Haiku

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DAY AT THE BEACH

Belly sagging down
Against the warm, shell-pricked sands--
Trembling breath--out, in.
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I'd like to introduce: Miss Lily White

Meet Lily.

It was a cat-filled week. Our friends Cathy and Pat asked us to check in on their cat, Daisey, while they were away on vacation. So we went to see her every day this past week, fed her, and played for a while. To my utter amazement, she was very welcoming and sweet to us each day (she can be a little moody). It was fun.

In the meantime, the little lady whose picture you see here was hanging around our house. She was skinny, so of course we fed her...and she kept hanging around. We checked newspapers and vets, and looked for any notices or posters, but we didn't find anything. So we made an appointment with our vet, and took her in for inoculations and a checkup. The vet told us that there was a mushrooming problem with people dumping their pets if they've been foreclosed on, and that that may be why no one was looking for her. She's extremely friendly--a lap cat--and appeared well cared for, though the vet was pretty sure she had a tapeworm. FeLV and FIV tests were negative. The only problem is that the vet couldn't find a spaying scar, which will be an issue if she got pregnant during her wandering. But we have to go back for more shots in three weeks, so the vet can check again to see if she feels pregnant. I'd hate to pay for surgery, only to find out that she'd already been spayed. If she's not pregnant, there's no reason for surgery. With males you have the spraying issue, but a female in heat is no big deal.

There's been a bit of hissing going on around here, not least from Lily herself. It seems fairly obvious that she's never been around other cats. She's a brave little thing, though. The vet thinks she's about five or six years old, but she only weighs seven pounds, three ounces, making her the smallest of our cats. By the way, she's all white. Anyway, we're kind of excited to have her!

May

Okay, another meme thing. I couldn't resist this one because I'm so interested in words. Click at the bottom to give yourself the quiz.

(It was right on for me--non-Boston-area northeast.)

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Northeast Judging by how you talk you are probably from north Jersey, New York City, Connecticut or Rhode Island. Chances are, if you are from New York City (and not those other places) people would probably be able to tell if they actually heard you speak.
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The Midland
The South
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Cadeaux!

An artist named Anne, at her beautiful 'Bulles Dorees' blog, is having a giveaway to celebrate her six-month blog anniversary. You can check it out here, and also see her gorgeous artwork. Happy anniversary, Anne!

I've decided to put my poems from my other blog (a non-starter) on this blog, so they'll all be in the same place. Here they are.

Psychopomp

I
am
happy
to
hear
your
equinox
voice
again,
dear catbird.

Sing
your
message,
curt
or
kind –
shock
of
brazen
sunlight
or
miles
of
numinous
night –
and
my
voice
will
rise
to
greet
it.
Come.

May Terry

Interdependence

How can the spindly sycamore
photosynthesize enough
for that 14 foot trunk
and the tower of branch
and smaller branch,
and smaller still, new and
struggling to reach out,
with that sparse lace of leafy
canopy?

I guess we have to count on
Nature to mother it,
as she does the lilies of the field,
and the small determined sparrow.

I, too, count on her,
but I know that she, also,
must count on me.
Take care.

May Terry

It's always interesting to reread my poems after not seeing them for a while. I'd rate the first one okay, I guess, but I think the second one sucks, with the possible exception of the second stanza.

I reread this one recently, and I've decided it's almost sort of good. So there you have it.

Buzz

It's been a long time since I've written a "real" post to this blog. Call it writer's block, or laziness, or whatever you want--the fact is I've been feeling rather flat lately, emotionally speaking. I've been filling in my time with reading, watching baseball on TV, anything to avoid admitting to myself that I'm mildly depressed, and to keep from obsessing about death.

Today I turned off the small TV we keep in the computer room. John had been watching the Olympics while working on his computer. I rarely watch that set, so I noticed that it turns off in a different way from the living room TV--it fades very quickly to a spot, making a buzzing sound as it does so, then goes dark.

While riding to get the takeout, I found myself remembering a poem I first read in high school, by Emily Dickenson:

I heard a Fly buzz -- when I died --
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air --
Between the Heaves of Storm --

The Eyes around -- had wrung them dry --
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset -- when the King
Be witnessed -- in the Room --

I willed my Keepsakes -- Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable -- and then it was
There interposed a Fly --

With Blue -- uncertain stumbling Buzz --
Between the light -- and me --
And then the Windows failed -- and then
I could not see to see --

I'm not a big Dickenson fan, but this poem surely captures the most we can guess about the moment of death, and evokes the visceral fear that I believe most people feel about dying, whether they admit it or not.

Mostly I fear that I won't be able to breathe to breathe, if you know what I'm trying to say. My obsessing over death the past few months has made it difficult for me to enjoy the summer. I do a lot of lying around, and am ashamed to have become such a couch potato. I keep expecting for something--liver or kidney failure, brain metastases--to come and announce to me that this is it, you only have a few months, or weeks.

What a waste. Why can't I stop?

A thought...

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"We can reject everything else: religion, ideology, all received wisdom. But we cannot escape the necessity of love and compassion.... This, then, is my true religion, my simple faith. In this sense, there is no need for temple or church, for mosque or synagogue, no need for complicated philosophy, doctrine or dogma. Our own heart, our own mind, is the temple. The doctrine is compassion. Love for others and respect for their rights and dignity, no matter who or what they are: ultimately these are all we need. So long as we practice these in our daily lives, then no matter if we are learned or unlearned, whether we believe in Buddha or God, or follow some other religion or none at all, as long as we have compassion for others and conduct ourselves with restraint out of a sense of responsibility, there is no doubt we will be happy."

~ Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama ~

(Remembering the people of Tibet

and the victims of Tiananmen Square

on the opening of the Beijing Olympics )

What kind of thinker am I?

Okay, I'm back to blogging, after a period of nail-biting and existential angst. You're right, you don't want to hear about it.

What got me back here is another one of those silly quizzes. This one is called, "What kind of a thinker are you?" I cannot resist those things. So flattering, that they want to know, don't you think?

Anyway, here's the quiz:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/leonardo/thinker_quiz/

Below are my results. They got me to a 'T', linking me in a very agreeable way with the likes of William Shakespeare and Mother Teresa (one of my heroes). Irritatingly enough, I can't post anything after the box below, so you'll have to tune in to subsequent posts to read any more from me. I'll bet you can't wait.

You are an Interpersonal Thinker.

Interpersonal thinkers: Like to think about other people, and try to understand them Recognise differences between individuals and appreciate that different people have different perspectives Make an effort to cultivate effective relationships with family, friends and colleagues
Like interpersonal thinkers, Leonardo had lots of friends and contacts, and was a popular figure at the Italian court.		Other Interpersonal thinkers include Winston Churchill, Mother Teresa, William Shakespeare Careers which suit Interpersonal thinkers include Politician, Psychologist, Nurse, Counselor, Teacher