when springtime lives up to its billing: equal parts shadow and light
by bam
according to celestial alignments, the shadow now is equal, light and dark. the sun has crossed the equator, and here on the northern half of the orb, spring is upon us. except that as i type, snow is blanketing my tender spring tendrils, and the walk is slick, and, well, tis the very picture of springtime here in the heartlands, where you’re wise not to count your blooms before the ides of may.
my heart too is heavy, beating in time with that of a mother i know who is off in the mountains of northern california searching for her blessed daughter who went hiking from the tassajara zen mountain center on monday, and five days and cold dark nights later still has not been found. i ask for prayers for caroline.
motherhearts are a communal collective. we cannot pause the pounding against our own chest wall, we cannot sleep soundly, when we know profoundly of another mother in unimaginable distress. be it the mothers of syria, or gaza, or israel’s kibbutzim, or my long-ago newsroom compatriot now strapped into her hiking boots, hearing only the echo of her own cry as she walks the remote yet exquisite topography where, somewhere, her firstborn is lost, is lying, is awaiting her mama’s arms and a wrapping in blankets.
my prayers have been looping nonstop, clouding out most other thoughts, since i first heard word. caroline’s mama is a woman of incredible, unbreakable faith. the notes she is sending back home, here in chicago, bolster my faltering. “my gratitude and hope outweigh my fears,” she wrote in her last short update, teaching me a thing or two about how to be strong in the face of the unbearable.
because the promise of springtime is, indeed, equal parts shadow and light, i turn to the poets for a dappling of light. and we begin with emily, the belle of amherst, and quickly turn to the little-known artist who inspired her:
“to be a flower,” emily dickinson wrote in her 1865 poem, “bloom,” considered a pre-ecological work, “is profound responsibility.”
a passionate lifelong gardener, emily D (“a keen observer of the house of life who made of it a temple of beauty,” as cultural critic maria popova once put it) had fallen under the spell of wildflowers as a teenager while composing her herbarium of 424 blooms native to new england. but, writes popova, it was an “uncommonly beautiful” book her father gave her just before she turned thirty that rocket-blasted her poetic passion for nature’s own garden: wild flowers drawn and colored from nature by the botanical artist and poet clarissa munger badger (may 20, 1806–december 14, 1889).
published in 1859, the same year charles darwin’s on the origin of species shook science, badger’s book “contained twenty-two exquisite scientifically accurate paintings of common new england wildflower species — violets and harebells, the rhododendron and the honeysuckle — each paired with a poem bridging the botanical and the existential: some by titans like percival and longfellow, some by long-forgotten poets of her time and place, some by badger herself,” writes popova.
seven years later, badger brought her brush to the beauty of wildflowers’ domestic counterparts, the blooms of greenhouse and garden: the pansy and the lily, the day-blazing geranium and the night-blooming cactus, the tulip and the rose, and once again pairing her paintings with poems, she celebrated garden flowers as “brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues,” as “stars… wherein we read our history.”
another poet, one i dream of sitting down to dinner with, or more in keeping with her ilk, plopping on a porch swing, she with cigarette burning orange against the black of night, me, merely pumping my merry little legs. dorianne laux is her name, and you’ve seen me write of her here. she has a brand new craft book, companion of sorts to her earlier the poet’s companion, and the new book, finger exercises for poets, is “an engaging invitation to practice poetry alongside a master,” and it’ll be out this july from w.w. norton & company. (they still send me advance reader copies; bless them.)
here’s a passage i knew i needed to share, from glorious, glorious dorianne’s introduction:
“My instrument is the immensity of language, the techniques and effect of crafting images, shaping sound and rhythm, creating new combinations with the single notes of words, each colliding or coming together, meshing or crashing, standing firm or tumbling. There are eighty-eight keys on a piano, six hundred thousand words in the English language. The patterns, the sequences, and permutations of both are endless. For me, language is another kind of music.
“I practice poetry. This book invites you to practice along with me.”
and i close, this snowy spring morning, with yet another master of language, and truth-telling: james baldwin. (this comes to me from a french monk whose writing i follow; laurence freeman is his name, and here’s a bit of what he sent this week from the bonnevaux centre for peace, in the southwest of france): “toward the end of his life, baldwin gave a television interview in which he was asked to reflect on the essential subject of his classic, groundbreaking novel, giovanni’s room. baldwin’s answer is an extraordinary meditation on love, and in particular, how it can serve a kind of educational purpose in our lives.” here’s what baldwin said, laid out as a poem.
Q: What’s the novel, Giovanni’s Room, about?
Baldwin’s answer:
It’s about what happens to you
if you can’t love anybody.
It doesn’t make any difference
whether you can’t love a woman,
or can’t love a man —
if you can’t love anybody,
you’re dangerous.
Because you’ve no way
of learning humility.
No way of learning
that other people suffer.
No way of learning
how to use your suffering,
and theirs, to get from one place
to another.
In short, you fail the human
responsibility, which is
to love each other.
+ James Baldwin
what are the lessons of love you learned in this week of shadow and light?
p.s. illustration at the top is indeed one of clarissa munger badger’s beauties. and i will ask once again, please please offer up prayers for rescue for blessed, blessed caroline, her mama, her papa, and all who are holding their most sacred breath…..
good morning,
today requires that I pull up a chair.
I can clearly see the mother of Caroline . I see her from behind as her boots work ever so hard to move her along the path she has chosen today , her eyes ever scanning scanning the terrain of this night mare.
this story has stoped me in my tracks. Shaking my head with heart in throat as only a mother knows. Prayers, sympathy, empathy and all the the words you have circling your thoughts.waiting for the exhausted exhale.
I will introduce myself another day. I am also in the heartland and watching the snow falling on the newly announced spring.
Bless you, bless you. I see something too. Which is why I am praying so hard. Thank you, thank you. Eternally thank you.
Oh my goodness. Heartfelt prayers for Caroline and her family. . . .
thank you. In the amazing small world that is the chair, one of my all-time loves, my Mary, tells me her daughter-in-law is among the search teams scouring mountain, stream, and trail right now.
Caroline’s story compelled me to find more information about her situation. From the news photos, it is very rugged country. Her mother says Caroline was an experienced hiker and resilient. A Facebook page has been created for her search information (link below). Many prayers and Buddhist ceremonies for her well being are being offered, and reading all those positive wishes was comforting for me. From the Lovingkindness meditation – May she be safe and protected and free from inner and outer harm. May she be happy and contented. May she be healthy and whole to whatever degree possible. May she experience ease of well-being.
Facebook page 🙏https://www.facebook.com/groups/1787371855108828/
thank you, paula.
Sending so many prayers, positive thoughts, and good wishes to Caroline and her family. May God’s glorious love shine on all of them.
thank you, thank you. and bless you.
BAM, thank you for letting us know about the situation with Caroline. Like you, I feel one with her mother. What a blessing that her mother can say something like” My gratitude and hope outweigh my fears.” That’s a good mantra to embrace for all of us these days. Sending peace and love to all involved, including you! 💗
amen.
My heart aches for the hearts that love Caroline. Prayers abound.
thank you. xox
sweet friends, the search has ended. please please pray for the soul of caroline, and for all those who so dearly and deeply loved her. and thank you. love, b.
Oh, Barbara … oh, oh, oh … no words. Crushing.