When the email didn't work this week, I figured the internet was down all over town, and to tell you the truth, was kind of relieved. My house is full-- with Eliza and baby James and JJ and for a bit her husband, and then their Haines sisters and children are here, and well, let's just say we are now in full Camp Mimi mode. (There are three Golden Retrievers too, and three chickens, and four baby Stellar Jays in a nest on top of the light on the corner of the garage that we are very protective of.)
When my children were small, they used to ask "who is the boss of this place?" and I'd answer "I am" or "your father is" if I needed back-up. It's a good thing to know. Tom Morphet asked a similar question in an editorial in the Chilkat Valley News two weeks ago, after a really busy weekend. "Who is in charge of scheduling in this town?" and he answered, "No one. Should there be?" And made a good case for it, as on Saturday May 14 there were five big events all happening in our small town.
"There is a faith in morningtime,
there is belief in noon.
Evening will come whispering
and shine a bright round moon."
-- From the children's book All in a Day by Cynthia Rylant and illustrated by Nikki McClure.
(I read it to the girls in a quieter moment from Friday at Mimi's. And don't you just know it is true -- there is a faith in morningtime.)
Brian Doyle says that religion, and religious practice-- like attending a specific church say-- is the boat believers and seekers choose to carry us over the sea of faith. It's harder to swim that alone, and even more challenging to do it without any kind of map or compass.
Thanks to poet Emily Wall and the Skagway writers symposium last week, I'm learning to write haikus. You know, those short poems with typically-- and best to begin with this form-- three lines of five, seven, and five syllables each that you compose by counting on your fingers while tapping the beat? She said it is best to begin with two lines of images, and add a twist-- a thought, an idea, a question, or even a unexpected image in the final line.
I have been full steam ahead on the garden, family, and preparing to head to Skagway for the Northwords Writers Symposium (today thru Saturday.) I'll hop a fast ferry from the cruise ship dock right after I do my reading on the ship from 4-5. I haven't packed. I planted potatoes instead. And I went bike riding and fell this morning. I know, don't gasp. I'm fine.
"God, or the gods, are invisible, quite understandable. But holiness is visible, entirely." -- Mary Oliver
This is from Mary Oliver's new book of poems, Felicity. (This is how I find Sunday's Thought: with a cup of coffee, in my pajamas, on Sunday morning, browsing through books with goods thoughts in them, or something I underlined, or a page turned over, or sometimes, when I'm organized, which is rare, it's on a note that I made to myself after church or while reading, that says "good Sunday Thought SAVE!')
Lani Hotch from Klukwan, says that an elder once told her that that the ovoids you see in all Tlingit art are the eyes of God, or "the ever present spirit". Here's the big question-- which came first, the spirit or the art? Or are they perhaps the same? As Anne Lamott writes about why art-- literary or otherwise matters -- and why we keep creating it, "because of the spirit... because of the heart." This morning I spoke to a friend who is back in the light following a dark spell. She looked great, I told her.