Wednesday, January 04, 2023

SJT and Poetry Friday and OLW, all in one!

As my break from school barrels to a close, I am taking some time to write down the thoughts that have been going through my mind about my OLW (One Little Word) for 2023. That's the theme for our SJT (Spiritual Journey Thursday) group for January, and I'm going to include a poem so that this post will do double duty for Poetry Friday, too. So Happy New Year to you and to me!


In 2022, my OLW was BEGINNER. I knew it would be appropriate because I was moving to a new country and a new job. What I didn't know was that I would do that again in August, when we moved to our current home, Kampala, Uganda. Do I recommend making two international moves to two different continents in one year? I do not. But did my focus on being a beginner and giving myself grace to be OK with being a beginner help me deal with the intense stress of the year? Yes it did. 


As I thought through the events of 2022, there was a lot of heaviness in my memories. A lot of grief and loss happened. But the year was also full of incredible adventure and fun. 

 

2022 was the year I became a cyclist again. Since I joined Strava in April, I rode over 1900 miles (over 3000 kilometers), mostly with my husband on one of three tandem bicycles in three different countries, but also some on a single bike. Cycling burned stress, helped me see an enormous amount of beauty, and made me stronger and happier. 

 

In 2022 I continued my birding habit, seeing an unbelievable 407 species in five countries. I've written a lot on this blog about what birding means to me, so I won't go into that again, but birding brought me so much pleasure in a year when I needed that! I sometimes observed on my own, and sometimes with others, and both were fabulous. And I learned so very much! 


I also spent time with wonderful people in 2022. I said many goodbyes, but at my age and with my international background, I am well aware that goodbyes go with the territory. They hurt, but somehow I find the strength to move on and make new friendships. 


So, I wondered, what did these good things about 2022 have in common? What OLW could I choose so that I could have more of these good things in 2023? I know I can't make the year have no pain in it, because I will be living this year on Planet Earth, and pain is part of life. But I would like to have a year of joy and fun, as much as possible. I'm so tired of heaviness and struggle. The opposite of heaviness is lightness, and I gave serious consideration to Light, or Lightness, as my OLW. But then I started thinking about things that are light, like bicycles and birds and easy, non-stressful relationships, and I settled on a word with some more metaphorical resonance: FEATHER. 

 



Lightness doesn't come very easily to me. I have lived for many years in Haiti, which is now in free fall. It's hard to focus on delight and fun with that knowledge in the back of my mind at all times. As alluded to above, I have some heaviness in my recent past. And I know it's shallow of me, but I've also learned more and more this past year that I am not a minimalist, and I miss my possessions lost this year, my cupboard full of mugs for my tea, my array of teapots, my thousands of books that surrounded me, my kids' rooms even though the kids weren't in them any more. Now we live more lightly, in a small apartment with only a few books, most of those borrowed. There are good things about this lighter life, but it's also an adjustment. 


Feathers are light, but they aren't flimsy and they aren't trivial. They are perfectly designed for their purposes, which are several. They are strong. When lost or molted, they grow back. They are gorgeous, in all the colors of the rainbow and more, with iridescence and improbable patterns. Feathers are glorious. 


And Hildegard of Bingen, the twelfth century mystic, called herself "a feather on the breath of God." That's how I want to think of myself this year as I learn to embrace this lighter life. 


In addition to aiming for lightness this year, I want to read and write more about feathers. This poem by Ross Gay includes both feathers and the idea of focusing on delight. 

 


Sorrow is Not My Name

by Ross Gay


—after Gwendolyn Brooks

 

No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color's green. I'm spring. 


      —for Walter Aikens
 
 
 
 

 

15 comments:

Margaret Simon said...

I am swooning over this quote, "a feather on the breath of God." What a lovely way to think of your life. I am sorry for your losses and understand how hard it is to leave behind a place that filled you, but I am glad you are safe and finding adventure. You are an inspiration, a breath, a feather. Bless you in this new year.

arjeha said...

Ruth, after the year(s) we have had we all need to find some lightness. We have been burdened by trying times. When I think of a feather I think of birds soaring high in the sky. During this year may we all find a way to lighten our hearts and soar above the problems that bog us down even if it is only for a little time.

Patricia Franz said...

I hear and feel the longing for lightness - in your words, in your OLW, in Gay's poem. St. Ignatius speaks of detachment as a healthy distance that allows us to accept whatever the circumstance. Feathers feel like an illustration of this concept to me - providing the lift we need to rise, even when we struggle. Thank you for this!

Linda Mitchell said...

I am in love with the word, "feather." I think you are going to love following a word that is a noun and a verb. When I chose "ox" two years ago I was just amazed that a word I thought was odd showed up in my life. Happy New Year, Ruth. You've had enough heaviness. I'm wishing you life full lightness...the lightness of a feather.

Kay said...

I love your word feather--the combination of lightness and strength and beauty. May you find feathers that lift you on the wind this year.

Carol Varsalona said...

Ruth, I am sorry for the heaviness of this past year but you are on a new path (again) in another new land. I believe the weight of the sorrow will be lifted and let you feel the lightness of feathers in your life. I, too, will ponder on the beautiful quote "a feather on the breath of God. Be of good spirits and enjoy your new adventure.

Linda B said...

I continue to watch the news from Haiti, Ruth, and think of you & the sadness of your leaving. And, I admire you for taking on the challenges of two new countries, and doing such wonderful things in both, bicycling & the birding, too! "Feather" feels like a wonderful word to carry you on through this new year. It's a lovely poem with a title that seems just for you. I have been re-reading Ted Kooser's Winter Morning Walks, often somber but also showing his novel ways to look at things. I just read a poem where he queries about a flock of robins facing forward into a cold winter wind, concluding "They perch like this/to keep their feathers smooth." Feels like a good piece of advice, doesn't it? Happy New Year!

Mary Lee said...

What a great OLW! May your year be filled with lightness and light, feathers and feathering.

Ramona said...

Somehow in the madness of moving for the first time in 25 years, I missed knowing about your 2nd move. No wonder you're seeking feathers and lightness. And learning to adjust to your new life in a new place.
I love the poem and it's new to me. This line especially -
"after arranging that good suit of feathers . . ."
May you feel light and comfort and feathers among the grief and loss and adjusting.

Fran Haley said...

I love the choice of 'feather' and how it represents the lightness that doesn't come naturally to you - feathers ARE glorious. Thank you for the gorgeous poetic offering - blessings to you in this new year.

KatApel - katswhiskers.wordpress.com said...

And straight away, I thought of this exquisite verse. "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." (Psalm 91:4)
You inspire me, Ruth.

Catherine Flynn said...

I'm sorry for the heaviness of your past year. Your choice of "feather" for your OLW is inspired! I hope it carries you through 2023 "on the breath of God." Thank you for sharing.

Heidi Mordhorst said...

Ruth, thank you. Your choice is a guide for me, not just in its specificity but in the way you arrived in the understanding of its graceful manyness--the definition of light and airy but also strong and beautiful in its construction. I have wanted to come back to an OLW but I've disappointed myself in the past being unable to focus, but you make me want to try again. And that Ross Gay poem kicks the steel from my knees and makes me want to sink down in gratitude. Be well in 2023, Ruth, on your bicycle wings!

Karen Eastlund said...

Feather is a perfect word for you. I'm so proud of your courage. Thank you for sharing your journey. I look forward to more. Many blessings...

Janet said...

I read this yesterday, and your paragraph about loss -- your children's rooms, books (as you describe in your next post), many things -- has stayed on my mind. You manage to make even awful things into written beauty, and probably life beauty based on the attitude you express here. God bless.