Poetry Overflow

I have taught myself joy, over and over again.

It’s not such a wide gulf to cross, then,

from survival to poetry.

Barbara Kingsolver

ocean-pine-0215Yesterday, as I was searching for a Sunday poem, I came across Barbara Kingsolver’s quotation about the necessity of teaching one’s self joy, a lifetime task as it turns out.

After all, joy, too, rides the wave of impermanence.

I think I knew that or at least had assumed it but assumptions are light weight, if they have any merit at all. Joy is full-bodied, serious in significance, its own gravity.

Is it the secret to survival? Maybe or maybe not. I think it is.

Crossing the gulf to poetry–whatever form that may take–is not a river too wide. Nothing grounds me like a poem. Nothing. It brings me to life right where I am; I survive only to learn all over again.

Sometimes the poetry of Sunday overflows into Monday. It is the teaching of joy.

Aim for Even posts offer equanimity a dose at a time. No day or dose is ever the same, even if the aim is. You may read about the origins of Aim for Even here or on this site’s About page.

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