Of boxes, warm days, and trees

[linaewen]

I had a good day yesterday of getting things done. I have to confess I did turn on the computer, once at midday -- to get some things printed from it that I needed for some work -- and then in the evening when my work was done, just to see how everyone was doing.

The task of packing to move is daunting, especially amidst all the other things that one has to do regularly, and the things that crop up suddenly and throw you into a tail spin, and things you have to do that involve going out of town, just when you really want to be home and get organized. We have to be out of town again this weekend, for like the 4th weekend in a row, and while the conference we are attending will be good, it's still time away from home -- both of them! The home we need to pack up into boxes and the home we need to fix up so it will be ready to receive those boxes.

But I'm not complaining -- just being realistic, hee!

So, yesterday was a good day. I got some boxes packed, got some non-email letters written, did some sorting and planning, and had a lovely walk. The weather was fantastic here yesterday, 66 degrees, sunny and breezy. Today is much the same -- rather springlike, in a fall sort of way, if you know what I mean. ;-) Snow tomorrow, maybe, which is okay, too, because after all, November is when you are supposed to have snow.

Speaking of which, that reminds me -- 21 years ago come November 11, we took the bus to the airport to fly to Pakistan, and it was snowing. But not when we got there, lol!

I've been in a tree sort of mood lately, and poems that use tree imagery are appealing to me. That's why I posted this one the other day:

http://lin4gondor.livejournal.com/208172.html

If you didn't see it, go have a read, it's beautiful. And here's another:

YOUNG WILLS WHINE

Young wills whine
like masterless spears.
Fear has hurled them
into space's spheres.
Trembling with battle
and strength in surfeit
they seek targets to strike
they seek powers to worship.

But wills that ripen,
they become trees and strike root,
ready to shield
a land at your foot,
a small stretch of ground,
but necessary, like life,
where something precious grows,
torn by the winds' strife.

If the glade seems narrow
against space without end
and the tree perhaps lifeless
against spears that blind,
then forget not the leaf
with its life-green colour,
and forget not the sap
that seethes through the marrow.

Be not afraid, be still
that harvest night,
when the voices say:
'Your bounds are set.
You too shall be silent
among the watching faithful.
You also shall strike root,
and become tree, and ripen.'

-- by Karin Boye

This poem actually reminds me of the following verse in Psalm 1:3:

He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.

May you all have an "unafraid" sort of day, as you strike root, become tree and ripen.   (((((F/list)))))

Comments

[estellye.livejournal.com]

Oh dear! It seems like poor timing on the conference, but everthing is in the time it is supposed to be. May you be able to disconnect from your home worries enough to gain maximum benefit from the conference and then come back refreshed and ready to dig in.

That poem is wonderful! particularly that last line as you pointed out.

*hugs!*