Limbo

      – Marie Howe

Each of them can't decide if there is a God

or if there is a self.

Do I have an I? one says

to another who seems distracted, looking out what might have been a window.

What is the difference between a self and a soul?

Is it true that one god is in relationship to each of us?

Or is the each of us an illusion, and we are the god we are looking for?

         That's what the distracted one is thinking and what

she wants to know,

and she wishes that other person would stop bothering her,

and she wishes she had more time to think about these things,

although she has all the time in the world.

秋日

萊納·瑪利亞·里爾克 Rainer Maria Rilke

譯文 秋日 （馮至）

主啊！是時候了。夏日曾經很盛大。
把你的陰影落在日規上，
讓秋風刮過田野。

讓最後的果實長得豐滿，
再給它們兩天南方的氣候，
迫使它們成熟，
把最後的甘甜釀入濃酒。

誰這時沒有房屋，就不必建築，
誰這時孤獨，就永遠孤獨，
就醒著，讀著，寫著長信，
在林蔭道上來回
不安地遊盪，當著落葉紛飛。

（ 來自: 畫卷 Das Buch der Bilder,1902）

不懂

那一天, 他說他冷, 他在壁爐裡起了火。七十幾度的天氣、人家都穿汗衫短褲呢, 他穿了兩三層, 還要起火。我想：多丟人啊！鄰居可以看到我們煙囪裡冒出的青煙。把暖氣開高一點, 不行嗎？他說他喜歡火, 壁爐裡的火。

我不懂。

他為什麼那麼寵愛我, 我也不懂。

La Floresta

June 12, 2012

Judging by the lighting and the shadow, this photo was taken in the morning hours– possibly around 7:30. Why did I take the picture that day and at that hour? I can't remember. We were going to see a medical oncologist from Florida Hospital that afternoon, and another one from MD Anderson the following day.

Things were rough since late April when we were told his cancer had made a come back.

That morning I felt I had all the time in my hand to take some pictures. Or, that morning I sensed that time was running out and I needed to take some pictures and make some notes as the guy did in the movie Memento. I don't remember which was my reason but time did run out.

I knew we were running out of time but I never realized the urgency.

Wild Geese

~ Mary Oliver ~

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

A certain weariness

-- Pablo Neruda. Extravagaria. Trans.  Alastair Reid. Farrar, Straus 

& Giroux, 1974.

I don't want to be tired alone,

I want you to grow tired along with me.

How can we not be weary

of the kind of fine ash

which falls on cities in autumn,

something which doesn't quite burn,

which collects in jackets

and little by little settles,

discolouring the heart.

I'm tired of the harsh sea

and the mysterious earth.

I'm tired of chickens --

we never know what they think,

and they look at us with dry eyes

as though we were unimportant.

Let us for once--I invite you--

be tired of so many things,

of awful aperitifs,

of a good education.

Tired of not going to France,

tired of at least

one or two days in the week

which have always the same names

like dishes on the table,

and of getting up--what for? --

and going to bed without glory.

Let us finally tell the truth:

we never thought much of

these days that are like

houseflies or camels.

I have seen some monuments

raised to titans,

to donkeys of industry.

They're there, motionless,

with their swords in their hands

on their gloomy horses.

I'm tired of statues.

Enough of all that stone.

If we go on filling up

the world with still things,

how can the living live?

I am tired of remembering.

I want men, when they're born,

to breathe in naked flowers,

fresh soil, pure fire,

not just what everyone breathes.

Leave the newborn in peace!

Leave room for them to live!

Don't think for them,

don't read them the same book;

let them discover the dawn

and name their own kisses.

I want you to be weary with me

of all that is already well done,

of all that ages us.

Of all that lies in wait

to wear out other people.

Let us be weary of what kills

and of what doesn't want to die.

At Your Service

Thursday, July 12, 2011

It rained on and off all day yesterday. I went to Amy's memorial service in the afternoon at (our) All Saints Church. Amy was a fitness coach at the Y. I didn't really know her well, even though I always admired her spirit. I decided to go to the service because of the church.

The service was very beautiful and the church was packed. It just happened that I sat between two ladies I know and like very well. Cynthia is the hygienist at the dentist office. The dentist, Dr. M, passed away last September at home under hospice care. John always thought Dr. M was "saintly". The other doctor John regarded as "saintly" is Dr. R, the nephrologist.

The other lady, Laurie, used to work at the local YMCA. She left 3-4 years ago to work for Florida Hospital. We liked her very much and kept in touch with her. When John was hospitalized three weeks ago, I was one day going to get something to eat and saw Laurie on the escalator near the cafeteria. She came to John’s room and visited several times. She was out of town last week visiting her daughter and I forgot to let her know that John passed away. She asked about John and was saddened, although not surprised, by the news.

I think it must be John's arrangement to have those two people sitting with me. I am glad that I went.

The Last Butterfly

Monday, June 25, 2012

I took the last "butterfly" tonight. It is the sleeping pill Dr. H. prescribed and the date was 2/6/2009. Lunesta used a butterfly to represent sleep and dream in their TV commercial, so we just called it butterfly. When we switched to Dr. P. as Dr. H. joined a "concierge medical service", P. gave us "rooster" which made me uncomfortable in the morning and I really hated it. Luckily I found out the over-the-counter PM worked just fine.
       But not lately. John's health had not been good. On Thursday, June 21st he was hospitalized. And I took the last butterfly tonight.
       He is very depressed and willing to give up all hope. What am I going to do?

Grass

     by Ruth L. Schwartz

     from Dear Good Naked Morning


Yesterday, and the day before that,
the cows ate grass.
Tomorrow, and the next, and every day after that,
the cows will eat grass.
They’ll eat until they can’t stand up,
and even then, collapsed upon the earth in their last hours,
if they can reach it with their mouths, they’ll eat grass.
They’ll eat until they’ve eaten it all, until there are only
a few stray blades
halfway buried under boulders – then
they’ll nudge aside the boulders
with their large and knowing lips,
and eat that grass, too.

Only the smallest calves, today
the ones no bigger than dogs, are lying down.
They gaze out onto the landscape like dreamers:
the sky marbled with fatty clouds;
they cherry trees beginning to leaf;
the first few poppies, unfurling their cadmium banners;
the fences making some things possible, and others difficult;
the shadows falling from, and following, each thing;
and the world seems so strange, so common and wondrous
at once, that the calves ask the cows eating grass,
Is this all there is?
And the answer comes back from mouths full of grass:
This is all there is.

Between Real and Unreal

Wednesday,  June 27, 2012

A few days ago I had a dream. I was taking notes from a doctor. He made three points, I wrote down two. I asked him to repeat the third one for me. And he said, I don't remember it now.

I thought, How could you not remember it? You are the doctor and you just said those three things! And I realized that I was dreaming and I dreamed up the doctor as well as the three points. And if I couldn't remember the third point, the doctor surely wouldn't be able to remember it.

I woke up from that dream, very upset.

The line between real and unreal is getting thinner for me. I do not know what is right, what is true, what is real. I park my car in the hospital garage, walk over the bridge to the main building, taking the escalator down to the lobby and walk to elevator bank A, taking it to floor 8, and walk into room 8231 for the day. And that is my reality now.