Once

Monday Morning Musings:

“Falling slowly, sing your melody

I’ll sing it loud”

From “Falling Slowly,” Once,

Music and lyrics by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

Once. . . I woke in darkness. Then the sun rose golden through rose-tinged clouds. The air was cool but clear. The world shifted and tilted. Dreams rose from the misted woods.

morning moon whispered

softly, praise touched red-gold leaves

geese honked overhead

If you look carefully, there’s the morning moon.

chevron rises up

earth cycles, river to land,

the tide ebbs and flows

We take a train into the city. We walk over sun-bright cobblestones, passing tourists who stroll and chat in a variety of languages. We wait on corners as wide city buses try to turn onto narrow streets. We enter a theater. Seats surround a center stage area covered with Oriental rugs. Musicians are playing Irish songs of the past and present. I bop in my seat to “Brown Eyed Girl” and tap my feet to a jig. Last call for the bar. The lights go down, and magic begins.

man meets a woman

music flows, drifts from their souls,

they’re falling slowly

 

together in tune

Dublin days strummed in rhythm–

piano echoes

 

musicians rebound

music from aisles and walkways

crowd smiles and applauds

We walk and talk. Watch the lowering sun shine through cloud-dappled sky. Red bricks glow. In Washington Square, a young girl whispers her secrets to a tree. Does it answer?

music of nature

city sounds form the chorus

we dine al fresco

Enjoying a pineapple mojito at Cuba Libre

Bat Mobile?

Reflections, Cuba Libre, Philadelphia

Again. . .

We dine al fresco

wine and pizza in sunshine

a dog rests in joy

At Auburn Road Vineyards–where they love dogs!

Nightfall comes too soon,

moon rises to hum goodnight—

cats slumber and dream

 

Once. . .September was full of rain. The world was full of anger and sorrow and lies. But once, September ended in a perfect weekend of sunny days and cooler nights–falling slowly into October.

 

We saw the  musical Once at the Arden Theatre Company in Philadelphia. It was a performance full of warmth and spirit, wonderfully staged. Here they are rehearsing “Falling Slowly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Look Around: Seen and Unseen

Monday Morning Musings:

KERNER: “The particle world is the dream world of the intelligence officer. An electron can be here or there at same moment. You can choose; it can go from here to there without going in between; it can pass through two doors at the same time, or from one door to another by a path which is there for all to see until someone looks, and then the act of looking has made it take a different path. Its movements cannot be anticipated because it has no reasons. It defeats surveillance because when you what it’s doing you can’t be certain where it is, and when you know where it is you can’t be certain what it’s doing. .”

–Tom Stoppard, Hapgood

 

“I cannot tell how Eternity seems. It sweeps around me like a sea. . .”

–Emily Dickinson, from a letter to her cousins, 1882

 

“the future and the maps

Hide something I was waiting for.”

–from Edward Thomas, “When First I Came Here”

 

The seen and the unseen

sleight of hand,

the extemporaneous, the planned

blink, you miss it,

not in shadow, in sun or fluorescent light

missing what is in plain sight,

nature, spies, bumps in the night

 

Look in front of you—there it is.

Rainy Day Sight at Red Bank Battlefield, National Park, NJ

 

How far is eternity,

how wide and how deep?

Does it stretch through

cloudy skies

glance and stretch its size

through shadowed ground

and then around

to reach the stars,

(falling, calling)

a metaphysical quasar,

whose ways and days are

hinted at, but unknown.

 

I walk, and there are wonders,

two deer, twins perhaps

(you could almost miss them as you pass,

but there they are, in the grass)

their future mapped

or unknown,

become full-grown,

or decline

or killed by a hunter’s gun—

but now they recline,

unphased, in the waning sun.

Resting in the Park
Red Bank Battlefield
National Park, NJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We see a play

of Cold War spies,

particle physics underlie

the everyday,

in lines it overlays,

a metaphor of surveillance

and life

assailants and strife—

the personal, the political

watch—it’s critical,

because we don’t always see–

there may be a twin,

or there may not be.

