WORDS LIKE LIGHT 

Thursday, August 26, 2021

EXUBERANT

            I need to look more carefully for the natural exuberance of life, the way it seems to constantly revel in its own liveliness. I should think more about the marvelous fact that, in our little neighborhood, lungs are regularly rising and falling, hearts are pumping with good predictability, and lush darkness and vivacious sunshine take turns cleansing us each night and day. Yes, there is tragedy and terror all across the earth, but there is far more ebullience and buoyancy. Just now, my jaws are vigorously moving in order to chew some tasty pretzels, thousands of cars and trucks are efficiently flowing along the nearby interstate, and water is irrepressibly pouring from the kitchen faucet as Delycia rinses some dishes. There’s sorrow across the world, yes, but there’s also jubilation – in the breezes that dance around millions of homes, in the lively sounds in kitchens as food is prepared, and in the bouncy way that branches bend and rise in winds.  I need to look for the exultation in life more than for the gloom. There’s celebration even in the way birds feed at our feeders, and I should share in it by sometimes simply standing still and watching and cheering.     

IN ABUNDANCE

In Abundance, South Carolina, 
there is a profusion of pleasant feelings
flowing out from everywhere - 
from homes, from stones in fences, from puzzles 
people are putting together together. 
Here, there is affluence 
even in grilled cheese sandwiches, 
even in raisins sitting on a plate beside a magazine.  
Citizens have noticed exuberance in sunrises,
in scissors slicing through paper, 
even in legs lifting and falling while walking. 
In Abundance, there's always opulence 
in the zestful zigzags of life,
and when disasters have struck, there's speedily been 
the bulldozing of problems by friendship 
with its lavishness and its feeling of blue skies. 

Better bring big bags to hold all the goodness
when you pay a visit to Abundance, SC.  
  
 

HUNTING GOODNESS

Saturday, July 17, 2021

     Some friends of mine are occasional bow hunters, and I guess I’m a sort of hunter, too. My friends hunt mostly deer, whereas I hunt, in my sporadic and somewhat casual way, mostly goodness. My friends probably stalk their prey silently and seriously, and I sometimes do the same – quietly watching for signs of goodness, sneaking up on it, hoping to see it clearly in all its ordinariness and splendor. I know there’s a significant overpopulation of deer, making them easy to spot during hunting season, but surely goodness teems and overflows far more than deer, enabling me, if I’m sincerely stalking it, to catch sight of it everywhere. This world of ours is a goodness hunter’s paradise. There’s goodness in every face I see, every smile, every glance between friends, every hand offering help. There’s goodness, somehow or other, in every house, every car, every store, down every street. I sometimes set out on a lighthearted and lucky hunt, knowing I’ll see success within a few minutes, maybe just across the street where birds are bringing sticks to a new nest. That’s goodness, and it’s given to all of us to hunt and be happy with, no bows or arrows needed.     

GIFTS ON THE TRAIL

a spoken-on-the-spot poem
made on April 12, 2021, at 8:02 a.m.
on the Denison Pequotsepos Trail

Bring me your gifts, 
bird songs. Shake up 
my life in a soft way, 
like our footsteps 
smoothly saying hello 
to the trail, as life 
takes its time, 
and the birds 
share their sincerity 
and the goodness 
of the great earth.