Have you noticed something different about me lately? Well, yeah, I did henna my hair, but I was referring to this. Right here. Ta-da! I have a blog now. I've suddenly become a Person With A Blog. I think it looks good on me, don't you?
So I'm going to start you off with a story, because this particular story will explain the name of my blog. Plus it's a good story.
When I lived in Seattle in the late 1980's, I frequented a little coffee shop called Espresso Roma. I had a lot of studying to do; they had free refills. So I spent a lot of time there. It just so happened that I read a book of James Wright's poetry around that time, and I fell in love with his poem, “A Blessing,” in particular, the last three lines. And one day, I wrote those lines on Espresso Roma's bathroom wall:
Suddenly I realize / That if I stepped out of my body I would break / Into blossom.
I signed it “JW.”
Well, it must have been a week or two later that I returned and found that someone had written directly below those lines, in tiny, perfect, print:
I'm out, Broken, Blossoming.
TC
And I fell in all over love again. With words, with poetry, with TC whoever he or she was, with the whole of everything.
It's surprising, isn't it? How a small, seemingly pointless, action can make a world of difference? How a few words, placed just so, can step you out of wherever you were and break you into blossom?
I guess that's why I'm here, wearing my freshly pressed blog. I hope you enjoy it. Stop by again, Okay?
A Blessing by James Wright
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
