Dreams and Realities

A small interlude in Provincetown last week gave me both peace and perspective. There were abundant whale sightings and cool breezes. The ocean was gorgeous and wild one day, serene the next. There is something primal about being by the sea. I felt small and my stress was diminished by the great expanse. In daily life, it's easy to be overly focused on minutia---correcting papers, driving in traffic, paying bills. How short a time we have in this beautiful and flawed world. How much conflict is created by misunderstanding. I resolve to do better at detaching from issues over which I have no control. In writing, I strive for emotional truth. In the relationships that carry me, I aspire to honesty and appreciation. My dream is to keep writing and life separate, though life informs writing. Writing is an observation, an interaction with the world that is completely realized on the page. Life is ragged and complicated yet always worth it for the perfect moments--- a surprising synchronicity, loving attention, laughter, shared dreams. This week was the fifth anniversary of my father's death. He loved the ocean, as do I. There's a lot I will never know about his life but I did learn a love of language from him. Tonight when I teach my poetry class, I will think of the poetry read to me-Hardy and T.S. Eliot, Robert Louis Stevenson and Ogden Nash. I will think of the late April morning when we scattered his ashes in the Atlantic Ocean and how memories float like dreams do--in and out of the conscious mind--never disappearing completely from sight.