Pretend It’s Still Tuesday…

Look what was waiting for me when I got home from work today!

A great big ole box of books!  Hooray!  Could there be anything better to come home to?  Don’t answer that…

So, after hugging the box hello and telling it all about my day, I ripped it open and squealed in delight.  Look at all my new books!

Wee!  So exciting!  And free!  Well, for me, anyway, thanks to B&N gift certificates from Ali and my parents.  (Thanks for the books, guys!)

It’s an interesting assortment, I admit.  Christian fic, memiors, young adult.  And all but one off the bargain book list.  Good night, how I love the bargain book list.

I can’t wait to get started on this stack.  Any suggestions on which I should read first?

Gits, Shiggles, and General Ridiculousness with The Baby

auntie les: happy february, everyone! well, everyone minus lid. she’s missing. so i have a special guest chatter today!

baby, the: ME! ….or yes, hi! i’m baby, the, you might have heard of me?

auntie les: we’ve mentioned you a time or two on here, i believe

baby, the: i’ve read. but yes, i’m hannah to most other people. call me what you want. but i’m very excited to be guest chatting.

auntie les: me too. thank you for agreeing to play along, baby.

you’re a good sport

baby, the: psh, doing this for gits and shiggles and my own amusement, no thanking necessary.

but you’re welcome.

auntie les: gits and shiggles? that’s a new one.

have i ever mentioned that you’re silly? because you are.

baby, the: you have, ’bout a million times.

s’ok, i know i am.

auntie les: ;-) it’s part of your charm.

baby, the: very true

auntie les: so should we maybe try to talk about books a little?

baby, the: probably.

so… reading anything good, auntie?

auntie les: actually no

not yet, anyway

baby, the: le gasp!

auntie les: i finished one yesterday, and haven’t decided what’s next

baby, the: oh.

better.

auntie les: it was my fourth book. in four weeks. which means i’m all caught up on the 52 book challenge!

yay!

baby, the: oh woo! good job. i am not doing the 52 book challenge, but i read quite a few so far

auntie les: are you keeping a list? lid would encourage that. if she were here, i mean.

baby, the: yeeeah, i was thinking i should, but i would be diligent about it for eeeh, two months, then start forgetting to update the list

besides, i’ve already forgotten which ones i’ve started/finish this year and which ones i did before new year’s

auntie les: aw. that’s ok, i guess. it’s just good that you’re reading.

baby, the: i think so

auntie les: are you a many-books-at-a-time reader like auntie lid?

baby, the: yes. or right now i am.

got four – i think – books going on right now.

auntie les: holy cow. how do you do it?

baby, the: eeh, i have a good memory? lol idk.

i just can. always have.

auntie les: i guess it’s one of those things that you either like to do or not. i did it in college, when i had do, but i didn’t like it.

baby, the: i like it, because then once one book gets to be too much – or too boring – you can just switch and come back when you want.

auntie les: but how do you decide which one to read when? i’d feel disloyal or neglectful or something.

baby, the: nah, i know i’ll finish ‘em sometime so why rush it?

it’s the same way i follow like five-six tv shows at once.

auntie les: hm. i’ve never thought of it like that before.

baby, the: glad i could offer a new perspective.

auntie les: :)

oh, i have a question for you

baby, the: yes?

auntie les: how do you decide what language version of a book to read?

baby, the: it depends on what kind of genre and how interested i am, i guess.

auntie les: should we clarify that you’re swedish? and english isn’t your first language?

baby, the: either way, i feel like english is my first language. it’s second nature to me, i translate swedish books into english in my head the same way i translate english books into swedish.

i think in english and swedish so it doesn’t really matter to me which language i read in.

sometimes i don’t know if i’ve read a book in english or swedish because in my head it’s the same.

auntie les: that’s very impressive to me, baby

baby, the: heeh. thank you, i guess?

auntie les: you’re welcome. ;-)

baby, the: but to answer your original question: mostly i prefer to read books in their written language, but i don’t mind translations.

it mostly depends on the translation, i think, if it’s a good translation.

auntie les: that makes sense

baby, the: like the harry potter and lord of the rings series – i pretty much loathe the swedish translations so those i have to read in english, but most mystery novels i almost exclusively read in swedish.

although that’s probably because it’s harder to get english paperbacks here and my parents read exclusively in swedish.

auntie les: i was going to ask how readily available english translations are there

baby, the: it’s okay. usually they’re a little more expensive and you have to look a little more for english books, but it’s not hard once you set out to find them.

online shopping ftw!

auntie les: ;-) does amazon deliver over there?

baby, the: yep. most big online shopping places do. it’s all a matter of how much you’re willing to pay.  swedish stores do usually have an online service, though, so you can order english books that you can’t find in the stores themselves.

auntie les: that’s handy

baby, the: it is

auntie les: are you working on any english books right now?

or are there any that you’re dying to read?

baby, the: yes. two.

yes!

good lord there’re so many books i want to read.

auntie les: :) see? this is why we love you!

baby, the: heeh.

