To honor Michael, since I cannot make it to Rockyford tomorrow, I want to ask Fr. Klink to read these words for me. \u00a0Please, also, read this saying that Dom Helder spoke in the years before he died in 1999 in Brazil. \u00a0 Think of it as a blessing for Mike\u2019s sending.<\/p>\n
“Since word came to me last Sunday that Mike had died he\u2019s been on my mind – – remembering him, missing him, tasting the ways he touched me over 50 years. \u00a0 I woke on a soft winter morning this week and an improbable spirit companion for Mike came to mind, one of my heroes from Recife Brazil, Dom Helder Camera who died in 1999. \u00a0 Mike reminds me of Dom Helder, especially the way Mike loved to look at realities in the world and to say what he saw. \u00a0Sometimes Mike would call me to talk and, while talking, he would clown around almost like a Heyoka \u00a0but like a Heyoka you could tell that his teasing always came from looking and seeing in the world. \u00a0 That capacity for vision cost Mike, he lived with sorrows about the wounds at work in the world but. to my knowledge, he never gave up on paying attention to the way the world lives its many lives. \u00a0I think Mike never stopped expecting to recognize meaning in what he saw; he was the complete opposite of a tourist. \u00a0Was there sadness in his passion for paying attention? \u00a0I think so. \u00a0Was there joy in the resiliance of Mike\u2019s expectation that paying attention mattered, and was worth the stillness it required? \u00a0 \u00a0Yes.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know if Mike ever met Dom Helder but, if he had, I like to think they would have recognized each other.<\/p>\n
Dom Helder Camera:<\/strong> It is possible to travel alone, but we know the journey is human life<\/p>\n and life needs company. The good traveler cares for weary companions, grieves when we lose heart, Intelligently, gently, above all lovingly, we encourage each other to go on <\/p>\n Today\u2019s post # 2 \u00a0<\/strong>Mary Oliver<\/p>\n “April 18, 2018. \u00a0 Yesterday, a magical time for me and my sibs at Mary\u2019s northern Wisconsin home. \u00a0 The best blizzards in a long time (two of them, separated by c. one hour, both 14\u201d plus with serious winds sculpting them. \u00a0 This morning, back on campus, I looked for a Mary Oliver poem that was new to me and found one about a very late winter storm. \u00a0 It\u2019s exciting to find a new Mary Oliver poem. \u00a0 Yes, definitely good to read it out loud, with pauses.”<\/p>\n my brother Bill\u2019s van parked in my sister Mary\u2019s drive <\/p>\n \u201cStarling in winter\u201d \u00a0\u00a0<\/strong>Copyright \u00a9:\u00a0Mary Oliver<\/p>\n Chunky and noisy, they are acrobats dipping and rising; then closes again; how they do it this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us, I feel my boots to think again of dangerous and noble things. From:\u00a0Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays<\/p>\n New York Times obit. \u00a0<\/span>\u00a0 https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2019\/01\/17\/obituaries\/mary-oliver-dead.html<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Friday, January 18, \u00a02019 \u00a0–\u00a0\u00a0Honoring two strong thinkers as they pass Mary Oliver has anointed the pages of the \u201cWork Day\/Hard Time\u201d list many times since the list began in September 2103. It\u2019s a good bet that her language will … Continue reading
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n
\nCompanion is the one who eats the same bread.<\/p>\n
\ntakes us where she finds us,\u00a0 listens to us.<\/p>\n
\nand recover our joy
\nOn the\u00a0 journey.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nafter an April 18, 2018 blizzard-blessed family gathering
\nMarinette Wisconsin<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/sites.udmercy.edu\/poetry\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/170\/2018\/04\/AnimalVan.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n
\nbut with stars in their black feathers,
\nthey spring from the telephone wire
\nand instantly<\/p>\n
\nin the freezing wind.
\nAnd now, in the theater of air,
\nthey swing over buildings,<\/p>\n
\nthey float like one stippled star
\nthat opens,
\nbecomes for a moment fragmented,<\/p>\n
\nand you watch
\nand you try
\nbut you simply can\u2019t imagine<\/p>\n
\nwith no articulated instruction, no pause,
\nonly the silent confirmation
\nthat they are this notable thing,<\/p>\n
\nover and over again,
\nfull of gorgeous life.<\/p>\n
\neven in the leafless winter,
\neven in the ashy city.
\nI am thinking now
\nof grief, and of getting past it;<\/p>\n
\ntrying to leave the ground,
\nI feel my heart
\npumping hard. I want<\/p>\n
\nI want to be light and frolicsome.
\nI want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
\nas though I had wings.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n