Art, poetry, & flowers, and the greatest of all these is… well, trick question, can’t decide, all are my favorites. If you frequent this blog, you probably already know that I’m grateful for many things on this earth that spins right round. Today, for instance, I found myself feeling thankful for the soulful and spirited poetry of Blythe Baird.
A couple of her poems really inspired me (such as theories about the universe), but i found myself wanting to read and re-read you are a force of nature. To make the poem available for my reading pleasure come morning, afternoon and evening, I transferred my favorite lines onto a flower pot. Fitting for a girl who loves poetry, flowers and art, right?
We had a wonderful weekend of, well, not much, and it could not have been more wonderful. I made breakfast-in-bed on Sunday, and then used my good deed to convince Jon to do a rah rah rah project with me. Of course he didn’t need much convincing, but he asked if I’d take a new work picture of him first, and if we could see Gravity in 3D after. Yes and yes, check check check.
I got a little playful with his work request, and drove us to a hotel downtown known for luxurious work spaces. Jon got new photos for the company directory and LinkedIn, and I had fun pretending I needed a new company photo too. Would either of these work?
After Jon got the most serious pictures possible (and I got the most silly, of course) we did a rah rah rah project that I’ve been looking forward to for a while: decorating bus-stops with poetry packets.
I did the gratitude experiment last Friday, and my list of things to be grateful for looks something like this:
8. Sunny days
(The order gets confusing after #2)
I wanted to incorporate poems into my random acts of happiness, and I figured that people waiting for the bus (especially on a cold day) might appreciate a poetic distraction.
By Lawrence Raab
Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.