:D

auntie les: in case you’ve ever wondered

baby, the: i didn’t, but thank you for telling me anyway.

auntie les: hee. welcome.

baby, the: and for your information, any jane austen novels you can find – preferably in its original english, no new adaptations – that isn’t pride & prejudice or emma, you’re free to ship over here.

or paulo coelho books that isn’t the alchemist – LOVE – or brida

just sayin’.

auntie les: i’ll keep those in mind, sugar

baby, the: thank you

auntie les: you have a birthday coming up soonish

baby, the: i do. a month and some days.

thirty-four days to be exact

auntie les: you’re going to be twenty?

baby, the: i am. i’m a big girl – no matter what you and lid say!

auntie les: our baby’s growing up…

baby, the: cue sobs

auntie les: but you’re still our baby!

baby, the: and you want to pinch my cheeks

i know

auntie les: i do. it’s true.

baby, the: yes, i know.

auntie les: lucky for you, you’re a safe distance away.

but one of these days!

baby, the: not for long, i hope.

lid’s helping me – you are, right, lid?! – look for colleges so i can come play with my aunties.

and exchange books with you.

auntie les: yay! yay yay yay!

baby, the: you didn’t know?

auntie les: i’d forgotten

baby, the: lol aw, les! cough*you’regettingoldandforgetful*cough

auntie les: :P

you = brat

baby, the: i knew that would come up

auntie les: why do these chats always include me calling someone a brat?

baby, the: because being bratty around you is fun? i rarely get to sass people, so…

auntie les: mmhm. thanks a lot, baby.

baby, the: it’s a compliment, take it as such!

auntie les: oh. ok, then.

thanks a lot, baby!

;-)

baby, the: you’re welcome!

:)

…well we got to talk a LITTLE about books. :P

yay us!

auntie les: yay!

this was fun, baby!

baby, the: it was! :) one of you should be gone so i can guest chat more often.

and i mean that in the nicest way possible.

auntie les: we’ll take that under advisement

and of course you do

baby, the: yay! success.

auntie les: hee

baby, the: anyway, it’s time for baby to sleep. it’s late in sweden-land.

auntie les: yes. it’s way past your bedtime, little one.

thank you for playing along with your auntie!

baby, the: thank you for letting me play! :)

auntie les: you’re welcome!

baby, the: i hope someone other than us enjoyed this.

auntie les: aw. i’m sure they did.

baby, the: here’s to hoping.

auntie les: have a great week, everyone! happy reading!

baby, the: happy reading!

History for the People

Howard Zinn died yesterday.  He was 87.

I first met his words fourteen years ago, when I was assigned A People’s History as summer reading for my AP US History class.  Though I ended up rushing through the chapters and bemoaning the fact that I had to write a page about each one, I knew even then that he was doing something important with all those words of his.  He was telling the stories of people who had never had a voice, and it turned out that a lot of people were listening.

His book, first published in 1980, had sold more than a million copies by 2003, which was around the time I herded the members of my youth group into a lecture hall in Boston to hear him speak.  I’m sure several, if not most, of them rolled their eyes at me behind my back, but just that once, I knew what was good for them.

He was a fascinating man – passionate and funny, intense and light-hearted.  He spoke and wrote in a way that compelled me and many others to learn and understand.  I admire the way he lived his ideals and convinced many others to follow his lead.  He always remembered that history was made up of the actions of humans and was therefore a living thing.

I’m always sad when a writer I love passes, but I think the loss is more profound when that writer is also a very admirable human.  Howard Zinn, above all, was someone I looked up to.  He wrote and said and did what he believed to be right.  He lived with integrity and a sense of humor that kept his approach from becoming dogmatic.  He knew what he thought, and he shared those thoughts readily.  But he wasn’t one to force his thoughts on others.  I respect that way of being, and I try to emulate it as best I can.

