Speaking the unspoken . . .

It's Odin's day … and here in the Northeastern corner of Okieland forecasters are indicated a windy day with an unseasonably high temperature of 80º … the roller coaster ride into Spring has begun . .

Season changes have always brought out the muses of creatives, several of whom had birthdays today:

The prolific poet W H Auden was born in 1907 York, England. He moved to America in the late 1930s and became an American citizen.

It's the 121st birth anniversary of Anaïs Nin. The writer and diarist was born on this date in 1903 Neuilly, France.

Erma Bombeck was born on this day in 1927 Dayton, Ohio. The columnist and author was noted for her wit and insight.

David Foster Wallace would have been 62 years old today. Arguably, the voice of his generation was born today in 1962, Ithaca, New York.

And, on another sad note, today is the day 95 years ago that Malcom X was assassinated.

Human desire to transcend separation is more than 4,000 years old. dating to Pre-Greek, probably Stone Age rituals in the Elusian Mysteries of Demeter and Persephone. While the rites themselves are unknown, the message then and now remains : We are spirits living in a material world.

Clinging, grasping, separates. Letting go, unifies. – Tara Brach

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equally affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

– W. H. Auden

“The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.” – Anais Nin

Every which way . . .

It's the Moon's day … as it continues its waxing toward full five days away still rotating around the Earth and lit by the sun. . .

The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time. – Mary Oliver

Navigating The Way is often one of sinking, then floating. Akin to Fr. Rohr's notion of “falling upward.”

. . . meanstwhilst, the mailbox held reminders that today is President's Day …

… for the right reasons Joyce Vance is celebrating President's Day. And Heather Cox Richardson is remembering Abraham Lincoln.

True birthdays today include Carson McCullers. The short-story writer and novelist (The Heart is a a Lonely Hunter) was born in 1917 Columbus, Georgia.

Amy Tan is 72 today. The novelist (The Joy Luck Club) was born in 1952 Oakland, California.

Nobel Prize winning author Toni Morrison was born yesterday in 1931 Lorain, Ohio.

And, the astronomer Copernicus was born on this date in 1473 Toruń, Poland. His theory of a sun centered galaxy with the earth no longer the center of the universe got Galileo in deep trouble with the Catholic Church which today celebrates space exploration.

We didn't start this fire. My Houston TX friend Allyson sent me this one as an artist's gift from her to me to you (art: any expression transcending the time in which it was manifested) …

. . . from “As If to Demonstrate an Eclipse”

[S]inging the room full of shadows,
as sun and earth and moon
circle one another in their impeccable orbits
. . . I get more and more cockeyed with gratitude.

– Billy Collins, “As If to Demonstrate an Eclipse” in Nine Horses, Random House, 2003

Low flying owls . . .

It's Satyr's day … and the probable last of the Winter blustery is moving on Northerlies through TulseyTown but not enough to take the chill out of two late Valentines:

On true love .... From Garrison Keillor. And, from David Whyte.

When you argue with reality, you will lose only 100% of the time. – Debra Poneman

Mystics understand that we are moons, not suns, except in our ability to pass on the light. – Richard Rohr.

Navalny

– ...except as we have loved, all news arrives as from a distant land. – Mary Oliver 1

After the news, the neighborhood owl

is asking “How come bad news seems

always to come from some

somewhere far enough away

for our silent response?”

“Silence,” she says, “makes accomplices

of us all. But, neither the wind, leaves,

nor I am silent.

Neither are your poets.

Listen,” she says.

Strong Northerlies at high volume

howling ahead of the annual transition

the last of Fall's leaves sent into chaos

mad swirling,

if not dancing,

across the tarmac floor,

sing like raindrops on a carport roof,

whisper high up in the Maples

songs about early Spring buds

of daring Oaks.

– jab 2/16/2024

1 Mary Oliver, “Beyond the Snow Belt,” No Voyage and Other Poems. Beacon Press, Boston, 1963, 1965.