Wednesday, April 19, 2006

my feet

They're not perfect, but they have been taking me on quite the journey lately. Meditations with Monks, Sand Mandalas, Hiking in Sacred Grounds and a long soggy hike through very exciting thunder storm (with tornado warnings we found out later), in and out of hospitals in the middle of the night with children. They've been given the run around by US immigration, and are currently dancing with two lawyers and running from the IRS (sent by our husband). They took me to meet Sister Helen, and we spoke of poetry and Mary Oliver. They will take me to Long Island this summer to meet with my publisher and start another important journey.
They also walked me into my first AA meeting almost 3 months ago and have been taking me there almost everyday since. They're handy these feet. I have about 15 really good blogs in my head and might even write a few of them soon. Till then I'll be following these feet.

those who know me realize I can't post without a poem....

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.


by Mary Oliver

10 comments:

Sothis said...

Hey there! Glad to have you back! I hope that everything is getting better. Maybe you can use those feet to give your husband and the tax man a good kick in the arse.

Ah, my favorite poem of all time. Thanks for posting it. It always lifts my spirits.

Callooh said...

Mary Oliver is always good for my soul. I carry her around (well her poems that is!) with me sometimes.

My feet my just be up for that arse kicking, there are one or two others that could use one as well as I untangle this.

thanks!

Lenren said...

Glad you are back as well. Loved the poem. I have never heard it before, it was really great. Amber

Callooh said...

thank you!

I feel better than ever. Mary Oliver is who I read when I need to nuture myself - that poem is sort of an anology for my life right now.

Kathleen Callon said...

So glad you came back for a visit. I'd posted quite a few times, but they didn't show up. I was worried about you... didn't know if you were OK or if your (sounds like a slimy ass bastard) husband deleted them. Either way, glad you are having an adventure and the kids are with you. I wish you the best, my dear.

Callooh said...

ha ha! I keep everything password protected not to worry. he's not so bad, just not for me, and has made some really poor finacial choices that have landed us in hot water with the IRS (and a few other institutions - sigh).

this too will pass, and I will be stronger for it.

hopefully we will forge a new relationship that will be based in friendship, that's what the kids need, and in the end they will always come first.

am working on a new post about being the mother of a teenager and the need for body armour and ear plugs.... ;-)

thanks Kathleen, will visit you soon...

Rex Kramer, Danger Seeker said...

Given the into, I expected a poem about feet. Not that feet are a fetish, because, let's be honsest, that'd be twisted. Right? Please say "yes"...I have a session with my therapist this week.

Still, why not "Ode to a Toe,: or maybe even "Thoughts on a Well-Calloused Plantar?" To me, this might be an unexplored genre you may wish to explore with your publisher.

P.S. Seriously, I just stumbled over this site, and felt compelled to make a stupid comment.

Tonya said...

great blog.

Gary said...

Ahh, the taken-for-granted feet. Nice post, nice poem, nice feet too..

Thanks for visiting my site recently. I guess it's our fingers tapping away that are also taking us lots of places these days.

Callooh said...

oh rex, I couldn't resist.... this one is for you (and no nothing wrong with a foot fetish... ;-) ..)

Ode on a Calloused Foot
absolutely not by John Keats

Thou still unravished pride of barefootedness,
Thou poster-child of sand tread in slow time,
Rustic keepers who canst thus express
A calloused tale more truly than our rhyme:
What fetished legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
To Tempe out the melancholy
What men or gods are these for us to loath?
What mad pursuit? Why struggle to escape?
Why not give in? Stalk the wild ecstasy?
. . . . . .

now no one can say I can't write bad poetry as well as the next guy....


Tonya -

thanks! and thanks for visiting


Gary -

fingers, feet, minds, all can take us places - if we choose to go that is. thanks!