THE POET
by David Whyte from Fire in the Earth (Many Rivers Press)
moves forward
to that edge
but lives sensibly,
through the senses
not because of them.
Above all he watches
where he steps.
As if it matters
where he leaves his prints.
The senses overwhelm him
at his peril.
Though he must be taken
by something greater.
That is what he uses
senses to perceive
The poet's
task is simple.
He looks for quiet,
and speaks to what
he finds there.
But like Blake
in his engraving shop, works
with the fierceness
of acid on metal.
Melting away apparent
surfaces and displaying
the infinite
which was hid.
In the early morning
he listens by the window,
makes
the first utterance
and tries to overhear
himself say something
from which
in that silence
it is impossible to retreat.
Spring is a raucous season. Although it isn't exactly early morning, I am listening by my window and there is anything but silence. The twirls, whirls, chirps, caws, and rat-a-tats of a cacophony of birdsong almost completely drown out the noise from the cars whooshing down Connecticut Avenue during the morning rush hour. Last night I heard the blossoming magnolia trees described as "riotous" and I dare say the daffodils could be considered rambunctious.
At the start of each season, I am made aware of how the changes in the landscape and weather lead me to live "sensibly" according to the definition of the word in David Whyte's poem. For the first few days I notice my senses shifting. I am awake to the new sights, sounds, smells, sensations and I simply revel in this awareness. Then, after a few days, I begin to look for what lies beneath-- for what I overhear being whispered to my soul in its silence.
Unfortunately, this awareness is all too fleeting. If this spring is like others I've lived through, by the end of March I'll barely notice the birds as I get up and begin my day. But for this morning, I think I'll make a cup of tea and sit and listen by the window for just a while longer.
How are you living sensibly this season?
What
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