I know that his words will live on, now a part of the living history he described so well.  New generations of high school students will read him, and though I’m sure many will roll their eyes at the thought of another history text, some will find what I found.  They will discover a mentor, a guru, a friend – someone who can make history real and relevant with a few choice phrases.  This may be his most enduring and important legacy; Howard Zinn brought history to life.

The Post That Made Me Laugh Out Loud In My Stupid Cubicle

I wasn’t built for cubicles.  The teeny-tiny desks, the two and a half square feet of rolling space, the constant ricky-ticky chatter from those around me…omg, maddening.  I realize now how spoiled I was at the other place, with my spacious office, my giant desk, and my *sniff* door.  I really miss my door.  Really, really miss my door.

I neglected that door.  Never once did I hug it or confess my deep-seated love of it.  If I had it to do over, nary a day would go by when I wouldn’t shower that door with affection.  I love you, sweet door…

Here?  No door.  And not even the tiniest little flutter of liking for this stupid cubicle.  Sigh.

So, yeah.  My attitude still pretty much sucks about this whole job thing.  And not only am I in a new, less-than-ideal situation, my customers are too.  The efficient, exceptional, totally-kick-ass, priority-number-one customer service they’re accustomed to is out the window, since my cohort and I now have to run every blessed detail past the myriad of higher-ups.  And seeing as those higher-ups know absolutely nothing about our products, our industry, or our business model, decisions are taking a little while.  And by little while, I mean hours.  Whole days, even.  Ridiculous.  And really sucky customer service.

Know what else sucks about this place?  (Aren’t I the Suzy Sunshine of transitions?)  That I can’t get even thirty minutes of quiet at lunch. I mean seriously.  By the time 12:30 rolls around, all I want to do it sit in uninterrupted silence and read my book.  But no.  The same chatterbox ambles in every day, right as I’m about two sentences into my lunch.  And then – ohmygodthenerve! – he asks what I’m reading.  Every. freaking. day.  And when I tell him, in my unfriendliest, monotone, do-not-even-try-to-engage-with-me-I’m-reading-please-be-quiet voice, he always, always asks what it’s about.  Oy!  Oy oy oy!

Well, Chatty Charlie, I’m so glad you asked.  It’s a murder mystery.  About a quiet, book-loving girl who is driven to the brink of insanity by a nosy little man who never. shuts. up.  I haven’t quite figured the mystery out just yet, but I suspect it may have been death by paper cuts.

(Bahahahaha.  Seriously, that may’ve been the first time I’ve smiled all day.)

So what am I reading?  And what is it about?  Well, since you asked so nicely, and caught me before my lunch break, I’ll tell you.  Right now I’m working on Taft by Ann Patchett.  I figured I’d treat myself to one of my favorite authors.  A little bit of self-indulgence in the face of the yucky.  Helps balance things out a little.  (Chocolate helps too.)  (Massive, whole-hearted re-thanks to Kel for the sea salt caramels.  They’re my reward for surviving the day.)

I’m little more than a third of the way through, and I can’t quite figure out where she’s going with this one.  I don’t really care, though.  I’ll go wherever she takes me.  The characters are interesting, and the writing is good, and really, those are my only requirements.  Well, that and a quiet lunchroom.

I don’t know that I’ve ever appreciated books like I do right now.  They’re the escape, the distraction I so desperately need.  They help me forget about cubicles and bureaucratic bologna.  For that, I love them.  Even more than my old door.  And that’s a lot.

Is it February Yet?

Les: morning, everyone! can you believe it’s the last monday in january?

Linds: it is?

oh, i guess it is.

Les: yep. sure is. where’d the month go?

Linds: not all to reading, that’s for sure.

Les: no kidding

i only managed two and a quarter this month

not awesome

Linds: but not terrible, either

Les: it was something. and i guess considering all i’ve been though this month, it could’ve been worse

Linds: very true

let’s aim for a happier and more book reading february, shall we?

Les: indeed

Linds: you usually like february

Les: because you usually don’t, and i try to balance you

i’m not overly optimistic about this february

Linds: well then i’ll try to like february for you

Les: kthx

can i skip my birthday this year?

i don’t wanna get older

Linds: no you may not

birthdays are fun

Les: boo

Linds: think about being celebrated rather than age

also, if you don’t get older, then we won’t be the same age anymore

and that would be dumb

Les: oh. ok, then.

Linds: kthx

if it makes you feel any better, i’ll always be older. ;-)

Les: it does. a little.

