life is a poem

so it's monday evening. i am rocking out alone in the office. love doing that. (it's the simple pleasures that you the appreciate most, really.) the sky is a surprising blue streaked with princess pink. beautiful. and the world feels calm. or still. suspended. i love that aspect of dusk. just dark enough to stir up a bit of statis. which, if we were considering theories of aesthetics, aquinas would tell is is true beauty.

this weekend was truly beautiful. both in terms of weather - overwhelming pounding rain on saturday followed by glorious embracing sunshine on sunday - and in terms of perspective / experience. i've of course been loving listening to joseph campbell* and bill moyers. i have been accused of being too into poetry. it may be a fair accusation. but i loved hearing joseph campbell talk about the place of poerty - writing, artistic expression, creation - in relation to myth. and myth in relation to life. how we hold on to stories, narrative, images to order ourselves in the world. he spoke of life as a poem. saying that to see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what the myth does for you. his point was that you are then seeing yourself and living your life in relation to a broader narrative or in association with images. and thus your every action has meaning beyond the gesture and is taking place in relation to or recollection of something more. although he said it much more eloquently than that. i'll try to find the exact language somewhere and share it. it made my heart sing.

in less profound news, i was so excited about the sunshine on sunday that i spent hours wandering around outside, walking through our suddenly beautiful city. unforuntately i was wearing a sundress and sandals - very cute but not very athletic - and ended up with blisters on the bottoms of my feet. seriously. i didn't even know this was possible. i am now basically only comfortably barefoot on tiptoe. which is, sadly, not an appropriate way to meet a visiting environmental judge from new zealand (which i did this morning) or other people in a professional context. i decided that since i was going to be in pain no matter what i put on my feet, i may as well wear fabulous shoes. so i went with plum-red pumps with black heels. not my best decision. but not my worst either. they have been kicked under my desk all day. i wonder if there is any mythological meaning in that. unlikely.

in some promising news, i am over my need to be held. and am trying to be better about getting out of my own way when i need to. whether it was the japanese punk rock concert, the rain, the sunshine, the contemplation of myth, prayers, or some combination thereof, i am back to being happy holding myself. phew. that process was a poem in and of itself.



*he really summerd it all up when he said 'follow your bliss', didn't he? i don't know how or why the rest of us bother to say anything since that thought is already out there for inspiration. actually, that's a ridiculous sentiment. there is so much more to say, feel, and create. even if its all been done before. the myriad unique ways we can experience that which is universal (everything) and try to express or give voice to it (anything) is incredibly meaningful.