syrena_of_the_lake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
syrena_of_the_lake) wrote2020-04-08 04:37 pm
syrena_of_the_lake) wrote2020-04-08 04:37 pm
Still here
I haven’t had many spoons lately, but I am checking in occasionally and glad to see my little circle of online friends — keep hanging in there! I hope you are all staying safe, and that every day you can find some new happiness, however small or mundane its source. My mom had the unique gift of always finding some positive thing in the world — like Sam Gamgee looking at the stars untouched by Sauron’s shadow — and I wish that for all of you, especially now.
I’m mostly using up my store of words and energy on work right now. As much as I wish I could hunker down and write fic and organize and work off my backlog of comments and maybe learn to cook something new without being stressed out by it... I’m not. I’m working, worrying and then watching TV in the evenings. Things like the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman series, Star Trek Voyager, Gunsmoke, Miss Fisher, and the Burns and Allen show. I’ve been rereading Little Women a little bit at a time. I haven’t read most of the wonderful Worldbuilding fics yet, but I wrote one and received TWO gifts about sentient spaceships! And now I am rereading Ruth’s Stone Gryphon, and it’s like hot cocoa — warm and nourishing and comforting.
Today I woke up and thought: 2020 shall henceforth be known (among many, many other, oft unprintable things) as the year when “I have a meeting today, I should dress up” turned into “I have a meeting today, I should get dressed.” It’s easier to be pithy in the mornings, but only after coffee.
In the evenings, I want to get back into my lapsed habit of reading a little Rumi or Mary Oliver every day, so I’ll leave you with some lines I memorized years ago, and which I have carried like a talisman ever since:
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
I’m mostly using up my store of words and energy on work right now. As much as I wish I could hunker down and write fic and organize and work off my backlog of comments and maybe learn to cook something new without being stressed out by it... I’m not. I’m working, worrying and then watching TV in the evenings. Things like the Lynda Carter Wonder Woman series, Star Trek Voyager, Gunsmoke, Miss Fisher, and the Burns and Allen show. I’ve been rereading Little Women a little bit at a time. I haven’t read most of the wonderful Worldbuilding fics yet, but I wrote one and received TWO gifts about sentient spaceships! And now I am rereading Ruth’s Stone Gryphon, and it’s like hot cocoa — warm and nourishing and comforting.
Today I woke up and thought: 2020 shall henceforth be known (among many, many other, oft unprintable things) as the year when “I have a meeting today, I should dress up” turned into “I have a meeting today, I should get dressed.” It’s easier to be pithy in the mornings, but only after coffee.
In the evenings, I want to get back into my lapsed habit of reading a little Rumi or Mary Oliver every day, so I’ll leave you with some lines I memorized years ago, and which I have carried like a talisman ever since:
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.