Linds: ok then

Les: i’m still not looking forward to it

Linds: party pooper

Les: that’s me

Linds: well, every party does have to have one

clearly, that’s why we invited you

Les: :P  you’re a brat

Linds: hee.  but did it make you smile a little?

Les: kinda

Linds: i’ll take it!

Les: it also made me roll my eyes and shake my head

Linds: and i’ll take that too

so guess what?

Les: what?

Linds: i get to read again this week!

Les: woo

how was last week?

Linds: i survived.  i watched A LOT of bones

Les: i wondered how you kept yourself entertained. since, you know, it wasn’t chatting at me.

Linds: there was some actual socializing as well

but this week – books!

Les: i’m sure they missed you too

Linds: ;-)  yay books

Les: yay

Linds: are you reading something fun right now? you should be. let’s declare it happy book week.

Les: i started taft on the plane home thursday

Linds: taft?

Les: another ann patchett.  i don’t love it yet

Linds: well i hope you do

Les: me too

Linds: keep me posted

Les: will do

Linds: i may just go wander the creepy place in joy that i can read again

Les: ew

Linds: some things never change…  ;-)

Les: thanks?

Linds: you’re very welcome

have a better week, ok?

Les: i’m gonna try.  think good new job thoughts for me, k?

Linds: you’ve got it

Les: thx

Linds: and i’ll think good reading thoughts for all of us

Les: good idea

Linds: happy reading, everyone. we’ll talk to you soon!

Word of the Week – Onus

This is one of those words that I really enjoy using, maybe just because I think it makes me sound smart. Plus, it’s such a nice little word with such a precise meaning – what’s not to love?

Onus, noun: a burden, an obligation, a disagreeable necessity

Reading Deprivation

For those of you not familiar with Julia Cameron or her course in creativity, The Artist’s Way, let me say at the outset that she is a wonderful writer and guide, and her book is truly transformative.  It’s also, unfortunately for me at the moment, just a smidge evil.

I was introduced to The Artist’s Way several years ago, and though I completed only about three-quarters of the twelve week course then, I found it to be incredibly beneficial.  The book revolves around daily morning pages – three longhand, stream-of-consciousness pages first thing every day – and artist dates – little adventures you take yourself on once a week, to fill your creative well.  It also includes a list of ten weekly tasks to accomplish before the week is out, all meant to help free up the creativity that exists in every person.  It takes a few hours each week and is worth every second.

Back in December, after months of hemming and hawing, I finally decided to dive back into morning pages and then all of The Artist’s Way.  I’d been feeling a bit stuck and lethargic, and I thought it would be a good way to jump-start the coming new year.  I got off to a great start, moving quite easily through the first three weeks of the course.

And then came Sunday.

Sunday was the start of Week Four, and on the sidebar of the first page of the week’s chapter was a note saying, “Warning: Do not skip the tool of reading deprivation!”  Apparently I did this once a few years ago, when I did the fourth week.  And apparently (for good reason), I’d blocked it out.  No reading?  For an entire week?  You have got to be kidding me.

And yet here I am, four days later, still standing and still not reading.  The idea is to stop filling my mind with the creativity of other people and to pay attention to what’s happening in my world and my own head.  For the first day or so, every time I would have a quiet moment, I’d reach for a book.  It’s an ingrained habit – have a minute, read a page.  I’d forgotten how to fill my time with things other than the words of others.  Clearly, as much as I hated the idea, reading deprivation was a good idea for me.

This week, I’ve done a little meditating, I’ve hung out with friends at quiz night (we lost, but it was still fun), I’ve listened to the radio, and I finally watched Milk, which was excellent but had been sitting on my tv since it arrived from Netflix weeks ago.  I also got my oil changed and my hair cut, and did numerous other little things that I’ve been meaning to get to for ages.  Time without reading has been time well spent.

When Sunday comes, I will return to my books with gratitude, but also with moderation.  I still plan to finish my 52 books in 52 weeks, but I want to be sure that the hours spent with other people’s thoughts don’t cut me off from my own experience.  Books can be uplifting and transformative, but they can also be a crutch, helping us to avoid whatever messy wonderfulness life has to offer.  I’m seeing now that I want books to enrich my life rather than to be my life.  That’s an important distinction, and one I plan to maintain.

