Monday, December 16, 2013
music of the soul
My dear friend Phyllis's husband died on Friday. They married at 18 and 20 and were together for 71 years. He was a physicist and had Alzheimers. What could be worse? I completed a week-long writing/meditation silent retreat and then stayed with her. On Sunday, a funeral service was held on a muddy, sunny day in Taos in a tiny Jewish cemetery with only six graves, the mountains behind the rabbi were like a stage backdrop. It's been a bad year for husbands. Three of my friends lost theirs, mine had surgery that took months for recovery. My heart is full. My mind is racing. Old, important friends have reappeared in my life. You know who you are and I am completely unbalanced. I've taken to following my almost-86 year old brother's advice regarding Scotch at 4 PM -- and I'm writing like crazy. Getting the book mss. finalized. A lengthy essay and photographs will appear soon in Stitching Resistance (Solis Press, England) and a poem appeared in Adobe Walls. So there's good and bad. Life, I guess.
My dear friend Mag stayed here for a week, then both of us were together at the retreat. The home she used to live in here in Taos was dismantled after many years and she gave me a very special gift. This Limoges tiny porcelain pill box that belonged to her grandmother.
Poetry is the music of the soul.
Dewers dances nimbly across the palate, offering quick pinpricks of light malt sugar, pears, Madagascar vanilla, honey and a whisper of peat smoke.
I like the peat smoke part and am ready to leave for Scotland right now!