Sadderday
Dearest,
Just as I completed the last of the shoveling, it began to snow. I went in to check the weather, it's supposed to snow till midnight. Perhaps another 2-3 inches. I got depressed, after the anger passed of course, and I started to think, uh-oh. This is a journey, I will rest under a tree when I get to the end. I don't know where that end is, or when.
I know the direction though, I know what has to be done along the way. I now know the course I must keep. I think that I understand which stars I need to steer by, which direction to hold the helm. Remember you were so amazed when we were sailing that, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the ocean, we (Dave and I) weren't lost. We knew where we were going and pretty much when we would arrive. No sextant, no GPS, no maps, just the sun and the moon and the stars. It's kind of like that, I've got the idea of it, the basic concept.
I'm not at a destination, I'm traveling, en route. All too soon the journey will be over. It will be over before I really get the hang of it perhaps. Many don't even recognize the journey, don't know even that they're en route, they think that they're already home I suppose.
One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice --though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already lateenough, and a wild night,and the road full of fallenbranches and stones.But little by little,as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own,that kept you companyas you strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to dothe only thing you could do --determined to savethe only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Till the next stop, Your Ken
Just as I completed the last of the shoveling, it began to snow. I went in to check the weather, it's supposed to snow till midnight. Perhaps another 2-3 inches. I got depressed, after the anger passed of course, and I started to think, uh-oh. This is a journey, I will rest under a tree when I get to the end. I don't know where that end is, or when.
I know the direction though, I know what has to be done along the way. I now know the course I must keep. I think that I understand which stars I need to steer by, which direction to hold the helm. Remember you were so amazed when we were sailing that, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the ocean, we (Dave and I) weren't lost. We knew where we were going and pretty much when we would arrive. No sextant, no GPS, no maps, just the sun and the moon and the stars. It's kind of like that, I've got the idea of it, the basic concept.
I'm not at a destination, I'm traveling, en route. All too soon the journey will be over. It will be over before I really get the hang of it perhaps. Many don't even recognize the journey, don't know even that they're en route, they think that they're already home I suppose.
One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice --though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already lateenough, and a wild night,and the road full of fallenbranches and stones.But little by little,as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own,that kept you companyas you strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to dothe only thing you could do --determined to savethe only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Till the next stop, Your Ken
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