From the Quote Box

When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall – Think of it, ALWAYS. — Mahatma Gandhi

I thought of this quote last night, while chasing down the King quote I used yesterday. Turns out there was a flitter of “that is a totally made up quote” going around, apparently springing from, of all things, an article in the online Atlantic Magazine. Really? I expected a little better. Most of the responses to the article were along the lines of “even if it’s fake, the thought and meaning is still valid”. I remembered having used that quote long ago (turns out in Dec. 2001) and I normally do at least look for other attributions for quotes, so off I went looking for it. Of course the internet is FULL of quotes because people like myself use them all the time to start off a post or drive home an idea. But finding something linking it to the actual writer or speaker is harder. But not impossible LOL. Another person and I actually landed on the same good source about the same time, so hopefully that’s enough of that.

I watched a TED talk short piece today which had Phyllis Rodriguez, mother of a sept 11 victim standing alongside Aicha el-Wafi, the mother of Zacarias Moussaoui. This is probably a better representation of what the two of them had to say.

I remember after the Oklahoma bombing wondering if all of us have the capacity to evoke such violence on the world. What brings people to the point where they are compelled to create such chaos and violence towards others in order to make a point? And what is that point, exactly?

My brain is too mushy at the moment with all this to have helpful thoughts. I encourage all of you to do your own thinking.

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A twist to end may day

“I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy.” Unknown possibly Jessica Dovey

“Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King, Jr

Well that announcement last night sure stirred up a lot of memories and feelings.

September 11, 2001
The phone rang. I watched my mother talking and prepared myself to hear that someone had died. Who could have imagined? We didn’t have a TV where we were so we didn’t get the barrage of instant images. All we could do is listen to the phoned reports and wonder.

What stuck me about that day was the change. The sky was crystal blue, the Adirondack water still sparkled with the sun, the mountains still held in the lake on all sides. What had changed was me. I felt that someone had knocked a hole in my body or head. That there was a gap between the me of a few minutes before and the me now. I looked at the others and they seemed to have the same problem putting themselves into this new existence.

I’ve used simple images to portray that turning point where the innocent happiness changed on a moment in time. I’ve left a suggestion that this will continue to evolve. All grief becomes tempered over time but how long before the memory of that moment is softened?

And how long before the memory is softened? Apparently longer than ten years.

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Working on the edge

Big news tonight from the President. Yes good news but color me worried about all the followers and their push for retribution. Time will tell.

I worked awhile on the edges of primordial. Prepared the label to be sewn on both quilts. Turned the next to last corner of sewing down facings – that’s just slow going, but it’s going.

Here’s a peek at the back. Ha! You thought it was black didn’t you.

20110502-000949.jpg

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Late night haiku from last late night

You can blame the bit of sleep deprivation involved with getting up that early, LOL.

Tiara and pearls.
Invitation lost in mail.
Hats extraordinaire.

My eyes are heavy.
Woke early for the wedding.
Royal waves and pearls.

Little crowd of gnomes.
They look very nonchalant.
They’re up to something.

April 30th.
National Poetry Month:
The end is at hand.

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National Poetry Month – Day 30, the end

Well it has been quite the ride, eh? I wasn’t sure how it would go, trying to write something each day. I’ve written poems in various notebooks and journals that I keep for my quilting stuff (please make a note of that, future historians and biographers!) but don’t generally share those with anyone. Having a goal to write each day does make one a little more focused. Strangely like my purposeful entry into the sewing room each day. Have to get in there if I want to get anything done. Even if it’s only a little something, it’s still something. Likewise having a deadline each day to write something made me sit down and do it. Sometimes at lunch, sometimes after dinner, sometimes as the clock was ticking up to midnight.

To my friends and co-workers who riffed haiku with me over the month – that was great fun and I hope we can continue on. Surely there are worse things in life to do than to spin out thoughts 17 syllables at a time and to share them with friends. I think the tweeted haiku count is somewhere around 70 for the month and that doesn’t count stuff posted here and on Facebook.

So I hope you enjoyed the different fare this month and I know that I won’t be so shy about posting poetical things here in the future. Without further ado, a last official poem for:

The End of National Poetry Month, 2011

Thank you, all the poets of April
who swept me up with a promise and a hope.
All hoping for words to fall into place
hoping to gather them up each day.
To set them down each day
on that blank page
on that blank screen.
Magic. Something from nothing.
We left dangling ends for another time.
We put the thoughts out loud.
We pushed our comfort aside
with that promise of the April tide.

Those who stopped to read my words
were puzzled by the verses.
They picked up the haiku and
turned them over like pretty stones.
They twittered words back to me
and made me glad I’d dared to write.
My words set their words free.

Our month of poems is over,
we turn back to our solitary page.
But in the days before
we light our signal flares again
we’ll add the April braveness
to our hoarded words
and sit down
and write.

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