Love After Love

Feast on your life Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott

An Open Letter From an Apathetic Customer

Mona Lisa

So you have an idea? A new product you’re launching? Something you want to sell me?

That’s wonderful! Tell me all about it…

No, just kidding. I don’t actually care.

You see, I have this thing called a life. I woke up this morning with my own set of dreams and responsibilities.

I didn’t wake up and start looking for you.

You’re an interruption. A distraction, at best, from my momentary boredom.

In fact, at this point the only reason we’re still having this conversation is because I shifted it from you back to me.

I do that a lot.

I like me.

I’m literally my favorite person.

Which is kinda funny when you consider all the mean things I say about myself. I’m complicated, but that’s a longer discussion.

Would you like to have that discussion?

I guess not because you’re still talking.

Wait, what’s that you say?

Your idea could change my life? Your product is the best in its class and you started it in your garage?

Wow, you’re just like me!

I have ideas, too, you know?

And I’m going to get to them one of these days. I’m just soooooooo busy. And bored.

I like that we’re similar. I like that we want the same things. But you seem to have what I don’t, and that makes me sad.

Continue reading “An Open Letter From an Apathetic Customer”

there are no words

National Day of Prison

In honor of The National Day of Prison:

Prison Letter
M. A. Jones

You ask what it’s like here
but there are no words for it.
I answer difficult, painful, that men
die hearing their own voices. That answer
isn’t right though and I tell you now
that prison is a room
where a man waits with his nerves
drawn tight as barbed wire, an afternoon
that continues for months, that rises
around his legs like water
until the man is insane
and thinks the afternoon is a lake:
blue water, whitecaps, an island
where he lies under pale sunlight, one
red gardenia growing from his hand —

But that’s not right either. There are no
flowers in these cells, no water
and I hold nothing in my hands
but fear, what lives
in the absence of light, emptying
from my body to fill the large darkness
rising like water up my legs:

It rises and there are no words for it
though I look for them, and turn
on light and watch it
fall like an open yellow shirt
over black water, the light holding
against the dark for just
an instant: against what trembles
in my throat, a particular fear
a word I have no words for.

___
1982, Arizona State Prison-Perryville
Buckeye, Arizona

dance with adversity

Abraham Lincoln

After his family was evicted from their home, he had to drop out of school to support them.

At age 21, he experienced his first failure in business. Then, at age 22, he ran for state legislature, and lost. He also lost his job in the process. So he applied for law school, but got rejected.

At 24, he borrowed some money from a friend to start another business, and within 12 months he was bankrupt. He spent the next 17 years of his life paying off this debt!

At 26, his first love died, leaving him heartbroken. This also led to a nervous breakdown a year later.

He was defeated when he ran for speaker of his state legislature. He also got rejected when he sought to become the elector.

He ran for Congress at 34, and was defeated again. Then he finally won, but lost his re-election.

He sought the job of land officer in his home state, and got rejected. At 45, he ran for Senate of the United States, and lost.

At 47, he sought the Vice-Presidential nomination at his party’s national convention, and got less than 100 votes. He ran for U.S. Senate again at 49, and lost for a second time.

Finally, at 52 years old, he became the 16th President of the United States.

Although he suffered from clinical depression throughout his life, his ability to handle conflict and dance with adversity was unmatched, and scholars now rank Abraham Lincoln as one of the greatest Presidents ever.

——
Light

create from the hurty poos

the hurty poos

“What are we trying to heal, anyway?

The athlete knows the day will never come when he wakes up pain-free. He has to play hurt.

Remember, the part of us that we imagine needs healing is not the part we create from; that part is far deeper and stronger.

The part we create from can’t be touched by anything our parents did, or society did. That part is unsullied, uncorrupted; soundproof, waterproof, and bulletproof.

In fact, the more troubles we’ve got, the better and richer that part becomes.”

― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art