Balance
It seems like such a simple concept, yet it's remarkably difficult to achieve.
Something as simple as throwing the ball for the dogs, restraining one so that the other can have a turn. Imposing balance and equity on an otherwise anarchistic situation.
What is balance, though, in essence? It's not tangible, invariable and prescriptive, but rather dependent on contexts, and coloured by perspective. And it is never more than momentary, ephemeral. It necessarily supposes a movement of give and take, of compromise. Perhaps that's why it's such a fugitive state. We humans aren't so good at compromise or adaptation. Perhaps the very quixotic nature of balance is its very virtue, though. It's at least something to strive toward.
Thanksgiving Monday
Mornings at Blackwater
For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.
And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.
What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.
So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.
Mary Oliver, Red Bird
Saying goodbye
Today was a day of sharing memories of a good friend, a neighbour, a radiant and bright person who will be very much missed.