The Post In Which I Use the T Word and Complain About My Job

This past week has been one of the hardest in my life, ranking right up there with the weeks I lost my grandparents.  And as tragic, to me, as their deaths were, and as profoundly as I felt those losses, I’ll probably remember last week as the most emotionally trying week of my life.  Because death, while painful and awful, can be expected, planned for, and shamefully, sometimes a bit of a relief.  What I experienced last week was unforeseen and life-altering.

The company I worked for – the only real grown-up job I’ve had – merged.  Though, realistically, what they’re doing is hardly a merger.  More like a rearranging; a tit for tat.  (BTW, that is the only circumstance under which I will ever use that word.  I HATE the “t” word.  Bleh.)  For the promise of future manufacturing work, my boss – well, former boss – sold our sales department, which I ran, to his father’s company.  We were packed up and hauled off across town, into a building I’d never set foot in; I have new bosses I’d never met, and a new job I didn’t apply for.

“It’s good for business,” he told me repeatedly throughout the week.  And it is, it will be, good for business.  Of this I heartily agree.  Problem is, my name isn’t Business.  It’s Leslie.  What about me?

In a phone conversation New Year’s Day – I don’t even remember with whom – I boldly (and rather carelessly, it now seems) declared 2010 the year of change for me.  Little did I know that less than 72 hours later that change would begin, and I wouldn’t have an ounce of control over it.

Now in all honesty, when I look at this objectively (and get over the massive ego blow just delivered upside my head), I acknowledge that this could be the best thing ever to happen to me professionally.  My two greatest sources of stress will no longer be part of my daily life, and someone else will be tasked to make – and take responsibility for – company-altering decisions.  The new place has an actual handbook (you know, as opposed to the one I wrote myself).  It has a break room, with a refrigerator that works and coffee pots that appear to actually get washed regularly.  No, I’ll no longer have a nice office and fancy title, but there are worse things than cubicles and demotions, of that I’m fully aware.  I have a place to go Monday morning.  I have a salary that won’t change, and I won’t have to go even a single week without a paycheck, which is more than a lot of people can say right now.  So as upset as I am about the change that’s been thrust upon me, I am endlessly grateful to still be employed.  The fact that the new place has a cappuccino machine helps a little too.

Why am I telling you all this?  Well, mostly to get it off my chest.  And so you’ll understand if I miss a Tuesday here or there.

*****

Ok, so there’s where I left off Sunday before last.  I managed to survive a week and a day at the new place, and can report that cubicles suck, my new title is insulting, and the cappuccino upset my stomach.  I’m slowly (s-l-o-w-l-y) adjusting to my new role as low man on the totem pole, and getting pretty damn good at jumping through hoops.  (My attitude, admittedly, isn’t the best right now.)

It’s been interesting to realize how this has permeated every aspect of my life.  My evenings have been consumed with phone calls and want ads, and my reading plan, sadly, has gone right out the window.  It’s taken me the better part of the last two weeks to work my way through half of The Secret Life of Bees.  And good grief, the book isn’t that long.  Thankfully, though, I’m hitting the road tomorrow for a business trip to North Carolina, and should have plenty of time at the Nashville airport to wrap it up.  Then I can move on to something else.

What’ll come next, on my reading list and in my life, I haven’t quite decided, but I’ll let you know when I do.

The Week of Doom (Which May or May Not Include Pom Poms)

Les: uh, lid?  i don’t think our new bloggy plan is working so well.

Linds: well, i posted some

and you posted some

so that has to count, at least a little

Les: ok, good

i fully intended to post something for tuesday, but spent the entirety of monday evening job hunting

didn’t quite get around to blog posting

oops

Linds: oops

how about this week?

Les: um…maybe?

i guess i could post what i wrote for last week. assuming i don’t reread it and hate it. which is a distinct possibility.

Linds: how about reading it and liking it, just for a change of pace?

Les: that would be weird

Linds: but efficient

you should try it out

Les: we’ll see

Linds: mmhm

i know what that means

Les: you know me too well

Linds: ;-)

part of my job

so give yourself a break and post what you have

we’ll take it!

Les: i’m not making any promises. but i’ll try to not hate it, k?

Linds: ok. but if you’re not careful, you’ll have me breaking out the pom poms in a minute

Les: oh lord

Linds: :)

we know you don’t want it to come to that

Les: no. no no no.

Linds: ok then. be nice to your writing, and nobody gets cheered.

Les: ok, fine

Linds: yay!

that definitely cheers me up about my week of doom

Les: uh oh

Linds: yeah

i’m on week four of the artist’s way

Les: and?

Linds: which means reading deprivation

no reading. for a whole week.

