again puzzled, “What do you mean they required a specimen?” A peculiar silence filled the room. Even the perky ears of their toy Cairn-Manchester-mix terrier snapped to attention waiting on my answer.
Professor: Well, it was a matter of life and death, at the very least, image.
Vidal: What did you do?
Professor: I looked right into the tech’s eyes and with polite confidence said, You’re going to need a bigger container. She placed her hand below her neck and with bigger eyes whispered faintly “Oh my!”
It isn’t every day that someone stumbles upon crude unrecognizable tools in the heart of Sasquatch country. The primatologist needed more proof. Can you blame him? How big do you think they are? What would you need?
This leads me to another moral-of-the-story…story.
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A mutual friend of Benton, Vidal, Delilah, and me, who was back in town visiting after moving back home to Kansas (no not Dorothy) is an adventurous curious lady I will call Ahmouray. We had gotten together for wine, snacks, and folly just for her and to hear the latest in her life. As it turns out the “latest” was a gentleman that restored old tractors and she had to immediately show us an iPhone picture of he and she next to his latest John Deere. Embracing each other with huge happy smiles, this tractor’s engine and wheels reached above their shoulders; massive! Ahmouray was obviously bubbly with excitement. You had to agree, Mr. John Deere had a big…
tractor.
Benton: How long have you known him?
Ahmouray: Two months. He is really sweet to me. It feels really right.
[Vidal is sulking trying to keep her lips tight]
Benton: Remember what happened to Mr. Wright #IV?– Referring to the last pathological liar with Alzheimer and a former police officer and priest. Yes, a priest and they met on Match.com. She married him after 6-months of dating and 1-month after moving in together.
Professor: Does he work on you as well as he works on his John Deere’s? I’d hate for you to fall into another disaster.
Vidal: [pops-off] …Or will he be another Dear John?
Ahmouray: I understand what you all are saying, but I am 62-years old. I don’t have an eternity!
Professor: It is okay to be alone sometimes. There is no set deadline for true companionship! Quality takes time unless you are a gifted psychic. Besides, you will have other man-husbands in your next lives too so don’t stress about how “little time you have to live!” Enjoy the freedom you have right now!
Ahmouray: I don’t believe God made me to be alone. I know Professor you and I differ on the meaning of this life, death, and God, but I am most happy as a well-cared for wife.
Delilah: Not any or every man who comes along with shining-armor, a smooth tongue, muscular body, and beautiful hair and tractors will be Mr. Wright #V!
Professor: And many Mr. Wright #IV – IX who are “priests” are on the internet! They call them virtual predators when they’re not in church! [looking toward Benton] Or does it matter where they are?
Ahmouray: I don’t have forever to look!
Professor: Hmm, especially if you have only a garden spade. [grin]
Vidal: [directed at Professor] What is the preferred size?
Benton: Doesn’t it depend on the amount of dirt or how pretty you want your…garden?
Professor: Exactly! Some need only a garden spade, others require front-loaders with dump trucks. I guess it depends on what you’re constructing. How deep the foundation should be depends on how long it will last, how much it will withstand, or what you’re digging up, huh?
Ahmouray: We have so much fun together! We talked over three hours on the phone last night. He is so nice to me. He has a Dachshund! [with a much peppier voice] Do you realize what that means!?
Dachshunds are Ahmouray’s favorite dogs. Her previous Mr. Wright #IV was also (as it turned out) a dog-lover on his internet profile, but in reality never owned a dog in his life. He never liked Ahmouray’s two dogs either.
Professor: Are you going to tell me next the dog’s name is Toto?
Ahmouray: No. Its name is Lady.
Professor: As in Gaga?
Ahmouray: No silly, as in Kenny Rogers!
At that point I believe the rest of us simultaneously downed our wine in two gulps. I asked Benton where the bottle was…he quickly got out of his recliner and said “I’ll get it and open another.” Expressing my “deep” appreciation I also asked our host and hostess, “Do you two prefer a spade or shovel?”
Vidal: If we are at an AA-NA meeting (her daughters are both addicts) spades are usually appropriate because of the group monitor/leader. [Benton agreed then added…]
Benton: But with this group shovels must be handy!
'Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it' - Terry Pratchett
Every so often I stumble across or revisit some exceptional writing, verse and prose, that latches itself to heart and soul here and again, reminding me how perfectly life, time, and uncommon love can reassure. These two I share are favorites when heart is full, or heavy, or alone.
The Professor's Convatorium 