Monday, January 19, 2009

Summer of lust




Photo: LIFE Magazine

A family member diagnosed with terminal disease was recently kicked out of hospice. That's a good thing. A miraculous thing. Sand in the hourglass. We're celebrating. Sickness and death are ugly, but there's joy in it too. The sweetness is when you find yourself in that life space where you appreciate every fucking thing and never again give a shit about the stuff that hardly matters, all those little things that once seemed big and hairy. They're not. They're just ripples on the lake.

Celebrate with me!

Unfathomable
KM

When the sky is so blue
it makes your heart ache,
pulled tight and crisp behind 
clouds like a starched shirt
across a man’s chest,
lawn so soft
and cool upon your soles that
it stops you in your tracks…

Look up,
try to see beyond that skin
that holds this world
in place, try to fathom
how you will do it,
how you will let go, 
how you will watch blue fade to black
without saying goodbye to every little thing…

That would be too hard
instead
just lie down upon the leaves of grass
breathe so slowly
you might not be
there is no reason
to hurry anymore. 

I was born in August, 1968. Missed Woodstock and "Summer of Love" by one year. I like to call 1968  the "Summer of Lust," though it would have actually been the naughty fall of 1967, but that's getting technical. 

These photos from LIFE Magazine of Woodstock make me want to spin in a hippie skirt, traipse down Groovy Way, and dive deep into that cool, cool water.




Next time: Packed in Italy & other mysteries of sacred emulsions

15 comments:

Nikki Magennis said...

Mm, there's that gift of shock, isn't there, that gives amazing strength out of nowhere, sudden import and clarity.

Lovely poem, I'm raising a glass to you!

Neve Black said...

Unbelievably, believable, Kirsten.

I'm taking a deep breath in and tonight, I'm dedicating my yoga pratice to you and yours.

Peace

Erobintica said...

Kirsten, that poem took my breath away. Yesterday was the memorial service for a friend, poet, wonderful human being who is no longer with us and some of us are having a hard time with that. I sent a link to your post to a friend in a funk - think she'll appreciate it too.

thank you

Donna said...

A very moving poem--I can feel it in my chest. I've been in that space, just as part of the entourage, a few times myself. It's powerful, beautiful and achingly sharp--you captured that perfectly!

Kirsten Monroe said...

Hi All,

Thank you for your kind thoughts & words.

Nikki, clarity is the word -- that wonderful shot of clarity. And a toast of whisky back to you.

Neve, I can feel your smile and your peace, thank you!

Robin, I am so very sorry for your loss. I'm thankful that this somehow touched you and hope it will be helpful for your friend also.

Donna, extreme joy and pain can both create that aching feeling, it seems. I've been there before also, but I was a lot younger. This time I am both stronger - but perhaps more susceptible to - the roller coaster of emotions. It's been a wild ride.

Craig Sorensen said...

These thoughts hold a lot of meaning to me.

Thank you.

BadAssKona said...

Beautiful poem, and beautiful thoughts! Every summer is the summer of love/lust; every day is full of wonder and beauty.

Kirsten Monroe said...

Hey Craig, I'm so glad, so very, very glad.

Yep BAK, every way can and should be the Groovy Way. Did you see the stars tonight? These winter skies are incredible. Lessens the bite of that fierce east wind.

Emerald said...

What a beautiful, beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing.

Best, very best, to you and those you love, always.

EllaRegina said...

Bless you, and your family.

Kirsten Monroe said...

Thanks Emerald & EllaRegina,

Blessings to you as well. May you dance & sparkle!

Jeremy Edwards said...

Thinking of you—big hugs to you and all your dear ones.

Kirsten Monroe said...

Thanks Jeremy! Big hugs back from me to all of you amazing, wonderful people who fill my days with smiles. I am in awe of so much talent and creative energy and kindness.

Alana said...

Kirsten,

I had a great day yesterday but a shitty evening and then I had this weird but uplifting dream abuot my son's father.

Anyway, what I mean is, I'm glad I read this post. came at a good time for me. I can act like such a jerk sometimes, open my big fat mouth, get caught up in drama that's a waste of time. Do you know what I mean?

The poem is beautiful, timeless.

BTW: I was born on the tail end of 1966 so missed Woodstock (and Jimi Hendrix) too. Dug the pictures a lot.

Peace,
A

Kirsten Monroe said...

Alana! I'm pretty sure 1966 was the year of desire and fabulous fantasies!

I'm glad your dream was uplifting -- serendipity or something that it came along at the time you needed it.

I think I know what you mean. I fight the demon of worrying that perhaps I said or did something that may have been offensive. It's silly and I'm getting better, but I get so mad when I waste time fretting that way. Life is short & so am I. Fucking move on, right?

Thanks for stopping by & sharing your thoughts!!

--KM