Sisters July 2012

To listen to this post, please click here:A PHRASE TO MELT ANXIETY

Back from California and Hawaii. While I hoped to post about that, the material wants to be longer than the few short tight paragraphs I like to offer you on Wednesdays. Perhaps an excerpt will find its way here.

For now: a short reflection on being in the car, rushing for my outgoing flight due to an overslept driver. (Never book a flight on July 5 and expect a young driver to forgo celebration the night before. Perhaps March 18 and May 6 are not so good either.)

We are streaming to the airport. I am anxious about getting there, when suddenly I remind myself that this is an act of love. The motivation for this trip is to visit my sisters: an act of love. To support my husband in his latest endeavor: an act of love. It’s a phrase that has occurred to me before, and it always relaxes me.

It did not mean I caught the plane. I didn’t. I missed it by a few moments, and took my place in line at the ticket agent. The man in front of me was furious at missing the same flight, and let loose on the agent, who was unable to get him aboard it. The man stomped off to file a complaint.

But an act of love always involves the larger energy, which means we can relax. With this in mind,  I was able to be humane with the agent. Turns out he gets up every morning at 1:30 to get to the airport by 3:30, when his shift starts. (Even a bit of personal concern for another human being is relaxing.)  After a brief conversation, I was on the next flight out, no doubt before the angry man had finished filing his complaint. And the grateful agent flagged my luggage triple priority.

Thanks to my unexpected layover in Houston, I ended a ridiculously long search for the perfect denim jacket. While I missed a few hours with my sister, I got there by day’s end.

It’s an act of love. Relax.

Let’s remember how many of our daily acts hold this motivation—answering an email, picking up a child from school, trying to finish a project which helps support those we love. Our lives are filled with acts of love.

The more acts of love we recognize,  the more relaxed we get to be.

 

O’Sisters, July 2012 photo Desiree Ramos,
all text © Irene O’Garden, 2012.

Has this or another phrase been helpful to you?

Back from California and Hawaii. While I hoped to post about that, the trip wants to be longer than the few short tight paragraphs I like to offer you on Wednesdays.

So for now, a short reflection on being in the car, rushing for my outgoing flight due to an overslept driver. (Never book a flight on July 5 and expect a young driver to forgo celebration the night before. Perhaps March 18 and May 6 are not so good either.)

We are streaming to the airport. I am anxious about getting there, when suddenly I remind myself that this is an act of love. The motivation for this trip is to visit my sisters: an act of love. To support my husband in his latest endeavor: an act of love. It’s a phrase that has occurred to me before, and it always relaxes me.

It did not mean I caught the plane. I didn’t. I missed it by a few moments, and took my place in line at the ticket agent. The man in front of me was furious at missing the same flight, and let loose on the agent, who was unable to get him aboard it. The man stomped off to file a complaint.

But an act of love always involves the larger energy, which means we can relax. With this in mind,  I was able to be humane with the agent. Turns out he gets up every morning at 1:30 am to get to the airport by 3:30 , when his shift starts. (Even a bit of personal concern for another human being is relaxing.)  After a brief conversation, I was on the next flight out, no doubt before the angry man had finished filing his complaint. And the grateful agent flagged my luggage triple priority.

Thanks to my unexpected layover in Houston, I ended a ridiculously long search for the perfect denim jacket. While I missed a few hours with my sister, I got there by day’s end.

It’s an act of love. Relax.

Let’s remember how many of our daily acts hold this motivation—answering an email, picking up a child from school, trying to finish a project which helps support those we love. Our lives are filled with acts of love.

The more acts of love we recognize,  the more relaxed we get to be.

 

O’Sisters, July 2012 photo Desiree Ramos,
all text © Irene O’Garden, 2012.

Has this or another phrase been helpful to you?

Hope you are enjoying this day of reflection and celebration. This week, I offer an excerpt from my  narrative poem, “A Visit to Liberty,” which I wrote in 1997 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of The Statue of Liberty. If you would care to hear the piece in its entirety, please watch the 10-minute video below.

To see from a few other pieces of mine, please click here: 

Incidentally– I’ll be on vacation for the next two weeks, so things will be a little quiet on the blog–Thanks for reading and watching.

A VISIT TO LIBERTY

 

1.  First, the souvenirs:

Copper Lady and Plastic Lady

and Lady in the Snowball:

coinbanks, cedarboxes,

thick and tasselled pencils,

placemats postcards

mirrors spoons cups

metal paper rubber

bear her blue image

 

Also fries dogs shakes

 

2.  Buy our Admit Ones

from the whitehaired grizzlejawed joe

sparkling under his cap.

A short wait, then board

our red white and blue tidy ferry.

 

3.  Stamping children

flappy flags

ziz of nylon jackets

every size jeans, polyesters,

chiffon scarves, gold bridges,

not just Americans, but

Citizens of Everywhere.

 

4.  Hair of every kind

streaming over faces.

The violins within my blood

begin to rise.

 

 

5.  Thickhand men derope our boat.

The Hudson flushes under us.

We’re off.

Grey and black and navy hugely tower.

The pier disappears as we peer

at the flannel and seersucker buildings compressing.

 

6.  Hoisted like masts

in the brisk ferry air

squint we

out of our sun and spray tugged lashes.

Teeth dry from windward smiles

fluttery cheeks.

 

Part of a sandwich flies by.

 

7.  Ferry bottom slaps on the river’s knee.

Old fort, gunhouse, then

 

8.  Ellis on the right.

Pink brick sinks in my eyes

and my stomach.

I know that place.

In another life

off the stink of the ship

chilly chillly damp harsh

pulled shoved cursed

named another name,

I embraced my destiny.

Some of it hideous.

 

Kindness was not yet popular.

 

9.  Bright oblongs, slices of light,

sun punctuates the water.

City reduced

to a pattern of blocks

gull-garlanded.

10. And there,

as silver and as green

as juneborn leaves

she twists.

There she grows now

so tall, the tallest

woman you have ever seen.

 

11. Yes,

you can even look under her armpit.

What a great big holy face!

The boat is tipping,

cameras clicking.

 

12. Her grotto is the open sky

The water is her shrine

Appearing to the faithful

With dignity divine.

 

13. The beacon herself welcomes us–

Green goddess in the harbor

bearing light and knowledge.

Grave and peaceful,

calm and holy,

she stands at the nation’s door.

 

 

Today’s question: Have you visited Herself?

 

 

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