Discourse: A Better World Somewhere
A friend sent along B.B. King’s blues classic — There Must Be A Better World Somewhere
After a listen, and adding it to my playlist, I replied:
“But it begs the question – “Must there be?”
To which he replied:
“There is always a choice between two correct answers to that question – which might be the point.”
Indeed, it might be.
There must be a better world somewhere.
Sky shot in Galveston late last year. The text is aspirational.
Photo taken in Malibu a few years back. Text from Howard Thurman’s The Meditations of the Heart.
A convergence today. Meaedowbrook Nursing Home, a poem by Alice N. Persons, and I Hope You Dance sung by Lee Ann Womack and written by Mark D. Sanders and Tia SillersWomack. The first made me think of the second.
Meadowbrook Nursing Home
Alice N. Persons
On our last visit, when Lucy was fifteen
And getting creaky herself,
One of the nurses said to me,
“Why don’t you take the cat to Mrs. Harris’ room
— poor thing lost her leg to diabetes last fall —
she’s ninety, and blind, and no one comes to see her.”
The door was open. I asked the tiny woman in the bed
if she would like me to bring Lucy in, and she turned her head
toward us. “Oh, yes, I want to touch her.”
“I had a cat called Lily — she was so pretty, all white.
She was with me for twenty years, after my husband died too.
She slept with me every night — I loved her very much.
It’s hard, in here, since I can’t get around.”
Lucy was settling in on the bed.
“You won’t believe it, but I used to love to dance.
I was a fool for it! I even won contests.
I wish I had danced more.
It’s funny, what you miss when everything…..is gone.”
This last was a murmur. She’d fallen asleep.
I lifted the cat
from the bed, tiptoed out, and drove home.
I tried to do some desk work
but couldn’t focus.
I went downstairs, pulled the shades,
put on Tina Turner
and cranked it up loud
and I danced.
I danced.
Photo taken of the 100+ year old tall ship Elissa in Galveston.
Photo taken last year in Galveston. Poem Excerpt from David Budbill, Winter: Tonight: Sunset
Poem link: http://poetrytreeonthecharles.net/2020/02/winter-tonight-sunset-by-david-budbill/
From Howard Thurman:
“All experience is raw material that goes into the making of me.”
I’d certainly, on reflection, like a little less of this, a little more of that. Still, there’s no escaping — “All experience….”
One last use of photos from the recent ice storm, even as spring raises its head all around us. Text frrom Paul Woodruff’s book: Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue
Photo taken on a recent run. A slow, steady pace provides the ability to contemplate the deeper meaning of road signs.
Photo taken from the front yard on a recent full moon night.
It occurs to me... 