We can’t anticipate

what will come,

life is random—

the way a moth flits,

it darts and hits

this way and that

and you can’t be certain

what it’s doing

is it pursuing

or pursued?

This is how it should be viewed

(the scientist explains)

electrons are like that moth–

then so are our ideas

within our brains

unchained,

they fly,

and we can’t plan

where they’ll go

with the flow–

but, they might stop, sink, fly

no reason, no what, no why—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and on this equinox

we go falling

headlong into the next season

yes, there is reason, it’s time,

but it seems without rhythm or rhyme

one minute it’s warm, the next it’s cool

there seems to be no rule.

So, we move on, walk and talk

about the play we’ve seen

(Look up and around)

 

Victory Apartment Building, Philadelphia

Quince Street, Philadelphia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and

drink with cheer

our wine and beer

 

At Tria

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and later the rain

comes again,

but we sleep soundly

to dream—un-profoundly–

while a cat softly snores,

and beyond our locked doors

and behind the clouded sky

the moon hums

to her own rhythm, and why

is unknown–just listen–

eternity in her lullaby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apparently, the Oracle has also seen Hapgood by Tom Stoppard. Of course, she knows everything.

We saw the Lantern Theater production.

 

To dark air

she could ask

dazzle the night.

Though she is fooled in the open

like this—

her heart

always listening,

only here you are–

and over there—

not magic,

but life

Simple Pleasures: Sun and Clouds

Monday Morning Musings

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

–Albert Einstein

“Never put off till tomorrow what may be done day after tomorrow just as well.”
― Mark Twain

Today is stormy; yesterday was bright and sunny. Such is life.

I had intended to write about another topic today, but sometimes I need to remind myself how fortunate I am. Sometimes I feel like I should pause. Freeze. Stop. Bookmark this day on a site in my brain. It’s just an ordinary day of simple pleasures, and one of many, but one I would like to take out of a memory box to reexamine someday.

My husband and I took a walk yesterday morning. We went to the park in our town. I left my phone at home. We were living in the moment. We walked on a path and gazed out at the Delaware River. Yup, Philadelphia is still there. The sun was shining, the river lapped the shore, and a steady breeze kept the heat down. It was beautiful. A grandfather taught his young grandchildren how to fish from the stony beach. Mothers wheeled their babies in carriages. A little girl carried a bunch of colorful balloons. A church group held a service in a pavilion. My husband and I walked and talked. He watched while I did an occasional sprint and ran up the stairs to the battlefield site and did tricep dips on a park bench. We saw a friend who was getting her exercise in, and we stopped to chat for a few minutes. I told my husband we must do this again because we are lucky to have such a place nearby. I am fortunate because my husband agreed to stop what he was doing to walk with me in the park. He is a good man.

After the park, we both worked and did household chores. My husband took a nap. Our daughter and her fiancé stopped by late in the afternoon to tell us about a house they thought they were going to rent. We drank coffee, and my daughter ate a piece of the banana chocolate chip cake I had made the day before. (“See, this is why I won’t fit into my wedding gown,” she said laughingly to her boyfriend. She does not have to worry. She has youth on her side.) We laughed at the antics of one of the cats who positioned himself on the table.

After they left, my husband and I ate homemade pizza for dinner. I had some wine. We watched Orphan Black. I did not do all the work I intended to do. But there’s today, right?

The day got cloudy. My daughter texted me to say the landlord had changed his mind and would not allow pets. So now they must find a new place to rent, and quickly. I feel for them. In fact, I was nearly as upset as my daughter was. I’m hoping they will be able to find someplace that is better. It is difficult to find a rental house that permits pets.

We had thunderstorms during the night.

Yesterday was an ordinary day. It was bright and sunny; it got grey and stormy. But somehow it was special.