Because you see dear reader, in the garden dry foliage from the previous year’s growth gives its sugars to the new generation. Helps protect plants from desiccating and freezing in the winter. Shelter for birds, hibernating butterflies, and other insects. Death cycle interwoven with the spring. –from “Feed,” by Tommy Pico
“blessed” /blest, ‘blesid/ adjective 1. made holy; consecrated. Like all creation. Like each of us, made as we are in the Divine image. Here’s my little rant on this particular #AdventWord: It is both sadly underused and misunderstood, and wildly over-used and misapplied. How so? Glad you asked. The fruits of capitalism are not “blessings.” They are, well.., the fruits of capitalism. And, in contrast to Divine blessing, they do not fall on the everyone the same. The system works better for some than for others. Those of us who prosper under capitalism are not more “blessed” than those who…
Crows don’t sing, you say. I say, Who are you to judge? When humans do not understand a song, does that make it not a song? Listen to creation! To borrow a phrase from Mary Oliver, “[W]alk slowly, bow often.”
[F]orget the past, put it all away; Turn a brand new page, rescue your being from yesterday; Become a child of the present age, of youth, of wisdom, Never leave this bountiful moment, this eternal day. –Rumi
Craig Morgan Teicher has written a book titled “We Begin in Gladness.” It is about how poets progress and find their voice. Maybe I’ll get it and read it. Maybe the title is all I need hear. Some books are like that. I am quite sure without reading that much of what it says is true of all art making. But I doubt it says everything that needs to be said. Somehow the flight of a sanderling over gulf surf speaks to the point. To know gladness, to hear poetry, to make art, listen to creation.