basket weaving by the seat of my trousers

“There were no sex classes. No friendship classes. No classes on how to navigate a bureaucracy, build an organization, raise money, create a database, buy a house, love a child, spot a scam, talk someone out of suicide, or figure out what was important to me. Not knowing how to do these things is what messes people up in life, not whether they know algebra or can analyze literature.” -William Upski Wimsatt (someone please fact check the link between this name and this quote...)

Inspired in part by the above quote and this music (The Lone Bellow)

after spending a weekend sorting, organizing, and scanning 29 years of photos

on the occasion of the anniversary of my becoming a mother

my first poem in a long while

basket weaving by the seat of my trousers

life is a little easier

when we know every human

we meet is flying

by the seat of his or her pants

especially when we remember

we ourselves don't have working navigational systems

or radio contact. it's important to be

in our bodies, and to have faith

in our ability to literally feel our way through

the fog. it is enough to listen,

to listen to your friend, to listen to your heart,

to listen to your own voice while you are talking,

to listen to the wind in the trees, to listen

to the song of love, and to know

every crack in every heart can

be healed

lovingly knit it with threads

of honest kindness. you

are a basket woven

it is your job to keep your basket repaired

to consciously choose

what goes in the basket and what stays

out. your brokenness cannot help

but allow some darkness to seep

out onto others and cause breaks in other hearts,

the brokenness of others cannot help but overflow

onto yours. forgive.

especially forgive yourself for not

knowing. and forgive everyone

who breaks you

for not knowing better. and learn. learn and create

safety.

learn and create nurture. learn and create

a place

where each person can say

what their broken heart looks like

how they plan to sew it up

so it can hold love

to the point of overflowing.

so it can hold

you.

-barbara l. walker 2013 morgantown wv

 (I'm having a hard time doing the above these days.)

 (I stopped eating sugar, and now I have these STUPID things called feelings. Wah!)

Idiom etymology... "by the seat of one's pants"