Bruised Orange– At the Principle Gallery
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
— Mary Oliver
I failed to mention yesterday that, after hearing the news of the Roe v. Wade decision as I turned my car into our driveway, I proceeded to break a bone in my mid-foot within minutes of that moment. Ended up spending several hours in the ER that afternoon, which presented me with a cast and a pair of crutches as my work companions for next several weeks.
Friday sucked in so many ways.
I am hobbling around now, trying to figure out ways to do tasks that once seemed easy and effortless. Even getting a tube of paint takes thought and effort.
I am not complaining. This minor inconvenience is just that. In a time when so many have died or been stricken with long term symptoms from covid and when the political machinations of the Supreme Court have put so many more lives at grave risk, it could be a lot worse.
My little problem will undoubtedly get better eventually. There is no guarantee that those other problems will improve. It’s going to take an effort to make things change.
And the prospect for that has the worrying part of me, that well from which all my anxiety springs, on high alert in recent days.
I am using two pieces here today to try to quell that worry. One is the poem from poet Mary Oliver at the top that tells me to set aside my worries for the moment and sing.
It’s something good to hear on this Sunday.
The other is this week’s Sunday Morning Music selection which is the Otis Redding version of the eternal Sam Cooke song, A Change is Gonna Come. It’s a song instills in me the hope that we the people are up to the task of creating change.
It’s something good to hear on this Sunday.
Take a clue from the title of Otis’ album. Vote blue until you bleed red.
Redtree Times 