Earth Day. It's raining. This should be good for the earth, as long as the rain is clean.
Yesterday was Thor's Day in the blog, but the thunder continues. Over at Facebook, a college pal posted a funny video of "Little Thor," alerting me to the movie Thor, opening Friday, May 6. I do hope I remember to do something about that here in the blog, on Thor's Day, May 5.
I have put it on the wildflower calendar on my office door, but there is a chance I won't look at the calendar.
Thor and "Little Thor" both have really big hammers.
As the Writer's Almanac reminded me, today is the birthday of Louise Gluck, one of my favorite poets. (If you don't like her, you can Google, find, and read the sucky commentary at "Louise Gluck Sucks," but I do like her. She's smart and honest and a good poet. She troubles me, but I'm OK with that. The world troubles me, what God is troubles me, so poetry should trouble me, too.)
I love The Wild Iris, which goes inside various wildflowers and states of weather & light and also includes matins and vespers, the morning and evening prayers. There is nothing at all sentimental in all this. There is hard, cold, bold, risky, Thor-like thundery truth-telling:
Poets might be cold. God might not be listening. Deal with it.
The Wild Iris won the Pulitzer Prize. This year's Pulitzers were recently announced.
This morning I woke up from a dream in which I'd asked a hunky man to feel my bicep. I was pretty sure my bicep was impressive. He was not very impressed.
1) I interpreted the dream to mean, perhaps, that I am not as strong as I think I am.
2) Then it occurred to me that it's a dream of perception. He did not perceive me as strong, but maybe I am.
3) But there was the bicep test, and he was an undeniably hunky man.
4) Self-knowledge and how we are perceived in the world are not the same thing.
5) I need to a) build my biceps and b) make sure how I am perceived matches what I know myself to be.
6) If that is even possible.
7) I remember the feel of my own bicep in the dream; there was surely something there!
Painting by Tony Rio, Stop Hand. Permission given.
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