Monday, April 29, 2013

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
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

-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"

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