Old

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All things to all men

funny the way old can mean former
or hallowed
antiquated
mature
long in the tooth
bygone
early
medieval
classical
primordial
superannuated
septuagenarian
octogenarian
golden-ager
old fogey
people of a certain age
nonagenarian

hanging here from this gallows

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It’s the birthday of writer and concentration camp survivor Elie Wiesel (books by this author), born in a small village in Transylvania (1928). He grew up in a Hasidic community and learned to love reading by studying the Pentateuch and other sacred texts. When he was 15, he and his family were taken to the Auschwitz concentration camp. His mother, sister, and father were all killed before World War II was over.
Wiesel survived the camp, but he couldn’t write about his experiences for 10 years. Finally, a mentor, François Mauriac, persuaded Wiesel to write about the war. He wrote a 900-page memoir, which he condensed into the 127-page book called Night (1955). Night has become one of the most widely read books about the Holocaust. In 1986, Wiesel received the Nobel Prize in literature for his writing and teaching.
A passage from Night: “Then came the march past the victims. The two men were no longer alive. Their tongues were hanging out, swollen and bluish. But the third rope was still moving: the child, too light, was still breathing. And so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering between life and death, writhing before our eyes. And we were forced to look at him at close range. He was still alive when I passed him. His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extinguished. Behind me, I heard the same man asking:
“For God’s sake, where is God?”
And from within me, I heard a voice answer:
“Where He is? This is where—hanging here from this gallows…”

transformation

WendyJorgensen

Spilled Milk
by Willa Schneberg

I can still hear the clink
of the milk bottles he brought home
10:00 in the morning after he made
his deliveries for Bordens.
Thirty-five years, they never
gave him off a Jewish holiday.
The goy he asked to do his shift
on Yom Kippur refused and
the next day he dropped dead.
They called it a Jewish curse.
Then they stepped all over each other
to work for him.

What could I do after his stroke?
I put him in a nursing home.
He knows me, but can’t talk anymore.
Fifty years we lived together
he would never weep in front of me.
Now all the time his eyes are tearing,
but there is no more Morris to cry.

Lovemaking wasn’t so easy between us
in the early years. We both felt guilty.
We thought we weren’t supposed to enjoy
it and I was always worried
about becoming pregnant.
Later on we worried the children would hear.
But after they grew up and moved out
and I couldn’t bear anymore
we began to have fun.
It wasn’t always before going to sleep either.
Sometimes during breakfast
he would say, Let’s go
and roll his eyes up to the bedroom.
Luba, he would say, I’ll help you
take out the hairpins.

“Spilled Milk” by Willa Schneberg, from In the Margins of the World. © Plain View Press, 2001. Reprinted with permission.

the heart cannot forget

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from: The Writer’s Almanac for Monday, September 28, 2020


What the Heart Cannot Forget


by Joyce Sutphen

Everything remembers something. The rock, its fiery bed,


cooling and fissuring into cracked pieces, the rub


of watery fingers along its edge.

The cloud remembers being elephant, camel, giraffe,


remembers being a veil over the face of the sun,


gathering itself together for the fall.

The turtle remembers the sea, sliding over and under


its belly, remembers legs like wings, escaping down


the sand under the beaks of savage birds.

The tree remembers the story of each ring, the years


of drought, the floods, the way things came


walking slowly towards it long ago.

And the skin remembers its scars, and the bone aches


where it was broken. The feet remember the dance,


and the arms remember lifting up the child.

The heart remembers everything it loved and gave away,


everything it lost and found again, and everyone


it loved, the heart cannot forget.
 
Joyce Sutphen, “What the Heart Cannot Forget” from Coming Back to the Body. Copyright © 2000 by Joyce Sutphen. Used by permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Holy Cow! Press

2015: Quenby’s Fortieth Birthday

Here are my family in 2015.

In all their modesty!

Who do you see?

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Insomniac 
by Galway Kinnell
I open my eyes to see how the night
is progressing. The clock glows green,
the light of the last-quarter moon
shines up off the snow into our bedroom.
 Her portion of our oceanic duvet 
lies completely flat. The words
 of the shepherd in Tristan, “Waste
 and empty, the sea,” come back to me.
 Where can she be? Then in the furrow
 where the duvet overlaps her pillow,
a small hank of brown hair
 shows itself, her marker that she’s here,
asleep, somewhere down in the dark
 underneath. Now she rotates
 herself a quarter turn, from strewn
 all unfolded on her back to bunched
 in a Z on her side, with her back to me. 
I squirm nearer, careful not to break
 into the immensity of her sleep,
 and lie there absorbing the astounding
 quantity of heat a slender body 
ovens up around itself.
 Her slow, purring, sometimes snorish,
 perfectly intelligible sleeping sounds
 abruptly stop. A leg darts back
and hooks my ankle with its foot
and draws me closer. Immediately
 her sleeping sounds resume, telling me:
 “Come, press against me, yes, like that,
 put your right elbow on my hipbone, perfect,
 and your right hand at my breasts, yes, that’s it, 
now your left arm, which has become extra,
 stow it somewhere out of the way, good.
 Entangled with each other so, unsleeping one,
 together we will outsleep the night.”

