Miasma—www.stufftoblowyourmind.com
The Virus and US
So, now, a miasma here.
Not only over there, somewhere
backward, but here too in our towns,
gleaning away the soft jostling of
American life; a little money
made and spent, children maturing,
mothers and fathers dying of old age, normal
as it should be, has been, is
normal no more.
The virus roils, exposes our naivety:
Humans have no more purchase of earth
than a virus.
Meet Russell Hvolbek:
Russell Hvolbek is an intellectual historian with a PhD from The University of Chicago. He has written three books, the most recent, Humans: What We Are and Why We Exist, argues that language and the historical fields they produce, brought humans beyond the grooves of nature. Humans came into existence when they became able to name themselves. Humans are a language-historical creation. He is concerned that the utilitarian realm of facts and data have so overwhelmed us, we can no longer ponder what we are.
Forgiveness isn’t for the perpetrator of our hurt, it’s for our own peace and happiness. Not letting go of hurt, pain, resentment, or anger harms us far more than it harms your sister, boyfriend, mother, boss, wife, friend. It frees us to live in the present without anger, contempt or seeking revenge. In fact, it doesn’t only free us from negative feelings and actions, it reduces depression and stress, allowing us to embrace peace, hope and self confidence. Forgiveness is a balm of healing for hurt, grievance and guilt; it is not acceptance of wrongs done to you or wrongs you have done to others. And it isn’t quick and easy—it’s a practice.
I’m the proverbial chicken without a head—running thither and yon, trying to catch up while I’m on semester break everything that has fallen behind. Do I have too many directions, activities, pursuits—hats? Sometimes I feel like a mosaic. Fit the pieces together and I might be surprised to find—me.
THE WHOLE WORLD IS A TELEPHONE BOOTH
This week, poet, Dominic “Nick” Triglia, shares his unique experience of the October firestorm.
Nick says this about himself:
I was born a “blue baby” in 1950 at the old hospital on Spring St. in Calistoga. The owners of the hospital always told me I was the last baby born there. When I found out they were wrong, I changed it to: I was the last good lookin baby born in the hospital.
I wore the blue uniform of the Postal Service for 34 years. I love blue skies, the deep blue sea, blue movies, listening to the blues, and drinking red wine.
Nick is also a producer of poetry events in the Upper Napa Valley
atlasobscura.com
The Whole World Is a Telephone Booth
15 items or less
express lane
in heavy traffic
woman shares
answers to questions
near the
National Enquirer rack
“We packed the RV
then unpacked
got another advisory
my brother in the urn
put back in the house”
Mom takes him back
to the RV
can’t decide
to take him or not
Dad said to leave him
“he’s only ashes anyway”
Mom said, “yeah
but that’s all I’ve got
of him, he’s goin.”
khan.com
Message Machine
She left his message
of not being home
“to leave a message”
on the phone
seven years
since his passing
his voice lets you know
that he and she
are not at home.
Evacuated
she calls their number
hears his voice
calls five times a day
said “if he answers
I know our home
is safe from the fire”
Each time she listens
to his recorded voice
she kisses the receiver.
greifhealingblog.com
Smoke over the Napa Valley October 2017. Marina Torres
M
Share this:
Like this:
5 Comments
Filed under Commentary, Fire Season, Poetry, Students
Tagged as fire stories, Poetry, telephone booths