May/June Notes

Knights, Black Cats, and the gift of (un)productivity 🐈‍⬛

Babies are delightful. They are not, however, conducive to productivity. In fact, they are productivity disruptors. My floors are not clean, my azaleas have not been pruned, and the number of times I’ve sat down to write this post is shocking. As a recovering performance addict, I’m slowly learning to recognize this forced (un)productivity as a gift. Robin, in her sweet dependency, has been an excellent teacher. Here are a few delights (un)productivity has gifted in the last few months:

• During my postpartum healing, I couldn’t hustle and bustle about in spring like I normally do. So I sat and witnessed spring unfurl around me. One afternoon, I watched a tiger swallowtail dip into a bright red tulip. The tip of its pale yellow wings poked delicately out of a saucer of petals, like a fancy lady sipping from a teacup. Pure enchantment—and I would have missed it if I’d been bustling.

• One particularly fussy dusk, I found myself rocking Robin on the front porch. As I lullabied her to sleep, Black Cat, the neighborhood stray, came to listen. He sat there twitching his tail, green eyes blinking. After he left, I witnessed three deer nibble their way through the front yard, all while the chimney swifts twittered about in that bat-like way they do, and the fireflies glowed golden against the growing black. It was magic. It was resonant.

“Resonance reminds us that the world is rich with meaning, and that meaning exists independently of our attempts to control or manufacture or even recognize it.” —David Zahl, The Big Relief

Gratitudes

I. Galahad and the Grail by Malcolm Guite

A retelling of the grail quest in ballad form, this has been a lovely listen on Hoopla. Themes of adventure, sacredness, and restoration—I found Lancelot’s confession scene particularly moving. The line “Christ who loves your soul” keeps ringing in my head. It’s very well done, and Guite’s prowess rhythm and rhyme continue to impress.

II. In defense of Danny Go!

Yes it’s YouTube, but Danny Go! has brought giggles and wiggles and squeals to our summer mornings. It’s silly and gets us moving, especially on hot days.

III. Goldfinches & Sunflowers

Three massive, branching sunflowers popped up in the raised beds in April and burst into bloom this June. The goldfinches are having a field day. I can see them from the kitchen window, flashes of brilliant yellow and black. I think what I love most is I have done nothing to arrange this little miracle. As Annie Dillard says, the question isn’t “What is the meaning?” the question is, “Why is it beautiful?” I’ve yet to find a satisfactory answer.

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Poem

Miracles

I’ve never seen the owls that caterwaul in the evening.
When the pinks and golds burn fast behind the house 
and the crickets test their strings.

If I stop.
If I stop and endure the incessant mosquito 
I might catch the steady glow of a lightning bug as he tries to find a lover
How like an ember he is, all heat and desire steady against the black.

I don’t know how the sunflower got there. 
I didn’t plant it.
But there she is, bold and brazen, doomed to die but radiant, radiant anyway, 
shouting at the bees and the birds to come and feast.

If I stop. 
If I still my body, my breath, my being, the bum bum of my chest
Sometimes that blessed jewel of a hummingbird will come and flirt with the zinnias. 
A little here, a little there. A little lantana on the side. 
Fifty wing beats a second. 
A thousand heartbeats a minute.

And it’s a miracle I tell you. 
A million little miracles 
shouting a symphony, 
a cacophony of cicada, of cricket, of caterwaul and 
can you hear it too? 

If I stop.
If I stop long enough to let the quiet speak, to let the awe seep and soak and spread  
I can taste it.

The miracle that I am here now meeting it with breath and blood and bone.
How like a lightning bug I am, burning against the black.

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