Les: dude

duuuuuuuuude

Linds: i know!

Les: that’s just wrong!

Linds: it’s pretty terrible

Les: are you still allowed to listen to books? because that technically isn’t reading.

Linds: dude

Les: hee

Linds: not this again

Les: hey, i’m just trying to help you out here, lid

Linds: well, well… :P

you = not helpful

Les: aw. sorry?

Linds: you are not.

Les: again with the knowing me too well…

Linds: again with the being a brat.

Les: part of my job. ;-)

Linds: mmhm

guess i know where not to go for sympathy this week

Les: best place to look for sympathy is in the dictionary.

that’s what grandpa always said

Linds: i see you come by your brattiness honestly

Les: yep. i get my nicknaming propensities from him too.

Linds: i see

so i have lots to “thank” him for, hm?

Les: yup

good ole grandpa mick

man, i miss him

Linds: ;-) i know. he sounds like he was fun.

Les: he really was

and he loved to read. he’d talk your ear off about whatever he was reading.

Linds: are you sure you’re not his clone?

Les: he used to say i was just like grandma

i’d say i’m a pretty good mix of both of them

Linds: and i’d agree

Les: i know i got my hard-headedness from both of them

big healthy doses from both sides

Linds: so helpful of them!

Les: gotta take the bad with the good

Linds: true

Les: kinda like your reading fast, i think

Linds: how so?

Les: well, it’ll be unpleasant to go a whole week without reading

but you’ll get a lot out of it

right?

Linds: yeah, i think so

plenty of time to work on my post, for one

Les: see? there you go.

Linds: i’ll probably survive. somehow.

Les: you could always cheat, i guess

Linds: but i’d know

and that’s kind of the point

Les: so you’ll suck it up and deal. it’ll go by quickly, i imagine.

you’re welcome to spend your free time chatting with me

Linds: ;-)

how about we make sure we post every day this week? that’ll be a good use of some of my free time.

Les: that’ll depend on my free time, but we can try

Linds: sounds good to me.

Les: k good

Linds: so now that we have a plan, how about we head off and get started?

Les: excellent suggestion

Linds: ok then

have a great monday, everyone!

Les: read a little extra for lid this week, would you?

Linds: please!

Les: and feel free to tell us all about it

Ode to Poetry, Ode to the West Wind

I have loved poetry for as long as I can remember.  Before I could identify a stanza or sonnet or internal rhyme, I loved the music that words could make.  I began piecing them together when I was still a child, and though those early efforts now make me cringe, I believe I was becoming a poet even then.

In college, a course on American women poets got me writing with earnest attention, while a separate introduction to Audre Lord’s A Litany for Survival confirmed the utter necessity of words that spoke difficult truths.  Sometimes I tried to read literary criticism, but I rarely understood it.  What I understood was the relationship between the poet’s words on the page and the emotions they evoked.  All I remember of the professor who taught that course was that she nitpicked one word choice in a poem I wrote.  What I remember about Audre Lorde is that she reached in and gripped my heart.

Poetry has always been like that for me: visceral, immediate, passionate, and personal.  It happens in the space between the author and the reader and the page.  There is room, of course, for criticism in the best sense – critique that strives to understand, to lift up, and to connect to what is written.  But there is no room, in my poetic world, for criticism that tears down needlessly.

Perhaps to avoid just that sort of criticism, I steered clear of other poetry classes.  Instead, I wandered, looking for words that meant something to me.  That’s how I discovered Billy Collins and his poem Silence.  That, strangely enough, is how I fell in love with Shelley’s Ode to the West Wind.

I was tutoring one night several years ago now, trying to explain to a student why poetry was worth caring about.  Flipping through a book of poems, I landed on Shelley, and reading, I was captivated.  The opening is beautiful, the words and rhyme tripping lightly over themselves:

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeting,

The images are rich and compelling, the pace leads the reader on, line by line, and then…oh my:

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!

And, by the incantation of this verse,

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

Be through my lips to unawakened Earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

This, I love.  The desire, the melancholy acceptance, and then that final question that rings in my ears long after I put the poem down.  I love to plumb the depths of this poem, to contemplate Shelley’s words and my relation to them.  Though I haven’t written any poetry of my own recently, I feel the pull of it, the way words click into place to say exactly what I mean as well as what I didn’t know I had within me.

For now, I return to this and other favorite poems, to fill me up until my own words come again.  And I ask and hope and pray, with Shelley, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?”