“Insomniac” by Galway Kinnell, from Strong is Your Hold. © Houghton Mifflin Company, 2006. Reprinted with permission
The Writer’s Almanac for Thursday, September 24, 2020

the fall equinox

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orange is the color-pumkin the scent- leaves are the motif-linguists amass

Today marks the autumnal equinox in the Northern Hemisphere, the first day of fall and the point in which the Sun is directly above the equator and the hours of day and night are nearly equal. It occurs at precisely 9:31 a.m., Eastern Daylight Time. In the Southern Hemisphere, today marks the vernal equinox, the first day of spring.
As poet Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt wrote: “It is the summer’s great last heat, / It is the fall’s first chill: they meet.”

It’s the anniversary of the Norman Conquest of 1066. It was this week that William the Conqueror of Normandy first arrived on British soil. The French-speaking Normans eventually defeated Old English-speaking Saxons at the Battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066 — which had a larger and more pronounced effect on the development of the English language than any other event in history.

Norman French replaced the Germanic-based Anglo-Saxon as the official, administrative, and ceremonial language, and Anglo-Saxon was demoted to everyday, common use. The sturdy English cow, calf, and sheep on the hoof became French once they were on the plate: beef (from boeuf), veal (veel), and mutton (mouton). The word vellum, for a type of parchment made of calfskin, also comes from the French word for calf. In all, some 10,000 French words were adopted into the English language, and within the course of a few centuries, English went from being a strictly Germanic language to one infused with a large Latinate vocabulary, which came via French.

The Normans of course also imposed their ideas and practices of governing on their conquered English subjects, and our vocabulary still reflects a huge number of French-based words. Government is a word of French origin that came in during Middle English. The Old French word is governer from Latin “to steer” or “to rule.”

For many years, English-speaking subjects took allegiance to the royal crown. Allegiance is a distinctly Anglo-Norman word — it’s a variation of the Old French ligeance, from a Latin word describing foreign serfs who were allowed to settle on Roman land and till the soil.
Subject, no surprise, was a word introduced by the Norman invaders, and when it first came into Middle English from Old French (sujet, “brought under”), the word meant “a person owing obedience.”

Yet the conquered English subjects continued to swear allegiance to the king. The French-speaking Norman leader of the invaders, William the Conqueror, actually tried in his middle age to learn to speak English, the tongue of his newly conquered subjects. But from the invasion, English gained several synonyms of French origin that meant, essentially, kinglike or kingly. These include royal, regal, and sovereign. Royalty developed in the late Middle Ages to include a sense of “right to ownership” over minerals, which in the mid-1800s began to also apply to payment given by a mineral harvester to the person who owned the land from which the mineral came. Later, royalties applied to the sales of copyrighted materials.

From the Norman Conquest came the Anglo-Norman French word corune, from Old French coroner, ultimately from Greek for “circle, ring.” It formed the basis not only of the kingly crown, but also of corolla — the inner ring of petals in a flower — and corollary, coronary, coronation, and coroner — who in Norman times, as an officer of the crown, was appointed to investigate any seemingly unnatural deaths of members of the ruling class.

Words from the Anglo-Norman legal system also form the primary basis for the vocabulary of our modern legal system. A defendant is summoned to court, from the Old French cort, from the Latin word for yard. If it’s a civil affair, one might hope that all people “present at court” (the original meaning of courtier) will be courteous, which originally meant “having manners fit for a royal court.” A complaint is filed by the plaintiff, from the Old French word plaintive — a “lamentation” — which is itself derived from a Latin word, planctus, meaning “beating of the breast.”

archetype: teacher

Jeanne Poland-Quick Silver Calligraphy

in 2005 the lights came to change illusion to illumination

like my mentor, my calling changed from medical intuitive to healer:

Entering the castle by Caroline Myss
“I believe that the divine is everywhere and exists within even the most intimate details of our lives. All that we experience today has its purpose in tomorrow’s events; sometimes, the purpose is not evident for years of tomorrows. Yet, God prepares you for your spiritual journey, no matter how complicated, painful, or demanding it might become. For this reason, patience, trust, and faith must become constants for you; you cannot, and indeed you must not, even attempt to believe you know what is best for you. The divine will reveal its plan for you; you have to be open to receive it.

 It takes great courage to get to know your soul. This is because, once you do come to know it-and engage its power and live according to its authority-the divine itself will come to call. Once you are conscious of your soul, you are likely to be ‘called.’ Facing that call also requires courage because it can take you to both intensely light and intensely dark places.”

~ Caroline Myss

archetype

emoji-me-face-maker 2

#1

care-taker

embrace persons

too big for me to shoulder

they drop off my shoulder

and crash on the ground

broken.

I forget.

They are responsible for their happiness.

I am responsible for Jeanne’s.

And her health too.

I find home

and settle in for self-care

and its sister:

trust in God!

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