Soul Sunday

Fortune for the Day – To change one’s life: do it flamboyantly. Start immediately. No exceptions.” – William James

Sundays are poetry workshop days here at Adulting Second Half. On Sundays I share a poem and I fully encourage you to share your poetry in the Comments section. It’s fun to play with words!! Please give it a try. I moderate all comments and I would never allow negativity in this sacred space, where we share what is on our hearts and minds – openly, freely, authentically. Here’s my poem for today:

invecchiamento

Sometimes I accept the inevitable,

I let it flow,

I’m at peace with it.

Sometimes the frustration builds,

And I try to dam it all up,

Trying to defy the laws of nature

And gravity.

Sometimes I laugh at my acts of futility.

Sometimes I marvel at them.

Sometimes I play the comparison game.

Who of us is doing it better? And in what way?

And does it matter? And do we really have a say?

Sometimes I stop paying attention to the things which I cannot change.

And I am at peace,

I am at peace with aging.

Aging.

6 thoughts on “Soul Sunday”

  1. Collecting the World
    One Stone at a Time

    That is what I like to call it.

    In Reality it was always
    so much more.

    A hobby for children
    you might think.

    Let me explain as best I can.

    Things come and go
    Stones are much more permanent.

    Although they, too, wear away
    given enough time.

    Our time measured in Decades
    Their’s in Millenniums.

    You can toss one in the rubbish bin
    have it carted away to a landfill
    to be buried
    and a hundred years later, when it is dug up

    or exposed by the elements

    It is still just a Rock.

    Ready to slip into a pocket or
    be lugged home to decorate the flowerbed.

    Ready to be someone else’s memory marker.

    I like that.

    A lot.

    Attached to each one of mine
    The Memories.

    A hand sized white stone
    flattened and worn smooth by the surf is
    A morning walk along the beach
    listening to the gulls and sea-lions calls
    the waves crash
    at Big Sur, California.
    Jacket on, and hands in my pockets,
    still chilly in July.

    A chunk of Rose Granite
    as big as a baby’s head
    blasted from the still emerging face
    of an Indian Warrior Memorial
    in South Dakota
    Where I stood with my sons in the 90 degree heat
    marveling at the sight of something
    I first saw in my Weekly Reader
    when I was still a child
    and it was still just a mountain,
    and an idea.

    A Boulder
    prised from a mountain road-wall
    somewhere in Nevada between the State Line
    and Ely
    Highway 50- America’s Loneliest Road.

    It must weigh 35 pounds.

    Helping my late husband dig it loose
    then watching as he hefted it into the back of our van
    as he jokingly commented

    “After this trip, we will need new shocks, you know.”

    17 States that Summer
    and oh-so-many stones.

    Collecting The World
    is not limited to rocks.

    There are also fossils and shells.

    And even a bit of a Meteorite and a tiny black diamond-
    purchased, of course…like
    my chunk of The Berlin Wall
    Seafoam green graffiti and all
    bought soon after it fell.

    “Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall.”

    A bit of Space.

    Of Stardust.

    A Chunk of History.

    I’m still waiting for a piece of The Great Wall of China.
    Watching eBay every week.

    A Spiral of a Whelk Shell
    from a beach in Bradenton, Florida
    that still tastes of salt…even after all these years.

    While our three boys
    played like seals in the wave-wash
    we sat nearby on beach-towels
    spread in the soft sand
    playing guitar, singing and serenading the seagulls
    having both just discovered

    Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise

    “Once Upon a Time”

    The birds appreciative critics
    as long as the crackers and chips held out.

    A Corner of a Red Street Brick
    dug by my youngest son who noticed it was broken
    and presented to me like Pure Gold
    during a solo trip by both of us
    to Savannah, Georgia.

    Laughing like fools

    when a local tried to give us directions to Forsythia Park
    but when she opened her mouth
    the voice was the Voodoo Witch
    from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

    “And don’cha DARE look back!”

    Indeed.

    I could tell you about
    the Bedstone
    from Cumberland Falls, Kentucky
    remembering a time in 1965
    when I sat on one of the flat river rocks
    like a young otter sunning myself
    with my Grandpa
    The cold river water rushing over
    both of our bare legs
    and later bringing my own children back to the same spot.
    Bringing home the smooth clay-turned-to-rock stone.

    Or what a Moon-bow looks like
    through the mist of The Falls.

    Some are picked up
    and brought
    by friends or family.

    A chunk pried from
    (I could not make this up)
    a Mayan Ruin in Belize
    by a friend on holiday there.

    Asking her
    “Isn’t that illegal as hell?”
    and her reply

    “Not if they don’t CATCH you.”

    A smooth zebra-striped black and white
    rock from Tuscany
    by another.

    Several wave-ground stones
    from a beach in Crete.

    A bigger than my hand
    wave-washed stone
    from Aberdeen, Scotland.

    A huge river rock
    fished out by my Grand Daughter
    and brought to me on Mother’s Day one year

    “I have a surprise for you, Grandma Rose”

    So no…

    It isn’t just collecting rocks.

    It is a collection of My Life.

    1. Oh wow, Carla. I am so incredibly moved . . . and jealous. I wish I had started a rock collection long ago. You are so right about their last lasting-ness. Thank you for sharing this wonder of a poem.

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