Sunday, December 01, 2013

keeping quiet


 Yesterday was the perfect end of November day. We took a long walk on Nicollet Avenue with Gus loping ahead of us. So nice to have a dog who knows enough to stick around. The sky was bright blue and the sun was warm. We had a visit from Bob and the grandkids, we watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, and the day ended with this beautiful sunset.

The Christmas season will begin slowly at our house. Yesterday, I put up the Swedish candelabra. Today, I am going to put away the November stuff...the turkeys, the pumpkins, the Thanksgiving flag. I might drag a Christmas tub out of the basement but I am going to look at everything with a critical eye. Is this really something I want to keep? I haven't done any shopping and don't really plan to do any. I might wander down to the local shops one day just for fun.


I am working on my plan for letting go this month. I have reminders like this that will be tacked around the house as reminders. I'm re-writing my morning meditation and taking a new slant in my journal. Ahhh...take a deep breath and let go.




Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

—from Extravagaria (translated by Alastair Reid, pp. 27-29, 1974)

 That's it for today. Take a couple of deep breaths and just look out the window. It's not a race.

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